- Feb 1, 2005
Today we go back to 2014........
Right, here it is, apologies if it drifts here and there, I bashed it up as it came to me so it might not actually be much. Ready? Go!
The veins in his neck were twitching as they kept time with the steady thump of heavy metal music coming from the speakers on the other side of the pool. It was so hot that the anti-glare cream he used on his head was melting. He stretched his arms out behind him and yawned, before hitching the reclining sunbed up a couple of notches. As he sat there, scratching his balls and idly picking his nose, he was deep in thought about the coming season. Had he done the right things? Made the right moves? He removed his finger from his nose and examined what he had excavated before idly flicking it away, where it flew across two sunbeds and landed on Donna Cullens bum.
An article in the Metro had irritated him. (See the front page) He reckoned he knew who was behind it and as usual it was "those ****s on Spurscommunity" that were in the frame. Especially Mullers and A&C who were pretty much always at the front of the queue when it came to sticking the boot in. God he hated them two. He had to make an example. He'd decided that almost immediately, but the problem was who? How? He shifted and grimaced with discomfort as he eased himself slightly off the sunbed, wriggling his bum left and right a bit, adjusted his official Tottenham Hotspur buttplug (on sale in the Spurs Store £49.99 or executive edition with 24 carat golden cockeral £399) and slowly eased himself down again. as he did so, his eyes rolled upwards in pleasure. What to do……what to do……..He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The minute he dozed off every single one of his employees jumped into the pool and with a precision that would have done the synchronised swimming world champions credit, they all aimed wanker signs at him as they swayed from left to right, before all diving heads down, legs above the water to spell the words "Dwarf ****" with their legs. They surfaced, gave eachother high fives and went back to what they were doing.
Meanwhile Daniel Levy fell deeper and deeper into his sleep and began to dream. In his dream he was no longer seen as a dwarf even by other dwarves, he was 6ft tall. And well hung. And boy did it feel good. One minute he was dressed as John Wayne in US Cavalry uniform and was saving the poor settlers by backscuttling their wives as the men fought off the 'pesky injuns', the next he was dressed like one of Dexy's Midnight Runners and fingering the protesters at Greenham Common.
As his dream ran through the whole gamut of perversions his mind kept saying to him, Mullers or A&C, Mullers or A&C…….It was no good. He had to stop his dream, just as he was about to penetrate Florence Nightingale as she bent over to tend the wounded as well. Fucking irritating. Back in a mo, Flo……..I have to concentrate my dream elsewhere for a while. Now he was dressed as Little Bo Peep and that irritated him, what sort of a fucking dream IS this? Little Bo fucking Peep, he thought to himself. (Yeah Danny boy, i'm writing this yoke so shut the fuck up) So, he's dressed as LBP (Acronyms, the bane of SC life) and toting this great big automatic shotgun. That's more like it he thought.
Suddenly, A&C appeared out of nowhere, right there in front of him. Get in there! He thought to himself, this dreaming lark is soooooo easy! A&C pointed at him and laughed. "Little Bo Peep?……what? the BSoDL your sheep?" and suddenly he was gone, vanished into thin air. Levy was angry now. He marched around Spurscommunity for a while, looking in every thread possible until he finally found Mullers, playing devils advocate in a thread about sexuality in Llamas. He smiled as he pointed the shotgun at Mullers, but suddenly, he too vanished. Some music started playing and he turned to see Mullers and A&C dressed like the Blues Brothers……..They pointed at him and broke into song……
Hey folks here's the story 'bout Levy the Moocher
He was a lowdown hoochie coocher
This was the roughest toughest tail
But when Levy signed a player he was bound to fail
He messed around with a bloke named Harry
He got him fourth, happy as larry
Levy sacked him, threw him out of the ground
And started playing manager merry-go-round
Suddenly Levy started screaming. Shut up! Shut up you ****s! this is my dream, MINE! Fuckoff out of it with your songs and vanishing acts, it's my dream! Why can't I kill you, why can't I shut you up?
We smiled. Sorry Danny boy, not even in your wildest dreams, now wake up, wake up Danny, wake uppppppppp
Wake up. Wake up Mr Levy there's a call for you. "There's no place like home, there's no place like home" Levy mumbled to himself as he woke, before realising he'd been asleep. He sat bolt upright, looking wildly left and right. He took the phone. He listened intently. How? he asked. He laughed and ended the call. Good news sir? Said his head flunkey, who was dressed as Cruella de Vil. Yes indeedy, laughed Levy. It seems by appointing Pochettino the ranks of the BSoDL have swollen again and I am once more untouchable in the eyes of the masses. Looks like I won't have to bother about them ****s on Spurscommunity after all. "And the article in the Metro your loftiness?" Meh, couldn't give a fuck, the BSoDL are strong once more!
Out of nowhere, a womans voice called out "Oi! whats this fucking bogey doing on my arse?"
Levy smiled and leaned back into his sunbed. I wonder what it would be like to have a bionic cock? He held onto the thought as he drifted off, to sleep the sleep of the contented.
Things were going his way again.