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Honeymoon over, done ‘n dusted
Our first eleven proper mustard
Compared to dire performances of before
Proverbial writing on the wall
An icon, lost sight of the spherical
Sorry son, on your way out…shut the door.
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Finally, the unwritten code is broken
Out there in plain sight, in the open
Under scrutiny in the real World, fans inhabit?
He didn’t have the chutzpah did he
Well if, I thought in admiration via B.T,
There’s a prize for being visionary, we’ll ‘ave it?
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Three smug post-match ex-pros
On a late-night football show
Agreed, that isn’t how we do things here
After all, does he really need
To instigate a frenzied media feed?
Why not just have a quiet word in his ear?
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Listening in, I had to bite my tongue
At their stance our gaffer should stay shtum,
The credit column of their managerial yield?
Admiring an angry kick at a bottle of water
By a winger, had he performed as ordered
Might well still be out there on the field?
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What goes on in the dressing room…
Swept away by a stiff new broom
Irrespective of the personal gain or loss
Have the days of player power
Been scrutinized, toyed with, devoured
By a simple one act drama, I’m The Boss?
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The new normal will soon come
Akin to rays of soothing Summer sun
We’ll bask again in a football club’s hub bub
While over in London South West Six
A few rich derrieres have begun to twitch
After witnessing Thomy Tuchel tug the sub.*