On Manchester City’s New Striker

One of those friend, high on wit but low on effort, sent me the above attachment via email this morning. He was congratulating me on the recent purchase of Manchester City by investors from Abu Dhabi.

‘How nice of him,’ I said as I sat at my laptop at the breakfast table. ‘It’s a shame that I don’t support Manchester City, otherwise this barb would have found a worthy home.’

Judy carried on stirring her porridge and didn’t seem at all interested in the picture on my screen. A plan to raid Oxford Road’s shops had been curtailed when Cilla Black called it off on account of what the rain might do to her complexion. I have often suggested she try Ronseal but that’s the problem with Cilla. She just never listens to me. Not that I cared one way or the other. My friend’s email had me thinking about the next Madeley project and, as Judy stirred her slowly thickening oats, I made slowly thickening plans which I believe will help me reach that next stage of my career.

‘Well, that’s it,’ I said half an hour later. By then, Judy had finished her porridge and was spooning out a carton of yoghurt. ‘Judy, you’ve worried too long about my next job but I think you can worry no more. I’ve devised a stratagem.’

‘How’s that different to a strategy?’ she asked.

‘It sounds more impressive, to be sure,’ I answered, not quite knowing the difference. ‘And it also contains the word “gem”, which is exactly what my plan happens to be. It’s a gem of cunning.’

‘It doesn’t involve a pyramid scheme, does it Richard? You know you’ve been warned about those...’

‘Not pyramids,’ I said. ‘But it does involve Arab businessmen.’

‘Oh god,’ muttered Judy. I think she might well have discovered that her yoghurt was raspberry when she’d been expecting strawberry.

‘The sight of that camel made the think. Why don’t I sell myself to a rich oil sheik? A million quid up front and they get 100% profit from my next five books. They’d be happy, I’d be happy, and the world would be better off.’

‘Stunning,’ said Judy without much enthusiasm. I can only assume that her raspberry yoghurt was not even a good raspberry yoghurt.

‘It’s clearly the best way forward, Jude,’ I said. ‘I sell myself in exchange for Middle Eastern oil money and I only have to promise to write nothing that might offend them. No jokes about shaking the end of my pipeline. Things of that dubious nature. No more remarks about camels...’

‘It’s a brilliant idea,’ sighed Judy as she stood up and despatched her yogurt to the bin. ‘But if you need me, I’ll be lying down.’

‘Lie away, my temptress of the desert,’ I said as I opened a new Word document and began composing my letter to the Sultan of Dubai.

‘Dear Sultan,’ it began.

I assume you can guess the rest...