If the Premier League was a cheesy nightclub, Chelsea and Manchester City would be roped off in VIP, necking pints of Cristal and unashamedly beckoning every good-looking bird on the dance floor to join them.
Manchester United and Liverpool would be lingering in there too, jealously guarding their prized assets until their credit cards are declined and they get thrown in with the masses. "You seen Stevie Gee?"."Um, I think he went outside for a bit with that Italian bird."
Down in the '£10-drink-all-you-can' room Stoke and Wigan are seriously ripping it up, throwing beer in the air and chatting up every fancy lady in earshot. "Hey love.this man here can throw a football further than most men can kick it."
Meanwhile, Tottenham and Aston Villa are dressed up to the nines and trying desperately to get into VIP. "We won the double in '61 mate, every heard of Jimmy Greaves?"
"Come on man, we've got Emile Heskey. Surely that makes us a big club?"
The night is already over for Bolton and Hull. The doormen are a picky bunch and they just didn't like the look of Kevin Davies and Jimmy Bullard. The Championship Kebab Shop beckons. They'll see an emotional Portsmouth in there, eating packets of ketchup and chewing on wooden forks.
Wolves and Burnley somehow got in with fake IDs, and are sat together drinking snakebite, but it's only a matter of time before they get found out.
Fulham, Everton and Birmingham are rather pleased with themselves. They've all pulled middle-of-the-road birds and very sensibly brought out exactly the right amount of cash to see them through the night. "That'll do us then."
West Ham and Sunderland are, excuse the pun, hammered. They're enjoying every second of it and don't really care what happens next.
But in a dimly-lit corner, a tall, suave, and impeccably charming gentleman is making his play. Having turned up late, he avoided the scraps outside and had no problem checking his stylish coat. The most beautiful woman in the club is now in his sights. Some might call her the most prized trophy in the cabinet.
"The name's FC, Arsenal FC," he whispers. "Let me get you something to drink."
And before you know it, she's smitten. "You're not like the others," she says. "You've got class and you know how to play the game. That Chelsea bloke offered me £50 million, Man City said they'd buy me a continent. Man United showed me a grainy picture of George Best and Liverpool pulled the sympathy card. But you're different."
As the lights come on, Arsenal and their trophy lady are the only punters left in the club.
While the big boys with the big wallets were busy attracting all the attention, the mysterious man in red stole in and claimed the prize. "It was never in doubt," he whispers to the doorman.
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Nag's Head roared back into action on Sunday with a 1-0 mauling of Lovett's Insurance.
'Snorter' got the winner from the penalty spot, prompting a predictably high-pitched reaction from his missus.aka Miss Piggy.
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