MB's gone missing; last seen late on Thursday night just down the road from the Midtjylland Stadium, dancing bare-chested on the snow covered frozen surface of the Fulsang Sø,
Rasmus, essentially a teetotal cyborg, had been down to the dressing room to congratulate the lads, and had then popped by Van Gaal's hotel for a sportsmanlike tomato juice with the weirdly tonsured Dutchman. With RA and LVG in the same room, it was like a drug crazed hairdresser's nightmare.
This nightcap had been followed by a little light reading of software manuals and then lights out at 23.00. Next morning he was awoken early by an anxious call from Deano notifying him of the missing Moneyball Moneybags.
Deano panics. "Without Matthew, who gets the beers in after the match?"
RA's reply sounds callous, but is horribly to the point; "More importantly Smith, who signs the cheques for all new loan players we need? We can't go through to May with the current bunch of cockwombles turning out every week." (His command of English is admirable.).
Quite frankly, since the Derby game RA is starting to wish that Deano would disappear.
Back in Denmark, it's like something out of a Saturday night "Nordic Noir" on BBC4. Inscrutable, but hot, blonde lady police detectives drive all over in perfectly preserved 70s sportscars. Vulnerable, but hot, blonde lady police detectives in fur trimmed parkas struggle through the arctic darkness in knee high snow. Troubled, but hot, blond lady police detectives in dodgy sweaters shine torches into damp disused factories. But nowhere is there a trace of the main man...
...Round the back of the Trafford Halford's, just a stone's throw from the hilariously named "Theatre of Dreams", muffled cries come from the boot of an anonymous, beaten up Cavalier. Bound and gagged, MB struggles unsuccessfully to free himself from the gaffer tape...
...Monday morning and Rasmus wakes early from a fitful sleep, on his way to the kahzi, he spots an envelope on the frog themed, "welcome to our pad" doormat. Within it a note crudely scrawled, warning of fatal consequences if FC Midtjylland do not throw the return leg against United...
...Back in Denmark the search widens. Without any of the usual ludicrously co-incidental events or plot flaws so helpful in fictional crime drama, the grim, but hot, blond lady police detectives are at a loss...
...Midday Tuesday in Trafford, Wayne Rooney pops into Halfords for some retreads for the Ford Ka he still favours above the Bentley. While two spotty youths get to work he wanders round the back for a piss. As his fetid urine beats against an old Duckham's 20/50 drum he hears the now feeble grunts from within the Cavalier...
(to be continued, err, probably not)
Anyway that's enough excitement, back to the tedium of this next match match.
Two bunches of deadbeats equally as bad as each other slog it out on a wet night. We scrape a win due to an own goal by them and everyone cheers up a bit.
Us 1 - them 0
Hot, blond lady police detectives 10/10