The Twilight Zone
Presenting for your consideration…the eircom League. An ordinary league, with a not so ordinary monster.
The people of the eircom League have to make sure they think happy thoughts and say happy things. Because this particular monster can read internet forums and, if displeased, can turn people into grotesque, walking terrors, doomed to have their admission fee go straight out on league fines for daring to criticise him and his lackies.
And did I mention to you that this monster is a senior FAI official?
Quite a twist, huh? Best you didn’t see that one coming.
You did?!
Shut up.
JD – “Every day, same old atmosphere. I’ll make it more interesting”. He furrows his brow, causing an army of undead stewards to jump up and lurch towards the fans who are trying to start a bit of an atmosphere with a megaphone, which the stewards confiscate.
JD – “Ah, there. That’s better.”
Derry fans – “Much better!” “It’s good that you made that awful megaphone go away, JD! It’s real good!” JD wanders off.
Derry fans (to Bohs fans, stand left) – “He gets it from your side of the border, you know. No monsters on our side. Except Paisley.”
JD gets on the 46A bus and decides he’s going to drive it. The bus careens down the road with JD at the wheel as the passengers on the bus scream in panic. The driver is on the floor manning the pedals.
JD – “Quit riding the brake. Give it some gas, man!” The bus whizzes past two cops, who say, “Hiya, JD!” At Merrion Square, we see an overturned bus parked in front. Inside...
PC – “Well, assembled people of the media, the standings in our league have been changed again, to correspond with Ollie’s requests in yesterday’s brown envelope. [Groans from the media] The league was now won in 1942, and ever since, by ... [consults letter] Shelbourne. And Bohs aren’t called Bohs any more. They’re ‘Bonerland FC’.”
PC rings JD on the phone and serenades him.
PC – “Hello my lordship, hello my hero, hello my head honcho.”
JD meanwhile sits on his throne, attended to by the twins, Roddy and Steve. He calls for the phone.
Bobby Ryan (answers the phone) – “Ryan’s Tavern. Hold on, I’ll check. Uh, hey, everybody! I’m a stupid moron with an ugly face and big butt and my butt smells and I like to kiss my own butt.” All the Shels players laugh.
Glen Crowe – “Ho ho, that’s a good one!”
JD heads off to the pub. Paul Doolin is watching the football game, and a free-kick is being lined up. JD wants to watch Bosco. When PD refuses, JD furrows his brow, and poof! PD disappears. Thank God.
TV commentator – “The kick is taken! It’s looking good! The ball is turning into a fat bald guy!” PD sails through the air screaming and collides with the goal post. “And it’s no good! And you know what we say every time something strange happens. It’s good that JD did that! It's very good!”
JD changes channel. An Ireland U-21 game is just over. DG is being interviewed.
DG – “Well, I’m still manager. Three hundred and forty-six consecutive defeats. And all because of one little boy who...who WON’T LET ME STOP!!! Anyway, now let's go over and see if Sideshow McCafferty has any more of those illegal under-your-jacket protest banners of his!”
A group of eL fans arrive into the pub. They each take a red card out of their pockets and show them to JD. JD, however, has read an internet forum and knows what’s about to happen, so he turns the TV up and ignores them. The fans give up and go home. JD finishes watching the telly and, having nothing better to do with his time, logs on to the internet and reads more posts about fans who disagree with him, printing several off to put in a folder and mull over rather than looking after the more important aspects of Irish football. Like getting referees for matches.
This article originally appeared in print in STIG Volume V, Issue VIII
