Chapter 29: It's Called Football Not Soccer
The next morning at about 11am, Norman came back down into the basement studio and was surprised to see Marcus asleep next to one of the tables with a pen near one of his hands and a piece of paper by the other. He shook him slightly to wake him up.
"Oh God, did I sleep down here the whole night?"
"Yep, yer' sure did."
"Ah…oh well, I was so focused on writing some ideas down that I must have lost focus on the time."
"Well, have you come up with any ideas?"
"NONE! Oh dam, I can't do this, my head's so all the over place. I just can't concentrate properly." Marcus turned on the TV in the room.
"This is BBC News 24; the news that still smells like last night's pint of lager. And now the news with a Chinese Woman with big cheeks and a man with a white stain on his shirt who looks like Tom Cruise."
"Good morning and welcome to the 11 o clock News…"
"Bloody hell, its 11am!" Marcus looked at his watch in slight shock.
"……Our top stories this hour. In sport, Middlesbrough & Chelsea go head to head today at 3 o clock in their FA Cup Semi-Final match at Stamford Bridge. The prize at stake is an FA Cup Final match against Liverpool at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. Like always, all major media companies including the BBC and Sky Sports will be supporting Chelsea and kissing their big, fat, rich, cheating arses for no reason whatsoever."
"Also in other news, MI6 have confirmed today that they've captured a group of civilians who were attempting to flee the country from yesterday. The extraction and capturing of the group was captured in this amateur video in the early hours of this morning……"
And as the video was shown on telly, Marcus' face dropped and the emotions on his face turned cold, sour and slightly angry. For it was the sight of his mother as one of the captured civilians that shocked him and angered him. The sight of his other being beaten slightly and forced into a vehicle was too much for him to take.
"……MI6 say that they are now transporting this group to the secret island project codenamed; New Britain. Over 20,000 British people have already been moved to this new island and construction is well underway in building new cities in the new country."
Marcus turned off the TV, threw the remote down onto the table and immediately walked back into the recording section of the room.
"Marcus, what are yer' doing?"
"What does it look I'm doing? I'm finishing this album no matter what. I won't let those MI6 bastards hurt or harm my mum. I may have lost my dad, but I won't lose my mum as well." Norman smiled slightly and followed him into the room as well. "Oh by the way Norman, where are the boys?"
"Huh? Oh I sent them out for the day. I gave them some money to go and see that FA Cup match today between your team and Chelsea."
"And how MUCH money did you give them?"
"Errrr, about £200."
"And who's money WAS IT!"
"Your step-dad's."
"Oh that's alright then. Yer' should have given them a lot more then." Marcus obviously showed he couldn't care less about his step-dad's money but him and Norman began production on his own album.
Meanwhile an hour and a half later just outside Chelsea's football ground; Stamford Bridge, the four boys had just arrived at the stadium after taking a taxi down to the ground. As they all jumped out, they looked up right to the top of the stadium. Although they were all still wearing jeans, the four boys had different shirts on. They were all wearing Middlesbrough Football Shirts that were the same as the football players did. They all had their names on the back plus a random number as this was to help in them blending in to the crowd a bit. Already, fans from both sides had grouped together in several places; talking, singing and drinking lager in anticipation for the big match.
"Woah dude, this place is huge."
"I never knew Soccer stadiums looked like this before."
"Cartman didn't you remember what Norman said, they don't call it Soccer over here, they call it Football."
"Oh Jesus Christ, why do they have to call everything in this country something else? Why can't they just keep it the same as we do?"
"Because they just do fat-ass! Alright, Norman said we have to go and buy tickets from the Away Ticket Office; whatever that means."
"Hey let's go and ask that person in that Office over there." Kyle spoke; pointing to a ticket office that was directly in front of them at a distance away. A few minutes later, they were just outside the Office and looked up at the only person who was in the room.
"Um, excuse me; can we buy 4 tickets for the errrrr Away Stand please?" Stan asked; leaning on the outside counter as he looked up.
