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Bosh Times - And then the world, part two
Bosh Times - And then the world, part two
Tuesday, 22nd Jan 2008 10:09

During the break in my meeting with fabulous and Ernie I was taken on a brief tour along the corridors of power by defender and utility sandwich buyer Zeb Rainman.

 This was an area I had never been to before and the long illuminated hallway seemed to stretch on into infinity (and beyond)!

“Am I allowed to open any of these doors?” I asked Zeb.
“Yes of course,” he replied as I reached out to open the first door. As I drew the heavy iron door back it revealed a brightly lit stark room with nothing in it but a chair in the middle with our very own GiGi the horse worrier sitting crossed legged, reading a copy of a national Italian daily newspaper.

GiGi briefly looked up to acknowledge me. “Sandwich GiGi?” Zeb asked. GiGi gave him a thumbs up and went back to reading his paper. It was a strange spectacle but I thought better of asking why he was sitting in what looked like an isolation cell. Closing the door carefully Zeb and I moved on.

“Tuna salad sandwich,” Zeb informed me, glancing back at the door we had just shut. Moving forward Zeb opened the next door. Again inside there was a plain bright white room with a chair in the middle of it. Sat on this chair, listening to tunes on an iPod was none other than Gianluca Vialli.

“Sandwich Mr.Vialli?” Asked Zeb. Again Gianluca merely gave a thumbs up as he swayed back and forth listening to his tunes. Swiftly Zeb closed the door and we moved on again.

“Plain cheese sandwich on white bread,” Zeb smiled. “I don’t need to write it down, it’s all up in my noodle up here.”

This slightly surreal tour continued and after another few paces I opened a third door. Inside it was the same story but to my complete astonishment sitting on the chair in the middle of the room, reading a paper was GiGi again. I have to admit I was lost for words but Zeb quickly broke the silence by asking him if he wanted a sandwich. GiGi gave the thumbs up, yet again and we moved on. I turned briefly to look back up the corridor at the first door we had opened.

“Zeb,” I asked. “How was it possible that we opened a door back there and GiGi was in it and then again just now in this room?” Zeb smiled and nodded. “They keep more than one GiGi here,” he informed me. “Most wealthy people like to keep more than one of the same thing around in case one breaks down. It’s like those mega rich people you hear about who have ten identical suits in the wardrobe.”

“… Right, so how many GiGis do we actually have?” “Well, ten of course,” Zeb replied nonchalantly. “Only one has the tuna sandwich, all the others all have cheese.”

Opening a forth door we encountered yet another GiGi and behind the fifth, just for a change was Gianfranco Zola, behind the sixth, another GiGi and behind the seventh a second Vialli. Doors eight to eleven were all GiGis before door twelve surprisingly revealed Roberto Baggio and Toto Schillaci playing on an Xbox.

“So that’s twelve cheese and one tuna salad sandwich,” Zeb informed me.

Still unnerved by the tour I thought I better challenge the Rangers catering defender. “You say cheese sandwich, but how do I know you aren’t just making this up? What kind of cheese do all these GiGis like?”

In a voice not unlike a Star Wars Sith Lord, Zeb then revealed the power of cheese.

“Many GiGi’s will prefer a select premium processed cheese, two are more akin to hard cheeses and I mean hard. We’re talking aged Stilton. Others will go more for the softer varieties like a creamy Brie with some ground black pepper. Every so often I get a Babybell and even a Craft Dairy Lea slice. That has to be punished. This club takes its cheese seriously now.”
“Sounds like we are obsessed with cheese?” I suggested.
“Cheese is like pornography,” Zeb told me.
“….. Right,” I answered faintly. “Why?”
“Cheese is like sex. You have hard cheese, you have soft cheese and cheeses that are somewhere in the middle. It can be a bit runny, it can be a bit smelly, it can keep you awake all night but more often than not it’s full of interesting holes.”
I thought for a few seconds about what Zeb had just told me. “…… Do we have a club nurse in place here?”
“Obviously,” Zeb answered. “She always has Halloumi and Emmenthal with organic mayonnaise with rocket salad on poppy seeded rye... Dirty cow!”

I found myself running back frantically to the boardroom to continue my conversation with Ernie and Fab. It was a relief to be back in a place of partial sanity again. Fab and Ernie were now back in the room. Fabulous finished his phone call to a colleague informing him to slash the price of the blazers in his new London clothes boutique to just under half a billion quid each. Ernie just looked completely and utterly startled and aghast. It was a confusing sight and I chose to consult with Fab about it when he finished his call.

“Is Ernie alright?” I asked.
“Yes,” Fab reassured me. “He has his botox injections around this time.”
“Oh I see,” I said with relief. “I thought he’d just discovered that although we have signed twenty five new players that he’d just realized that Stepvan Mork’s contract says he has to be in the starting eleven every game until 2011.”

Fab laughed. “No, if that was the case he’d look a lot more mortified than that.” Fab continued laughing but I did notice him slink away and flip up his phone again quietly. “Hi, it’s Fab here. Can you just check Stepvan Mork’s contract please?”

As we settled back one of the sexy Crazy Horse Girls tapped me on the shoulder, bearing little more than a silver tray.
“Cheese sandwich?” She asked.
“You’re very kind,” I smiled. “But no thank you. I have a girlfriend.”
“They’re smoked Gruyère in soft baps,” the sexy girl tried to tempt me.
I shook my head and eventually gave in and reached out to the tray.

“Lord forgive me. Okay, but not a word to my girlfriend. She doesn’t need to know about this and don’t think about asking me for my number, or sending me coupons for money off cottage cheese, much as I respect you. My girlfriend just wouldn’t understand.”

Fab sat across the room from me, two Crazy Horse girls perched on each knee, feeding his cheese rolls. He winked over to me as he devoured them greedily. “It’s great to be the Fab!” He announced.

After reading about the club’s ambitions I thought this would be a good time to get the facts right from the horse’s head so to speak.

“I've been reading articles on the internet about us getting into the Champions League within four years. Is this true and is it realistic?”

Ernie pipped up with an answer to this. “Most certainly we would look to be in the Premiership within two years and then challenging the likes of AC Milan and others within four.”
I looked over to Fab. “Is that Ernie talking or are you throwing your voice?”
“No,” Fab replied. “He really is talking. It’s just the botox that’s making him look like a ventriloquists dummy.”
“Oh, okay,” I acknowledged turning back to Ernie. “In light of us signing so many players do you think we will see any other arrivals before the end of the transfer window?”
“Well,” Ernie explained, “we have found a loophole in the law and it says that the whole of January is the transfer window. So Fab, Lax and myself went out to Kallkwik yesterday and had our calendars and diaries altered so that January lasts 365 days a year. We ran it by the Football League and they wanted to fine us and dock us points. It dates back to the China incident I think. They said China wouldn’t tolerate the change… So we bought China… And the Football League... And Kallkwik.”

Bosh Times – Part 3 follows soon.

Photo: Action Images



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