The Great Arsenal ‘ITK’ Mystery, the Thrilling Conclusion…..
"WHEN YOU LAST TUNED IN, OUR DASHING HEROES WERE DELVING DEEP INTO THE SORDID UNDERBELLY OF STAMFORD BRIDGE ON THE HUNT FOR THE NEFARIOUS MISCREANT WHO HAS BEEN SPINNING A WEB OF TRANSFER SPURIOUS-NESS!!
THE TWO WONDER-DETECTIVES HAD BEEN COWARDLY KNOCKED OUT COLD BY AN UNKNOWN ASSAILANT!
CAN OUR AMAZING DUO ESCAPE WITH THEIR LIVES?
CAN THEY FOIL THE DASTARDLY PLAN OF THE TRANSFER SHIT-SPREADER?
WILL I EVER STOP TYPING IN CAPITAL LETTERS?!
IT’S TIME TO FIND OUT FOLKS! IT’S THE THRILLING CONCLUSION TO…….
' THE ITK ALWAYS RINGS TWICE!!!! ' “…….
When finding yourself in a squeeze tighter than a pair of Bee-Gee’s slacks, in my experience hunting justice for the common man, I’ve realised one thing: avoid them. Nothing good can come of a lack of choice and being caught between a rock and a hard place. It’s god-damn uncomfortable and you can never reach your lighter for a smoke….
So here we are. The last thing I remember before awakening to a feeling of being bound was the lift doors opening and what seemed like metallic computer mice launched toward my noggin. Not just me though, Gunnersaurus as well.
Upon opening my groggy eyes, I see that I haven’t been moved that much. Tied up, bound to a surprisingly comfortable desk chair, complete with wheels on the bottom, and put in the centre of a semi-circle couch, which currently housed about five heavy-set guys who seemed intent on at some point finding out whether my ribs can contort. It doesn’t seem as if they’re here to play Backgammon.
The room is rather large, exposed brickwork giving it a feel of intentional decay, much like a modern club. Never liked those places, give me a smoky gin-joint any day of the week. The whole area had an aura of crimson, probably from the red neon bulbs overhead. Leather couches lined the edges of the room, sat in these couches were skinny girls wearing a variety of gaudy leather-wear and other things that would make their parents blush and say Hail Mary. Their attentions however, were all on the centre of the room.
In the centre of the room, on a floor of polished steel it would seem, were four desks, all aluminium. They had been pushed together to form a square. Atop these cold items of furniture were what resembled computers with huge flat-screen monitors. The screens must have been 40inch or you can call me PeeWee. The PC’s looked like futuristic beings from another planet. I’ve always been a luddite, favouring the HB pencil and notepad, GS was always the computer whizz, but even his computer wouldn’t recognise these monsters if they bumped into each other at a PC Party. They glowed green, with circuit boards and wires coming out of the yazoo. It was like a scene from a sci-fi movie. Not a particularly good one because I had the headache from hell and the lighting was exacerbating it. What was this ear-bleeding cacophony being filtered through the speakers in the wall? No….It can’t be. Say it ain’t so. Not Beiber…..
A chorus of ‘Baby Baby’ laid assault upon not only my eardrums, but my mind as well. I struggled against the binds, but they were fine straps that resisted my best attempts. I hear a high-pitched mewling to my left, I see my good buddy GS in the same boat as me. Strapped and in music hell. His struggle and fight were far greater than mine but to no avail, the straps held tough. The music was growing louder now, I don’t think I can t….
Do you recall when I told you that our chances were slim and none? Well dollface, it seems ‘slim’ just left town…..
At that moment, the music cut off. Thank Dennis Bergkamp. All the stragglers and idiots with the nifty haircuts were silent. Lights focused on the four desks. At each desk now sat a figure. One stood up…..
"I see you’ve awoken from your impromptu slumber fellas! How nice! Let me introduce myself. How can we expect to have a conversation when you can’t address me properly!"
The figure, now in full view, began walking toward me. He was wearing a stained t-shirt that was two sizes too small for his burgeoning gut. He had hair of no discernible style and wore Umbro tracksuit bottoms with an elasticated waistband that was already screaming in submission. In one hand, he brandished a box of MicroChips. Not the technical variety, the cardboard potato variety. In the other was a jar of Hellmans Mayonnaise that in pauses between his sentences he dipped his digits into and slurped off. If this guy ever saw daylight, let alone speak to the fairer-sex, then I’ll be Bendtners Uncle.
He stopped just short of me. His stench was reminiscent of unwashed geriatrics and forgotten cheese.
" I believe you know me as IndyKalia, but we are known by many other tags. We have been named many but what we truly are…."
