Sir Alex Ferguson flies to Baghdad to watch a young Iraqi play football, and is suitably impressed and arranges him to come over to Manchester. Two weeks later Manchester United are 4-0 down to West Brom (well, we can dream!) with only 20 minutes left. Ferguson gives the young Iraqi striker the nod, and on he goes. The lad is a sensation! He scores 5 goals in 15 minutes and wins the game for United. The fans are delighted, the players and coaches are delighted and the media love the new star. When the Iraqi comes off the pitch, he phones his mum to tell her about his first day in English football. 'Hello mum, guess what?' he says, 'I played for 20 minutes today, we were 4-0 down but I scored 5 and we won. Everybody loves me, the fans, the media, they all love me.' 'Wonderful,' says his mum, 'Let me tell you about my day. Your father got shot in the street and robbed, your sister and I were ambushed and beaten up and your brother has joined a gang of looters, and all this time, you were having a great time.' The young lad is, understandably, very upset. 'What can I say mum, but I'm so sorry.' 'Sorry? SORRY?!!!' says his mum, "It's your bloody fault we moved to Manchester in the first place!"
Remember I was asking (asking? Pleading, more like!) for an M400 Mellotron? Well.....
