In an attempt to prove that I could do a better job of managing Forest than Stuart Pearce, I decided to use the most advanced football manager simulator I could get my hands on.
So, let's kick off then.
Who do I have in my squad? (note the use of a technical term - I'm an expert)
Hmmm, not sure who these players are, but lets guess anyway:
1. P. Parkes - I think he was Spiderman.
2. D Watson - Sherlock Holmes' flatmate.
3. P Neal - No clue.
4. A Martin - Aston Martin? Must be who the car is named after.
5. K Sansom - Think he was married to Delilah.
7. R Osman - That tall bloke off Pointless.
11. G Rix - Think he used to appear in plays with no trousers on.
15. B Talbot - Nope, no idea.
16 S McCall - Did a song called 'Convoy' in the 1970s.
17 C Regis - Seaside resort in Dorset.
19 T Morley - Fat bloke, wrote for the Spectator.
23 K Keegan - A prick.
Right. So that's that sorted.
Let's play our first game!
Blackpool. But how good are they?
Oh, that good. Right - well lets do some squad changes and see what difference it makes.
The defence is nice and strong and I only have one unselected player, Talbot in Midfield, so I'll select him and drop Sansom. He's not performed well since that haircut anyway.
So this is my starting 11:
And this is how we stack up against Blackpool's mighty warriors!
OK - lets type 99 and watch the action unfold in glorious 8bit.
And amazing run down the wing by an unidentifyable white stick figure resulting in Nott'm Forest being 1 -0 up!
But wait, there's more.
2 - 0! COME ON YOU REDS! Amazing display of talent by one of my players. That square football went into the strangely malformed goal mouth and put us another goal ahead.
Oh the excitement.
No, genuinely, this is quite exciting.
Honest.
The whistle has blown (buzzed).
I'm just happy for the fans really.
So now we get to see what the other teams got up to.
Hereford did well, as did Colchester - but our +2 goal difference should do us proud today.
Third! Look at that! Get in.
Celebrations are in order tonight. Professor! Uncork the Champagne! Send Zenith and Quasar to bed! I am a WINNER!
So, how much money do I have?
Woohoo! I'm feckin' rich!
So who can I buy?
Oh God, it's that bloody Robson Jerome bloke. Squeaky voice and a face like a Doner Kebab.
I'll give you £2,500 for him (I have no leeway in case of injury at the moment, I need to build up the squad).
NO F**KING WAY!
OK, £3Gs, that's your limit, bitch.
Walking away.
I can't hardly wait for the next match.
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