All of the supposed followers of this cadre stood up as one. All straight as an arrow, backs unyielding…
" WE ARE LEGION ". All in unison, like a Hammer Horror version of a Choir.
" Thank you, my pets. Now. I believe you’ve been digging, haven’t you naughty boys? You have been looking for the source to all those awful transfer links that seem to be doing the rounds like some terrible smell? Well. I can tell you this, DETECTIVES. You have found the hands which typed them, but I can’t reveal my sources…."
That meant this ran deeper than Chuck Norris’s beard. I looked at my old pal GS. He wasn’t writhing with customary anger now. He seemed tranquil, if anything. No, not tranquil. Focused. He was up to something. Think back to our original encounter when we had our feet up in our office. Damn, right now, I miss our office. Anyway, When that porcelain-faced Damsel bust not only my door but my heart, GS had been ready to file his deadly claws. Maintenance, he liked to call it. Well, he never quite managed to carry out that safety procedure, did he? Thank Bergkamp he didn’t. He was busy using those sharp utensils to rip through the fabric that currently had his hands behind him. You beautiful Green Bastard. Still, even with a raging dinosaur on my team, we were ridiculously outnumbered.
Indy snapped me out of my hopeful reverie.
" WHERE, ARE, MY, MANNERS!! Would you like to meet the rest of the Doomsday Team? Do you like our name? Too apocalyptic? Ah, who cares what a goody two-shoes detective thinks! It’s Fabulous! "
The figures who were at the central desks waddled forward, aside from one, who dragged what should have been a limb, behind him.
" Detective, I give you…….
AND OUR SPECIAL GUEST, DRIPPING WITH EVIL….IS SALOMON KALOU!!!
The guy with the floppy leg was Kalou. the other two were as greasy and as corpulent as Indy. They revelled in my apparent hopelessness and it would seem that Kalou was there to act as their abhorrent muse. Dressed in a patchwork quilt of football jerseys, ranging from my beloved Arsenal to Evian, from Malmo to Morton. He danced suggestively in front of the filthy rumour-mongers. It was evident that the dancing ‘inspired’ them, as their fingers twitched as if typing an invisible keyboard and their Umbro trackpants developed a small dark pattern at the crotch.
A small chink of light appeared on the far wall in the corner. A head popped out of it. a voice from the bright aperture uttered, ” Indy, Sir, your mum is on the phone. She wants to know if you want turkey dinosaurs or chicken nuggets for….”
Indy went apopleptic ” TELL HER IT’S ALWAYS TURKEY DINOSAURS! I’M BUSY DOING IMPORTANT WORK AND SHE STARTS TO CA…”
" She wants to talk to you ". The voice, the chink of light then disappeared sharply.
Indy fished out a mobile phone from his no-doubt disgusting pocket.
" Muuuum, I told you I was busy doing important eeeevil wooorrrk….Yes……Yes….I know……But I……Yes mum……………………..Love you too "
I looked over at GS. This was our chance. All of his gang were staring at Indy and sharing his awkward moment. GS had freed both gargantuan hands and was now free to rip open the straps tying his feet together. It took a second.
With that, GS leapt off the chair that had been keeping him captive. To this day I still have never seen him as angry. The nearest is whenever John Terry comes to the Emirates but my faithful green friend that day allowed me to be privy to a raging ballet as he tore into the ITK’s faithful henchmen. They were still in a semi-trance from that shameful phonecall. The next thing they knew was a 4inch sharp claw had rendered their insides as external, gory decorations. From person to person he attacked with roaring glee. The red mist had not only descended, but he was surfing on a crest of a bloody wave.
GS found himself near my position and handily freed me of my bonds. A curt nod was enough to acknowledge my appreciation.
All that was left was about three of the following and Indy, Ben, Wayne and Salomon. GS bared one tooth, growled what must’ve been the infamous ‘Brown Noise’ because Ben and Wayne simultaneously shat themselves and ran for the exit.
Indy roared……” BRING OUT THE GIMP!!!! “
A large wrought-iron cage came crashing down from the ceiling, directly hitting the space between us and our vile enemies. It was empty. A scutter could be heard revertebrating around the room. It was out there…..
Just then, it came into view as it launched itself at GS. GS struggled to stay on an even keel, but I identified it. It was Yann M’Vila. So that’s where he has been hiding….
Kalou then sought to protect his leader. He cartwheeled toward me and flung his limp limb toward my head. It was a lax attempt at inflicting pain. I caught his foot, it felt completely boneless. I wrenched it toward me, so he was close enough to smell my fist. He did. ZONK!!! It was the last thing he did before blissful unawareness hit him. He crumpled to the floor.