The ticket official who was a Blackman looked down at the four boys. "I see you four are Middlesbrough supporters, man. Well yer' can't buy a ticket from this stand man, yer' have to go to the Away Ticket Stand………man."
"Oh Jesus Christ, not another crack-smoking Jamaican hippy." Cartman muttered under his voice.
"OK, so how do we get to the Away Ticket Stand then?"
"EASY MAN. Just go round the stadium until yer' find it."
Stan shrugged his shoulders and the four boys turned right and followed the path that went right round the stadium. Fifteen minutes later, they had finally reached it. But as they looked up, they became really annoyed.
"GOD DAM IT!" Stan shouted as he and the other three noticed that the Away Ticket Stand was based right next to the ticket office that they had just been to. They had walked around the whole stadium for nothing. The same Jamaican Blackman appeared in the ticket office.
"OH HA HA HA MAN, you so silly. You go round the whole of the stadium. That trick never fails to make me laugh man."
"God dam it; just give us our four tickets!" Stan shouted; at which he passed the money through the hole and was handed four tickets.
Just as all four of them were about to walk away with annoyed looks on their faces, Cartman stopped and quickly turned round.
"F--- you, you Black Crack-smoking Hippy bastard! Screw you whatever your name is, WE ARE GOING!"
A few minutes later, the four boys had spotted both team coaches where dozens of fans were based. On each coach, every player and member of the coaching staff and team were getting off; one for Middlesbrough and one for Chelsea. Managing to squeeze through to the front, the four boys were curious into what all the fuss was about. One of the Middlesbrough players however spotted them in the crowd and decided to have a word with them.
"Well hello there, 'aven't seen you boys ever at any Boro game 'fore. You guys new to the game?"
"Errrr, yeh." Stan replied.
"Oh, well I guess you've never heard or seen me then before. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Geraint Milligan, I'm a central Midfielder."
"So, you're on……ummm y'know…our team then?" Kyle asked; trying hard to act as British as possible.
"Yeh of course I am, that's why I've got this Boro kit with me. And lemme tell yer', playing for Boro is the best thing that ever BASTARD SHIT MOTHERFUCKING PISS happened to me."
The four boys were stunned into shock as they had no idea why he had said what he had just said. "Ummmm, why did you just say all that."
"What?"
"Y'know……THAT…all that you had just said."
"Oh y'mean FUCKING WANKER that I just said?"
"YEH, why the hell do you keep saying that?"
"I have a condition that's called Tourettes Syndrome that causes me to swear, cough and whistle without warning or when I least expect it. MWEH WANKER!" He replied; punching his chest lightly and whistling quickly.
"Dude, do you always speak like this?"
"Yeh, pretty much MWEH HA WANKER! I can't help it, I don't want to FUCK SHIT say it, but it just comes out y'know and I always seem to SHIT PISS whistle all the time for no FUCK reason whatso BASTARD ever. It MOTHERFUCKING sucks!"
"Well anyway, good luck with the match, or whatever."
"Thanks kid, I'll do my best, WANKER!" He walked off along with the other players into the stadium.
"HA HA HA, God that disease he had was so funny." Cartman spoke; at which Kyle looked at him in an annoyed mood.
"You're a stupid asshole Cartman!"
"You kids…are interested……in the game of football, yes." A man started speaking behind the boys; at which they turned round to see two tall men in expensive jackets looking down at them. "I see…that people of all ages……come to this match……interested…in see score at the end. But I sink my Chelsea team will whoop……see arses of your Middlesbrleh team……because we are better th'n you. I sink I should introduce myself…my name…is Jose Mourinho…I sink…and sis fine fellow is see chairman of Chelsea; Mr. Roman Abrhmlhmlhmlhmovich."
The man next to him who was indeed the chairman at Chelsea who looked down at the four boys with his usual big cheesy smile on his face; not saying anything.
"Ummmm, dude, did you just say that you sink? As in, sink to the bottom of the ocean?" Kyle asked; confused at the two men who now stood in front of him.
"No, no, I sink we will win, I sink."
"Yeh that's what I said, you sink."
"No I sink, I SINK."
"You sink?"
