Teeny
Inactive User
- Joined
- May 12, 2005
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It's a bit old, but still good.
Alex Ferguson calls David Beckham into his office.
'David,' he says, 'I'm worried about your performance the last few games. You've been hopeless, completely off form.'
‘Sorry, boss', says David. 'I've not been myself lately. I've got a few problems at home.'
‘Oh dear,' says Ferguson, pretending to care. 'What's up? Victoria and Brooklyn okay?'
Oh they're fine', says David. ‘It's just that something's really bugging me and I'm losing sleep and everything.
I can't concentrate on my football and it's really messing me up.'
Whatever's the matter, David?' says Fergie.
'Well, boss', says David, 'it's pretty serious. 'You see I'm really stuck on this jigsaw and...'
'A jigsaw?!!!' shouts Alex. 'You're f**king up every time you play because of a bloody jigsaw?!!!'
Yeah, boss, but you don't understand, it's really doing my head in!' says David in that horrible whining voice.
'It's really hard and it's this picture of a tiger and it looks really good on the box and I'm sure I've got all the bits and everything, but I just can't get it right and it's doing my head in and I even had my hair cut to try and cool my brain down and...'
'David, David, David,' says Ferguson. 'You've got to get a grip.’
It's affecting our games and nothing is as important as Manchester United success, other than Roy Keane's wages, obviously.'
'Yeah, boss,' says David, 'but it's this picture of a tiger and it looks really good on the box and I really want to finish it but it's really hard and it's doing my head in and it's this picture and it's a tiger and it's hard...and I can't make the bits fit and, err, it's really hard, err, boss and, err, it's a tiger, err,... on the box...err… boss.'
Ferguson waits until even Beckham realizes he's repeating himself and has got nothing else to say which took a bit longer than usual.
'David,' he says, with that conceited, irritating, smug smile he uses for self-congratulatory post-match interviews. 'Bring the tiger jigsaw in and let's have a look at it. For Christ's sake, we've got to get you back to playing football.'
'Oh thanks, boss,' says David, 'that'd be really helpful 'cos it's really hard and it's a picture of a tiger and it's doing my head in, that tiger is.'
So David brings the jigsaw into Ferguson's office.
'Here it is boss.' he says, showing Ferguson the picture on the box.
'Look boss, it's this tiger right and it's a really good picture and...
'Will you just shut the f**k up, and empty the pieces over my desk', says Ferguson.
Beckham then empties all the pieces from the box all over Ferguson's desk.
Ferguson looks at what's on his desk and the faint dusty cloud now hanging over it.
He looks up at David Beckham. 'David', he says,
'Put the f**king Frosties back in the box.'
Alex Ferguson calls David Beckham into his office.
'David,' he says, 'I'm worried about your performance the last few games. You've been hopeless, completely off form.'
‘Sorry, boss', says David. 'I've not been myself lately. I've got a few problems at home.'
‘Oh dear,' says Ferguson, pretending to care. 'What's up? Victoria and Brooklyn okay?'
Oh they're fine', says David. ‘It's just that something's really bugging me and I'm losing sleep and everything.
I can't concentrate on my football and it's really messing me up.'
Whatever's the matter, David?' says Fergie.
'Well, boss', says David, 'it's pretty serious. 'You see I'm really stuck on this jigsaw and...'
'A jigsaw?!!!' shouts Alex. 'You're f**king up every time you play because of a bloody jigsaw?!!!'
Yeah, boss, but you don't understand, it's really doing my head in!' says David in that horrible whining voice.
'It's really hard and it's this picture of a tiger and it looks really good on the box and I'm sure I've got all the bits and everything, but I just can't get it right and it's doing my head in and I even had my hair cut to try and cool my brain down and...'
'David, David, David,' says Ferguson. 'You've got to get a grip.’
It's affecting our games and nothing is as important as Manchester United success, other than Roy Keane's wages, obviously.'
'Yeah, boss,' says David, 'but it's this picture of a tiger and it looks really good on the box and I really want to finish it but it's really hard and it's doing my head in and it's this picture and it's a tiger and it's hard...and I can't make the bits fit and, err, it's really hard, err, boss and, err, it's a tiger, err,... on the box...err… boss.'
Ferguson waits until even Beckham realizes he's repeating himself and has got nothing else to say which took a bit longer than usual.
'David,' he says, with that conceited, irritating, smug smile he uses for self-congratulatory post-match interviews. 'Bring the tiger jigsaw in and let's have a look at it. For Christ's sake, we've got to get you back to playing football.'
'Oh thanks, boss,' says David, 'that'd be really helpful 'cos it's really hard and it's a picture of a tiger and it's doing my head in, that tiger is.'
So David brings the jigsaw into Ferguson's office.
'Here it is boss.' he says, showing Ferguson the picture on the box.
'Look boss, it's this tiger right and it's a really good picture and...
'Will you just shut the f**k up, and empty the pieces over my desk', says Ferguson.
Beckham then empties all the pieces from the box all over Ferguson's desk.
Ferguson looks at what's on his desk and the faint dusty cloud now hanging over it.
He looks up at David Beckham. 'David', he says,
'Put the f**king Frosties back in the box.'
