A PLUSH HOTEL SUITE, SOMEWHERE IN ENGLAND…

CHIEF EXEC:
Well, Mr Di Matteo, Mr Keretsky, the owner, thinks you’re the man to take us into the Champions’ League. The job’s yours.

DI MATTEO:
Grazie, grazie! I won’t let you down. Call me Roberto.

CHIEF EXEC:
Now, if you’d just come outside with me, I’ll brief the waiting press, and we can unveil Bagthorpe Rovers’ new manager.

HIS MOBILE RINGS.

CHIEF EXEC:
It’s Mr Keretsky. He’ll want to join in the press conference. Hello? Oh! I see. Yes, Mr Keretsky. Goodbye. (BEAT) Roberto, I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.

DI MATTEO:
What?

CHIEF EXEC:
You’ve lost the dressing room.

DI MATTEO:
I haven’t even met the players.

CHIEF EXEC:
Exactly. They say you’re too aloof. And 8,000 fans have joined the Facebook group “Roberto Out: Sack The Pasta-eating Idiot.”

DI MATTEO:
But I haven’t done anything.

CHIEF EXEC:
I should coco. You haven’t won a single game since you’ve been in charge. Bagthorpe Rovers’ fans expect success. Frankly, you make me sick. Now take your six million quid and bugger off.

DI MATTEO STORMS OFF.

CHIEF EXEC:
Carolyn, send in the next one. I believe it’s a Mister Redknapp.

ENDS.