I looked to my compadre, who had everything under control. He had gotten Yann into a headlock and booked a medical with BUPA for him. That was all he had wanted. The animal Yann had become quelled instantly. He shook GS’s ample paw and made his way from this now redundant hovel. The other henchmen, witnessing their primary weapon being disarmed so easily, turned on their cowardly heels and fled. Pity, I had a taste for it. I took a step toward Indy, whose abundant paunch now quivered like a startled jelly.
" Pleaseplease, I can’t get into a fight. If my mum finds out she’ll ground me for weeks and take away the WIFI, please don’t hit me my mum can’t know!!!… "
I feinted a punch halfway toward our timid wrongdoer. It was enough to send him to his knees.
" OKOKOKOK, please, don’t hit me my mum will kill me!!! "
" Reveal your ‘sources’ to uz. Eef you do, you can walk out of ‘ere now. "
His answer froze GS and chilled my blood……..
We raced out of Stamford Bridge and West London without speech. Cigarette after cigarette was smoked. No words needed to be exchanged between us. We knew we had to end things. We knew where we needed to go….
A Plush, expansive apartment overlooking the Thames. A knock on the door, polite but with intent.
The inhabitant walked toward the door, clad in nothing but a pair of designer pants that were clearly too small for him but he was of the opinion that this was fashion. The smell of cooking bacon fillled the living space.
As the mystery man attempted to utter a querying greeting, my fist met his jaw as the door was opened. Fury coursed through my veins. Fury borne from betrayal.
" ‘Ow could you do zees, afterr everyzink I ‘ave done for you, that Arsenal ‘as done forr you. Why spread zese liiieeess?"
My pain leaked across my words. My pain was apparent.
A thin curl of a smile poked itself across Niklas Bendtners now spoiled mouth. He wiped blood from his leaking lips. It smeared across his visage and teeth.
" It was clear you were never going to make me the ‘New Henry’, even though my talent deserves it. You loaned me out, they didn’t like me, so I came back. I was too big for Arsenal and YOU didn’t like it. So I used my superior intelligence to pull the rug from underneath you. If my talent couldn’t beat you, then I would make THE FANS hate you. I recruited computer geeks with too much time on their hands to concoct transfer links. Transfer links that would serve only to infuriate the fans as it makes it seem as if you’re not active in the market. How can you sign someone who isn’t even in talks with you? So the fans would turn slowly, until they realised that you were too small-time for the Club. But you had to go spending and snooping didn’t you! You couldn’t keep recruiting youngsters on the cheap! You had to get Ozil! Sanchez! Chambers! Then you had the audacity to try and send me to PALACE!!! I should be gracing the Barcelona teamsheet, or Real!! How DARE you treat the Royal Prince of Denmark this way!! I will build up my network of ITK’s again! We will dethrone you Arsene!! I would’ve gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you and that pesky dinosaur!!! "
I took him by his ridiculous ponytail. With excessive force. He yelped but I had no time for his voice, or his procrastinating, nor his protests. I had given him everything he had needed to make it and it still wasn’t enough to please him. sometimes, you have to realise that, just like with Anelka, you had to cut your losses and start afresh.
" That iz enough from you. You will be going farr away from ‘ere, Niklas. No more connections wiz us, no more trouble. Go lay them at anuzzer clubs doorstep. I ‘ereby terrminate your contract. "
Bendtners eyes widened. He sank to the floor.
" What do I do now? Do YOU HEAR ME?!?!? What do I do now? "
GS threw a Huawei mobile at him.
I said to him ” Florentino Perez is on ze uzzer end of ze phone. Why don’t you ask ‘im? “.
GS and I left the apartment, and our Danish failure, behind. Permanently.
The drive back to the office was silent again. A sense of moroseness settled over us like an invisible blanket. What a waste of resources. Of talent. If only he had applied himself like Ramsey….
As we pulled up to HQ, the Dame who yearned so desperately for our help at the beginning was standing at the doorway, just as breathtaking as before. She was holding what appeared to be tickets. She walked elegantly toward the driver window. she waited for the window to lower and I obliged. She bent down and her gaping blouse hinted at wonders I could only envisage in my fantastical daydreams.
In a suitable husky tone she said ” I know what you’ve done for me, both of you. I can never repay you for ending my torment but, as a start, hows about coming with me to Brazil for a sunny break? All the beach football and secret negotiations you can shake a stick at! “
GS and I exchanged a glance. Such was our rapport we oft never needed words. It would seem that we were beach bound. I hope we get some good snaps…….