In all fairness, how else can these characters play their parts? Our Captain Calls For Victory. Our Manager Bemoans Soft Goals. A 19-year-old Is Thrust Into The Spotlight of Ridiculous Expectations. And Our Best Player Hasn’t Unpacked Yet But Is On His Way Back To…Los Angeles.

Really?

Did you ever think you’d live long enough to read that an aging Irishman linked to Villa for the better part of a decade would finally arrive from the barren football wastelands of the City of Angels and Raymond Chandler, play better than anyone else who’d been laboring in claret and blue at B6 for god knows how long, and then actually be reclaimed by a club that would struggle for promotion from League One?

Well, you have. Congratulations. Complimentary sausage rolls are…well, someone’s got them, and it’s not me. But well done anyway. The NHS would like to do some surveys on the way out, if you’re so inclined.

This is life as a Villan. And it’s not meant to be a comedy, from what I understand. But it inevitably turns out that way, regardless.

No disrespect, but couldn’t Beye’s wages pay all the Galaxy for a season? Didn’t we just hand over £500k for six weeks? Shouldn’t that sort of mean that if Keane did well, he’d naturally be staying on where football is a way of life, not a fourth-tier distraction?

Apparently not. But…Thank you, Robbie Keane. You’ve done a fantastic job, even if you’ve only reminded us of the sort of class we lack. Absolute Master Class, really. We sincerely applaud you.

Stephen Ireland? This is who you are. But better and younger. Come on, give it to us. Be a legend. Show City they should never have dismissed you so lightly.

After all…You’re now playing for a bigger club.

Stan The Man

Our captain has called for victory against nouveau-riche league-leaders Manchester City at the weekend. And why not? We’ve not won many, home or away, so we might as well beat City to make up the numbers. The unexpected three points will do us good. And it’s not like they’ve got much pedigree, even if they have two of our favorite glory-hunters, er, former players, on the books. Just a bunch of money-grubbing foreign mercenaries due for a proper hiding.

How do we do it? Kick them early and often, and far upfield. You let a bunch of silky footballers wearing poncey sky-blue strip get a step on you and, well…No one needs to feed their egos. Remind them they’re playing in England, not Spain.

Come On, Gary

He’s only 19, but manager Alex McLeish wants young Gardner to put the boot in on Bodymoor Heath…or anywhere else you can wear boots and run around in them.

I agree. Pretty simple, this one. The looks of a choirboy, the heart of an assassin. I like it.

Leaky Things At The Back

No, it’s not the latest Stephen King novel, but it might as well be. If our back four aren’t a horror show, then Cujo isn’t a dog.

But what do you do? Frankly, Lichaj couldn’t do any worse than Hutton, even if he were still injured. Really. Whatever happens, it won’t be any worse than Hutton’s usual outing, where every foray down our right flank ends up in a cross or corner.

Cuellar/Clark, Collins/Dunne? Whatever combination you come up with involving large, sociopathic stewards? Lay it on me. Hell, give Stevens a start at LB.

If we’re going to beat City, we might as well make them look stupid while we’re doing it.

So…Your turn

Formations, tactics, personnel…You tell me how you’d set things up to beat City. Best game plan (determined completely at random and with no discernible criteria) gets a free Villa t-shirt courtesy of electrolite design. You haven’t heard of them, but you will.

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