If meat pie millionaire Joe Price had never bought lowly Coca-Cola League Two side Frogley Town and vowed to take
them all the way to the top of the
Premiership, if football fanatic Stanley Sutton hadn't dyed his dog Fentonbottom
in the club's colours, if team manager Big Donny Donnelly hadn't had the
acquisition of a mistress as his main priority, if local radio presenter Dave Rave and Frogley Advertiser
sports journalist Martin Sneed hadn't wanted to chase their dreams, if the inmates of the local lunatic
asylum hadn't numbered themselves among Frogley Town's keenest supporters and if Frogley police chief
Superintendent Screwer hadn't sworn to rid the town of football hooligans, none of this would ever have
happened. But unfortunately they all did. Football Crazy is a comic tale of football, sex, madness, violence,
and more sex.
The following is a small sample from the book
Superintendent Screwer fixed Sergeant Hawks with a beady eye. When would
they ever learn? "Where there is football, Sergeant, there is football hooliganism.
Having been previously stationed at Leeds I know that for a fact; and I know all about the cancer in our society that football
hooliganism has become."
"With respect sir, what few supporters the Town still have are nothing like Leeds United supporters."
Screwer glared at him. If Hawks had been the office door the paint would have blistered. "Respect?" he screamed. "Respect,
Sergeant Hawks? You aren't showing me any frigging respect! If you were you wouldn't be arguing with me, you would be
making plans to adequately police Frogley Town's opening game of the season!"
Hawks bit his lip. Retirement and that cottage in the Lakes suddenly seemed much farther away. "Yes sir."
Screwer drew in his horns a little. "Football supporters are the same the world over, Sergeant. Animals. Nothing more,
nothing less. Take my word for it, just because the fans of Frogley Town have yet to reveal their true colours doesn't mean
to say that one day they aren't going to."
"No sir."
The horns shot back out again as if spring-loaded. "Well just let them! They will not find the Frogley Police Force wanting.
Not while my name is Herman Screwer they won't. We'll be ready for them, Sergeant. Ready to whip then into line; ready to break
them; ready to smash the brainless bastards into submission!" He suddenly smashed his right fist into his left hand. The splat
of the bone of his knuckles colliding with the flesh of his palm made Hawks wince. "Crowd control, that's the name of the game.
What are we like for tear gas?"
To read a complete chapter go to sample chapter
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