Free Football Crazy by Terry Ravenscroft, Ravenscroft

suffering but only a split second in arriving. “I know what a number two is, Donnelly,” he snapped.
    “ Well it's imperative I have one, Mr Price,” Donny reiterated. “And early doors. Very much so.”
    “ There'll be no number two if I've owt to do with it,” said Price. “And if tha aren't up to t' job on thee own I'll get somebody as is.”
    “ But....”
    Price cut off any further protest. “And listen up, t' pair of you. It cost me one million pounds to buy t' Town. And that's a lot of meat pies. One and half million to be exact. And that's only t' beginning of what I intend spending; there's t' ground to be brought up to scratch and t' playing strength to be improved. I don't expect to see change out of fifteen million pounds this season alone. And that's a lot of meat pies. Twenty two and half million to be exact. Now I....”
    Donny held up a hand. “If I can just butt in for a moment, Mr Price. Concerning our current playing strength. Our immediate need is obviously more punch up front, more strike power if you like; and I know where I can get just the player we need if I act quickly. And he won't cost all that much.”
    “ And how much might that be?”
    “ I think I could get him for about four hundred thousand meat pies.”
    Price fixed Donny with a beady eye. “Are thee making fun of me, Donnelly?”
    Donny was aghast. It was the very last thing he wanted to do. How could Price possibly think he'd been making fun of him? All he'd been doing was speaking in the language of the person he was talking to, like it had advised in the book ‘The Psychology of Football’ with a foreword by Ron Atkinson. He now wished he'd stuck to his own language, very much so, but it was too late. “Making fun of you Mr Price?” he said. “Oh no, Mr Price.”
    “ Only some folk do,” said Price. “Once.” He noticed Donny's bowler hat. “What has tha got that bowler hat under thee arm for?”
    “ This, Mr Price?” Donny took the bowler from the crook of his arm. “Well I wear one of course, Mr Price.”
    “ Put it on then,” said Price.
    Donny suddenly felt a great need to be somewhere else. “What?”
    “ Put it on.” This time there was more authority in Price's voice.
    “ Well I always take it off when I'm indoors, Mr Price,” Donny hedged. “It’s good manners.”
    Price leaned over and stuck his face about an inch away from Donny's and bellowed, “Put it on!”
    There was nothing else for it. Donny put the bowler hat on. He had removed the newspaper padding as he had assumed he wouldn’t be wearing it and the hat fell down over his eyes.
    Price had no doubts now. “Tha are making fun of me, aren't tha Donnelly!”
    The feeling Donny had of wanting to be somewhere else, a nice comfortable snake pit perhaps, grew even stronger. His voice became hoarse. “No, Mr Price,” he managed to croak.
    Price stepped forward, took the hat off Donny's head and looked at it more closely.
    “ Where did tha buy this hat, Donnelly?”
    “ Buy it, Mr Price?” Donny's mind raced. “Er....Next.”
    “ That's funny,” said Price. “Because it's one of mine. One of my old ones as I threw out. And things as I throw out my wife gives to t' charity shop.”
    “ Next….door to Woolworths, Mr Price....Age Concern,” gabbled Donny, thinking on his feet. “I couldn't think of the name, Mr Price. Now I can. It was Age Concern.”
    Price looked at him imperiously. The feeling Donny had of wanting to be somewhere else grew ever stronger. Maybe some nice quicksand whilst giving Dawn French a piggy back.
    “ Tha'rt a lying sod, Donnelly.” Price said. “But I give everybody one chance. Tha has just had thine.”
    The valve on Donny's bootlicking tank opened again and more obsequiousness oozed out. “Thank you Mr Price. Obviously.”
    “ Now let's get back to business. Regarding t' new player as tha wants, we'll be buying nobody until we've got best out of t' players as we already have. And we can do that by