A Royal Rehabilitation

[MaestroCC]

A Royal Rehabilitation

*Warning, if easily offended by profane language, then I advise you to not read this. This is a core part of my character.
Prologue –Part I
2nd​ January 2017

“They’re all yids. The officials, the ref, the ******* ball boy was a jewey an’ all. ******* Yiddish *****, ‘course it was a goal! FIVE FEET over it was- then having the ******* bollocks to book me?! **** ‘im. He’s a **** an’ all, bet he’s a yid actually! yeah, what about you uh…Eh?…Not-not about the goal, about the jew.. “What jew he says” - the yid in black!, Pardon? Don’t give a- No **** ‘em at home don’t give a wank, past the watershed ain’t it? Gary agrees with me won’t he, ‘Mr Nice Guy’ eh? **** ya…”

Should never have said that. Biggest mistake of my life that. I didn’t even want to drink that wine. Cheers me up he said, have a fun time he said. ******. Bollocks to Matt though it ain’t his fault. I just really ******* hated Spurs. I was young. A ******* idiot on top of it. Acting like a **** on tele.

“Right, now that’s out of the way…” said the lovely little local escort beside me.

“What’s the damage…” I forgot her name.

“Rachel. You see me enough, would’ve thought you’d remember my name.”

I reiterated. “What’s the damage”

“80. The blowy is extra cause of petrol. You understand?”

“ ’Course. You know Raquel, I was thinking… maybe you should kip round here, just tonight. Just thought, we see each other a lot, thought it could be like a trial… or something.”

She paused. “You really need a hamster or something.” She strutted away with her twenties and skirt as I try to recall what time I should be at the ground. I looked around in my crappy flat and wondered how I accumulated so much **** and food on tables and socks lying around, even though Raleigh was the first visitor in two months. I’m a loner, even when I had a family, I still had friends coming round, watching films with me. Christ. It’s been a long time since I remember my time with my family. Angels. Absolute angels. But my angel’s wings were cut off by the devil’s minions in white. ******* yids.

Next part of the prologue soon, would like some feedback and improvements as this is my first story

 

[MaestroCC]

Prologue Part II

23rd​ April 2004

This was one of the most despicable double murders I’ve come across, and definitely the top one with the worst reason. It’s never gorgeous seeing a dead child. It’s never nice seeing their mother dead beside them. But it’s horrible, knowing that the father is sitting next to them, alive and well, being interviewed about it.
“Wayne! You need to see this now.” Said my female colleague. The emphasis on ‘now’ made me want to rip my eyes out to prevent myself from seeing any more carnage. But there was none. Instead, as I travelled to the bathroom -a nice en suite one, was something you’d see in a Stephen King adaptation. It was a message. “The Jews are the men who will be blamed for nothing.” That was the message that written by Jack the Ripper after a woman was murdered.

“Right that’s it now, let’s get back to our man.” I ordered as I soldiered our men back into the dining room.

“We know who you are, we know what you did and what you said on match of the day, but these are standard questions, so I don’t want for you to take offence. What’s your name?” It took him a couple of minutes until he responded with “Conor Cannon.”
“Do you think anyone would have a grudge against you?” That was a stupid question. But I only realized when he sobbed. He cried and cried until he just fell onto the floor. It makes me cry at night just thinking about what he went through. After being sacked as a player for those comments, I heard that he was going into youth coaching. But after this, I wanted to put suicide watch on him. I wouldn’t blame him though.

Final part of prologue revealed later today!

 

[MaestroCC]

Prologue Part III

2nd​ November 2011

“Well I’m a mushroom cloud layin’ ************ ************! Every time these fingers touch brains, I’m supafly TNT, I’m the…”

“Yello?”
“It’s Harold.” Harold hasn’t called me in eight years.
“Well I am truly lost for words here.
“Conor I found you a job in Reading.” Harold hadn’t got me a job in ten years.
“**** off, Harry I’m not going to clean cars or drive buses around fuc-!
“No Con. It’s the manager position. Brian McDermott resigned.”
Well this was a surprise package. “Reading FC?” “Where were they?” I questioned.
“4th.”
This was bullshit. Play off position in November was **** decent for Reading.
“Harold you’re drunk you fat *******, you strung me along like a violin, now pack it away and let me be.”
“Conor, on my kids, Madejski wanted you himself.” He can pronounce the name right, maybe he isn’t drunk. I put the phone on speaker and went on my pc to check it out.
“Are you sure he’s aware of me?”
“Everyone’s aware of you, Conor”
“Woah, who kicked the side of your kennel?" If this if for real then I need to make doubly sure. Refreshed the BBC Sports page and a breaking news item popped up. Harold's right.
"He hasn’t just googled me and have some fit secretary fax him my resumé has he?”
“He’s already emailed me the date and time for the interview.” I pictured him smiling at that remark. Where has the time gone.
“Why do they need me? I’m not the most respectful of people.” I said as I gazed at my picture on my wall with me playing for England, giving the finger to Luis Figo. My framed picture.
“Need isn’t the right word actually, more like-”
“Last resort?” I didn’t like that. Not one bit. I've been labelled variations of those words at the end of my playing days. Liability. Past it. Heskey. That one still hurts.
“Harold. Why did he resign?”
“Rumours flying around like a bag in the wind, Con. But they all point to an extra-marital affair with a stripper in Leeds.”
“That’s why they’re rumours mate.”
“I’ve seen this girl, mate, and her bump ain’t no rumour I can tell you that.”
****, that’s gonna hit The Sun like a syringe to a smackhead. “What are the players like?”
“You’re gonna take it?” he said it like the excited ***** that he was.
“Didn’t say that did I. But I’m considering. I’ve got Pulp Fiction on pause at the moment. Why don’t you come round, and we’ll sort it, like we used to.”

Harold hung up. Our bond has been frosty since the family. Maybe it’s time to make myself a better person and take this job. Stop all this pity **** and make myself useful. I can prove I’m not a foul mouthed liability. My son’s sake. For Amy’s sake.

Was too gutted about England to post this one last night. First part of the story coming up soon! Thoughts would be appreciated!