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Nigel Clough's New Year's Resolutions


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Young Clough and the Derby fans had suffered the tortures of 'slow burn' for three years: at last they got so voracious and wild that one boy, big Metgod - who hadn't been used to this sort of thing as he'd played for Real Madrid (and never tired of telling everyone) hinted darkly to his companions, that unless he had another striker, he was afraid he might stick someone up the bum and play a weakly youth of tender age up front. He had a wild, hungry eye; and they implicitly believed him.

A council was held; lots were cast as to who should walk up to the master and ask for more players; and it fell to young Clough.

The evening arrived; they took their places. Master Tom, in his club blazer stationed himself at the head of the table; his pauper assistants ranged themselves around him; club gruel was served out as was the custom; and a long grace was said over the short Commons (?). The gruel disappeared; the staff whispered to each other, and winked at young Clough; while his neighbours nudged him. Young as he was, he was desperate for a striker, and reckless with misery he rose from the table and advancing to the master, he said:

'Please, sir, I want some more players.'

The master was a fat, healthy American; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupefied astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds. The assistants were paralysed with wonder; the coaching staff with fear.

'What!' said the master at length, in a faint voice.

'Please, sir,' replied young Clough, 'I want some more players'

The master aimed a blow at Cloughie’s head; pinioned him in his arm; and shrieked aloud.

The board were sitting in the next room in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumhole rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said,

'Mr. Appleby sir, I beg your pardon, sir! Young Clough has asked for more players!'

There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance.

'For MORE players!' said Appleby. 'Compose yourself, Bumhole, and answer me distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for more players, after he had had the number of emergency loans allotted by the club secretary?'

'He did, sir,' replied Bumhole.

'Really....that boy will be strung up by the balls,' said a man in a cowboy hat.

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Sort of petered out a bit I thought. He set the scene nicely but left me slightly unsatisfied. You know, not quite sure of what happened next.

Is there a part 2?

Well it’s a very long story.....

Basically a great uproar ensues. I seem to think that the board of well-fed American gentlemen who administer the club offer a reward to anyone wishing to take young Clough away.

Because of the young man's sorrowful countenance and disgruntled demeanor, he later gains employment as a specialist moaner at fourth officials.

But where that leaves us with our kick boxing goal keeper, and sleep walking central defender I'm not sure.

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