Attack of the clone

10 Apr

Written By Spooky

The Stupendous Adventures of Gareth Frank Bale. Brand new and box fresh.

Tottenham Hotspur, N17. The chairman's office. Some time ago.

Levy: Gareth, Gareth...come in, come in.

Bale: Hi Daniel. You wanted to see me?

Levy: Yes, yes. Sit down.

Bale: Thanks.

Levy: You don't mind if I walk and talk do you?

Bale: No, sir.

Levy: You stay seated.

Bale: What did you need me for? Do I need to call my agent?

Levy: No, no. I wanted to ask you...Are you happy at Spurs?

Bale: Yes. Very much. Could do with another new contract though (laughs jokingly)

Levy: <stops dead and turns to face Bale with stone cold eyes> What did you just say?

Bale: <red faced> I...er...I...er...

Levy: <starts laughing> Banter! I'm just bantering Gareth. Relax, I'll pour you a drink.

Bale: <nervous> Okay.

Levy: I need something from you Gareth. Something that is vital to the progression of this football club and its future.

Bale: Okay...

Levy: Hold that thought. Come in!

Chirpy: Boss...

Levy: Chirpy...

Chirpy: Sorry...I'm really really sorry...

Bale: <talking to Levy> What's he sorry about?

Levy: He's not talking to me. He's talking to you.

Bale: What?

Bale: ... <falls into unconsciousness>

Chirpy: Did I do okay boss?

Levy: It's hardly the most difficult of tasks. If you can shake a supporters hand, wave, smile and pose for a photo you can stick a needle in someone's neck.

Chirpy: So...I did okay?

Levy: Don't fret. Gareth won't remember a thing.

Levy's office, any given transfer window...

Coach: Can I have money for a striker?

Levy: No. We have no monies available. It's being reinvested in our...in our youth academy.

Coach: All of it?

Levy: Yes. All of it.

Coach: This wasn't agreed when I became coach.

Levy: It's in your contract.

Coach: No it's not.

Levy: Hold on <buzzes intercom> Chirpy, can you come in here for a second please. Oh and bring...that pointy stabby thing I gave you.

Some time later...in a secret laboratory.

Levy: Is it done?

Man in white coat: Yes. Well, almost. It's practically a complete match, aside from some minor physical discrepancies.

Levy: Excellent, excellent.

Man in white coat: What do we call it?

Levy: Pick a name from the phone book. I'll have all fake documentation in place in the next few days. When will it be ready?

Man in white coat: To play? A few months. He's currently at 87% of the accelerated growth stage.

Levy: Did you make the changes I asked for?

Man in white coat: Yes, yes. He won't have a Welsh accent. I've made him Irish.

Levy: Good, good. We don't want the great unwashed getting suspicious. Or anyone else for that matter. Operation 'Northumberland Development Project' is up and running. Phase one is complete.

On the training pitch.

Lennon: So I said to her, I said...get your coat love, you've pulled.

Bale: No way!

Lennon: Yeah man.

Bale: What happened next?

Lennon: She got her coat.

Bale: <turns head> There's the new kid.

Lennon: <turns to look> Hmm.

Kenneth McEvoy: Alright lads.

Bale: Alright.

Lennon: Alright

Bale: Does he remind you of someone?

Lennon: I can't quite place the face.

Levy's office.

Man in white coat (incognito): You wanted to see me?

Levy: Yes, yes. Come in.

Man in white coat: What can I do for you Mr Levy.

Levy: <in chair stroking cat> I have funds for another one.

Man in white coat: Another clone?

Levy: Let's not get bogged down with the technicalities.

Man in white coat: You want me to work from the same template?

Levy: No. This is phase two. This time, I want an exact match.

Man in white coat: Welsh accent?

Levy: Yes. It's time for the special relationship with our Spanish friends to bear some fruit.

Man in the white coat: Understood.

Levy: Oh, one more thing. McEvoy.

Man in the white coat: Decommission?

Levy: Yes. We've proved the process works. Shame we gave him an Irish accent. Could have saved us the extra work and costs.

Man in the white coat: What should I have done with him?

Levy: Wipe his mind clean. Then box him up. We'll need someone when we revamp the mascot again.

Summer, 2013.

Real Madrid: We are very happy to present to you our £70M signing, Gareth Bale.

Bale: Pleasure to be here <holds up Madrid shirt>

Back at White Hart Lane, Levy's office.

Chirpy: He's waking up.

Levy: Leave us.

Chirpy: <cough>

Levy: What? Oh, yes. Your payment of crystal meth is in reception.

Chirpy: Thanks boss.

Levy: Get out.

Levy: Wakey wakey dear boy.

Bale: Where am I? What...what happened?

Levy: Sorry Gareth.

Bale: Am I not meant to be in Madrid?

Levy: Oh, you are, you are. Well, sort of.

Bale: I don't understand.

Levy: Microscopic small print in your contract fortunately means you're staying with us.

Bale: This doesn't make sense. If that isn't me in Madrid...and Madrid think they've signed me...

Levy: Hush, hush. Two questions for you Gareth. How passable an impersonation do you do of an Irish accent? And the second is...how does this look. It's your new identity.

Bale: Kenneth McEvoy?

Levy: Just think of it like you're in witness protection.

Hotspur Way later that summer.

Villas-Boas: Can I have some money to buy a striker?

Levy: We have no funds. That McEvoy looks a decent player though. You should start playing him a lot more. You should really start looking to play him. You really should. Play McEvoy.

Villas-Boas: Hold up, no funds? What did you do with the £70M from selling Bale?

Levy: Vegas with Joe Lewis. Those roulette tables are evil.

Villas-Boas: But £70M? All of it?

Levy: Sorry Andre, what happens in Vegas...stays in Vegas.

Villas-Boas: But roulette? Really?

Levy: <on mobile> Chirpy. Stabby thing. ASAP.

Some time later...in a secret laboratory.

Levy: We have a £70M budget. Phase three is a go.

Man in the white coat: Phase three? What's the next assignment?

Levy: Holographic technology.

Man in the white coat: For what?

Levy: I want to project an image that a stadium is being built on that plot of land I bought.