Lambert rocked on his haunches

Weighing it up. Considering the angles. With perfect balance, he reached into his shopping trolley, plucked out another can, cracked it open and downed it in 18 quality chugs. He tossed the can over his shoulder and considered treating himself to a belch.

"Paul Lambert", the journalist repeated wearily, "would it be fair to say that the uncertainty last week was all part of a strategy to bring the club to the negotiating table with regards a new contract?"

Paul felt the first sharp rumblings of cramp in his calf, and sprang to his feet from his low position. He began stamping his bare feet with gusto, his dungarees billowing with the motions.

"No, no, maybe uh... Look, right, the club is the biggest thing, right, apart from the fans, and the stadium, well actually if you consider it in hectares the training ground is the biggest part of this football club, and it's great, really really great, I just felt that the board will make their decisions and I'll live with that ok, no problem, and their decision was to say 'keep on trucking Paul, you go and truck us right on up tae the top, or thereabouts. Or midtable. Mid table in this league, when you think where this club was when I came in...Listen, the ambition of the board is up to the board, I know what I want to do, even more so now I've got money in the bank! 5 year deal eh, that's not to be sniffed at. I'm on the name brand cans now pal, none of this supermarket own-brand s**te."

With the cramp averted, Paul sank back to his haunches and began a Cossack style jig.

"Can ye dae this pal? Can ye dae it?"

The journalist shut his notebook and sighed as Lambert fired out a robust belch with each kick. Five more years of this.

Posted By: MIKEWALKER, Jan 5, 20:42:39