"NO! I SINK! I SINK, I SINK, I SINK! OK, I admit it; I can't bloody say tee and then haych so I have to say ss instead. I sink that you are the 100th bloody person who's said that to me. Do you not sink how hard it is to be Portugese? Why don't you stop and sink for a minute and take a sought at how hard it is to talk like sis. OK, I've had enough, I'm going." Jose walked off and turned back round to get Mr. Abromavich to follow him. "Oh Roman, look what I've got." He spoke; dangling a diamond-covered watch from his fingers.
"Ooooooo, shiny expensive object that make me look better. Da, I follow you comrade." He followed; walking like one of those typical horror-movie evil side-kicks and keeping the huge cocky smile on his face.
"Dude, who the hell were those two?" Kyle asked with a huge shocked and confused look on his face.
"I dunno dude, maybe they're like umpire guys or sumin. Come on, let's go find our seats."
5 minutes until kick off and there was a full capacity crowd inside the stadium. Fans from each side were singing and shouting; bringing the atmosphere inside to an electric high. The four boys had no idea what to do. They had never heard any of the songs that the Middlesbrough fans were singing. Infact they didn't even know the proper rules of football or how it all worked; not even the offside rule. As every minute passed by, they heard loads of fans all around them shouting the same things in a typical football fan voice.
"COME ON BORO!"
"CUH' 'AN BORO!"
"C' AH' BWAH!"
"Dude, do people always shout and sing things like this? This all seems pretty weird to me."
"Yeh I know dude, I guess this must be a British thing."
And just as it turned 3 'o' clock at that point, everybody in the stadium stood up and started clapping and cheering as both teams started walking out of the stadium tunnel and onto the pitch. As usual, the four bys had no idea what to properly do, so they just copied and clapped as well; unsure of what the whole reason for it was. As the two teams all stood in one horizontal line side by side, an announcer came onto the pitch alongside someone else.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, will you please show your appreciation and rise for the National Anthem which will be sung today by Mr. James Blunt!"
There was a massive sound of disgust around the stadium.
"Oh Jesus, not him. Marcus said his singing is s---."
And as Mr. Blunt walked out into the centre of the pitch, he started singing his version of the national anthem.
"God save our Queen! God save our Queen! She's so beautiful…HOO HOO!
I saw her face…on a 50p coin and then I saw myself and I realised that I was so Beautiful!
She's so Victorius! Happy and Glorious! But she's not as pretty and Beautiful as me or any of the wise men that I like to sing about…HOO HOO! So Goodbye my Lover Queen, God save the Queen!"
There was a huge roar of boos around the stadium as James Blunt had to be protected whilst he walked off the pitch.
"You suck…get off the f---ing pitch!" Kyle shouted as he and the other three were also booing Mr. Blunt off the pitch. As soon as he was off, the two teams shook hands and the match was well underway.
30 minutes had passed and it was still 0-0. Both teams had had an equal share in the possession of the ball and the amount of chances they had. The atmosphere inside the stadium like all major football matches was huge and so electric. With fans singing and shouting and horns and whistles being blown, this was a real British-sounding football atmosphere. Unfortunately for Stan, Kyle, Cartman & Kenny, they were sat right next to the press box where all the commentators from each media channel and radio station were sat. And every one of them apart from of course a Middlesbrough Radio station was bias and supporting Chelsea. They could hear what the nearest commentators were saying into their microphones.
"And here go Middlesbrough again; rushing forward with players. And it's Smith on the ball, rushing past the half-way. He's gone round one, now two, now three, he puts the ball INTO THE BOX, HEADER, AWWW WHAT A SAVE! The goalkeeper for Chelsea had to be at full concentration otherwise it would have been 1-0 to Middlesbrough. And it's a corner to Middlesbrough."
"Yeh, great ball into the box. There's a host of bodies in there wanting the ball; Black, Milligan, Jones; they're all yelling for the ball. In the end it falls to Milligan and fortunately for Chelsea and us as well, Middlesbrough didn't score."
"God, these commentator people are really starting to piss me off big time."
