From last Friday's Fiver
BOING! ROY BOUNCES BACK
Highly respected middle-management type Nice Roy Hodgson had enjoyed a glittering 35-year career, having won the 1978 Shippams Paste Shield with Halmstad, got to the final of the 1982 John West Tuna Chunks In Brine Fotbollkupp at Viking, and impressed many English journalists while at Internazionale by ordering a pizza in a restaurant using only Italian. And last summer, these spectacular achievements finally earned him what he both deserved and coveted most: a big job in England. "Gertcha," he laughed as he settled into the manager's chair at Anfield, "a plush office of my own at last! I've got my name on the door, a big comfy chair, and a massive desk and pens and pencils and a flip chart on which to write facile nonsense and other assorted items of stationery and everything. I've made it now, and no mistake."
But it wasn't long before the dream turned sour, and Nice Roy had accidentally punched several holes in his tie, stapled a blotting pad to his earlobe, and rubbed his face so hard a spark flew off, setting fire to the flip chart and the trousers he was wearing. "Gawf!" he cried, as he ran round his office in demented circles while Liverpool plunged towards the relegation places, almost as though he'd been winging it for years and, having been found out, had absolutely no effing idea what to do next, "this is all the fault of Rafael Benítez, Gerard Houllier, Phil Taylor, Don Welsh, Joe Cole, and especially those pesky kids who I picked to play against Northampton, the ungrateful little scrotes!"
Sadly, Nice Roy's bosses at Liverpool didn't listen to this reasoned argument, and after taking the opportunity afforded by the flaming emergency to beat Nice Roy about the legs with heavy sticks for several minutes, marched the highly respected middle manager off the premises and sent him skittering down Walton Breck Road on the charred seat of his pants, issuing beneficial advice regarding opportunities to come back while they did so.
But you can't keep a good chancer down, and today Nice Roy took over at West Bromwich Albion, where he will replace former boss Roberto Di Matteo's attractive but ineffectual passing game with a more pragmatic but ineffectual hoofing style. Nice Roy has committed himself wholly to the West Brom cause by signing a massive one-and-a-half year contract, and will take over from caretaker boss Michael Appleton after tomorrow's relegation six-pointer against West Ham, therefore absolving himself of any blame should that go nipples up.
He will then, if his behaviour in the north-west is any guide, spend the next couple of months desperately trying to gain the approval of Mick McCarthy at the expense of his own players and the fans of the club who pay his wages.
All eyes will then be on the visit of Liverpool to the Hawthorns in early April, when the highly respected middle manager will take credit for any points the Baggies earn, or plaudits for his part in building The New Liverpool should the visitors trolley West Brom 5-0 as they usually do.
Highly respected middle-management type Nice Roy Hodgson had enjoyed a glittering 35-year career, having won the 1978 Shippams Paste Shield with Halmstad, got to the final of the 1982 John West Tuna Chunks In Brine Fotbollkupp at Viking, and impressed many English journalists while at Internazionale by ordering a pizza in a restaurant using only Italian. And last summer, these spectacular achievements finally earned him what he both deserved and coveted most: a big job in England. "Gertcha," he laughed as he settled into the manager's chair at Anfield, "a plush office of my own at last! I've got my name on the door, a big comfy chair, and a massive desk and pens and pencils and a flip chart on which to write facile nonsense and other assorted items of stationery and everything. I've made it now, and no mistake."
But it wasn't long before the dream turned sour, and Nice Roy had accidentally punched several holes in his tie, stapled a blotting pad to his earlobe, and rubbed his face so hard a spark flew off, setting fire to the flip chart and the trousers he was wearing. "Gawf!" he cried, as he ran round his office in demented circles while Liverpool plunged towards the relegation places, almost as though he'd been winging it for years and, having been found out, had absolutely no effing idea what to do next, "this is all the fault of Rafael Benítez, Gerard Houllier, Phil Taylor, Don Welsh, Joe Cole, and especially those pesky kids who I picked to play against Northampton, the ungrateful little scrotes!"
Sadly, Nice Roy's bosses at Liverpool didn't listen to this reasoned argument, and after taking the opportunity afforded by the flaming emergency to beat Nice Roy about the legs with heavy sticks for several minutes, marched the highly respected middle manager off the premises and sent him skittering down Walton Breck Road on the charred seat of his pants, issuing beneficial advice regarding opportunities to come back while they did so.
But you can't keep a good chancer down, and today Nice Roy took over at West Bromwich Albion, where he will replace former boss Roberto Di Matteo's attractive but ineffectual passing game with a more pragmatic but ineffectual hoofing style. Nice Roy has committed himself wholly to the West Brom cause by signing a massive one-and-a-half year contract, and will take over from caretaker boss Michael Appleton after tomorrow's relegation six-pointer against West Ham, therefore absolving himself of any blame should that go nipples up.
He will then, if his behaviour in the north-west is any guide, spend the next couple of months desperately trying to gain the approval of Mick McCarthy at the expense of his own players and the fans of the club who pay his wages.
All eyes will then be on the visit of Liverpool to the Hawthorns in early April, when the highly respected middle manager will take credit for any points the Baggies earn, or plaudits for his part in building The New Liverpool should the visitors trolley West Brom 5-0 as they usually do.
He knows how to whip up fan support does Roy. 
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