Alex Ferguson calls David Beckham into his office. 'David,' he says, 'I'm
worried about your performance the last few games. You've been hopeless,
completely off form.'

'Sorry, boss', says David. 'I've not been myself lately. I've got a few
problems at home.'

'Oh dear,' says Ferguson, pretending to care. 'What's up? Posh and Brooklyn
okay?' 'Oh they're fine', says David. 'It's just that something's really
bugging me and I'm losing sleep and everything. I can't concentrate on my
football and it's really messing me up.'
    
'Whatever's the matter, David?' says Fergie.

'Well, boss', says David, 'it's pretty serious. You see I'm really stuck on
this jigsaw and...'

'A jigsaw?!!!' shouts Alex. 'You're fu**ing up every time you play because
of a bloo*y jigsaw?!!!'

'Yeah, boss, but you don't understand, it's really doing my head in!' says
David in that horrible whining voice. 'It's really hard and it's this
picture of a tiger and it looks really good on the box and I'm sure I've got
all the bits and everything but I just can't get it right and it's doing my
head in and I even had my hair cut to try and cool
my brain down and...'

'David, David, David,' says Ferguson. 'You've got to get a grip. It's
affecting our games and nothing is as important as Manchester United's
success, other than Roy Keane's wages, obviously.'

'Yeah, boss,' says David, 'but it's this picture of a tiger and it looks
really good on the box and I really want to finish it but it's really hard
and it's doing my head in and it's this picture.. and it's a tiger and it's
hard...and I can't make the bits fit and, er, it's really hard, er, boss
and, er, it's a tiger, er,... on the box...er...boss.'
    
Ferguson waits until even Beckham realises he's repeating himself and has
got nothing else to say which took a bit longer than usual. 'David,' he
says, with that conceited, irritating, smug smile he uses for
self-congratulatory post-match interviews. 'Bring the tiger jigsaw in and
let's have a look at it. For Christ's sake, we've got to get you back to
playing football.'

'Oh thanks, boss,' says David, 'that'd be really helpful 'cos it's really
hard and it's a picture of a tiger and it's doing my head in, that tiger
is.'

So David brings the jigsaw into Ferguson's office. 'Here it is, boss.' He
says, showing Ferguson the picture on the box. 'Look, boss, it's this tiger,
right, and it's a really good picture and everything but I just can't do it
and it's really hard and it's doing my head in and it's this picture here of
a tiger,' and Beckham empties all
the pieces from the box all over Ferguson's desk.
 
Ferguson looks at what's on his desk and the faint dusty cloud now hanging
over it. He looks up at David Beckham. 'David, put the fu**ing Frosties back
in the box.'

Index