"Yeh I know dude. All they do is talk about how good this other time is. They don't even care about the Middles…whatever team."
"Corner will be taken by Megeldria. We've reached 32 minutes here in this FA Cup Semi-Final and it's still 0-0. Corner is taken; cleared by Terry up as far as Milligan who kicks it forward. Thinks about the shot…and it's MILLIGAAAAN!"
And as Milligan's shot blasted past the goalkeeper and smashed against the goal net, the entire horde of Middlesbrough supporters jumped out of their seats; yelled the word 'YEH!' and started celebrating and jumping up and down. The four boys hadn't paid attention much to what had happened, so they tried to copy what everybody was doing just to join in; unaware of why they were even doing it.
"Middlesbrough have taken the lead here at Stamford Bridge. And it's that man; Geraint Milligan, his 13th goal of the season who's put them in front. And this is an absolute nightmare for us all, because we all want Chelsea to win like always. COME ON YOU BLUES! BEAT THOSE MOTHERF---ING SMOGGIES!"
Throughout the rest of the match it was the Middlesbrough supporters who made most of the noise in the stadium. Although the Chelsea supporters tried their best to raise their team, it was not enough as Chelsea couldn't break down the Middlesbrough team. Chance after chance came and Middlesbrough found themselves having to defend for the rest of the duration of the game.
But just as it seemed that Chelsea were getting back into this game, the final whistle was blown and the whole of the Middlesbrough supporters area exploded with huge roars of celebration and relief. The four boys celebrated for other reasons; that they could finally leave and stop listening to all those commentators talking about Chelsea all the time. As they passed them by whilst walking down the stairs in the stadium, Stan and Kyle turned to the two nearest commentators; who were crying over the fact that Chelsea had lost to Middlesbrough.
"Dude, yer' crying because your team lost." Kyle spoke.
"Yeh we believe in like passion, support and all that crap, but seriously, f--- you; you need to grow up seriously." Stan spoke as well.
A couple of hours had now passed. It was now about 7 'o' clock in the evening and the four boys had just got back. They all quickly made their way back down into the basement to see How Marcus & Norman were doing with the album. Just as they entered the room, Marcus pulled out a CD that had been ejected out of a device in the studio.
"There it is boys……" Marcus spoke. "……the finished album. Luckily I managed to find some spare tracks that I had made in the past. All I had to do was edit them slightly, mix them and add lyrics to a few of them and TA DAAAR, here it is; 15 tracks of persuasive dance music heaven; or at least I hope."
"Cool, so are we done?"
"Yep, we're done. All we need to do now is get it all on the air to all those people in the country."
"So how are we gunna do that then?"
"Well, this is my plan." The boys gathered around a round table as Marcus lay out a map. "BBC Radio 1 is the most listened to radio station in the entire country. The studio for that station is located here in the BBC Studios in London. The entire studio is being closed down tomorrow for reasons I don't know of. But if we can sneak into the studios and get ourselves into the radio station room and play out both albums to every radio in the country using this small little hacking chip I have in my hand, then we might be able to get people to listen to our tunes. If that happens, then we can send out a message to everybody when they're focused on listening to the radio; to donate money so we can fly to New Britain."
"That's a pretty sound idea, but how in the world are we gunna get in there anyway. Won't there still be security people there?"
"Don't worry about that, I've got all that sorted and taken care of. Alright, we leave tomorrow at 9am sharp. At that time, we'll have approximately 32 hours left until those missiles are launched."
However unaware to anyone, a small flashing red device with a microphone attached to it was hidden in the darkest corner of the room. And it was this device that was wirelessly connected to the systems at MI6.
In a dark room filled with computers at MI6 Headquarters, the main MI6 General Leader and his two officials were stood listening to the transmitted recording.
"So, he's planning to play a little music is he? How ridiculous! Jones!"
"Yes sir?"
"Tell the Alpha Team Troopers to prepare themselves for a strike on Marcus' house just before 9am tomorrow."
"Yes sir!"
"Let's see how Marcus deals with this. I won't let this pest stop us from reaching our final goal."