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A Career In Pictures - Guylian Ndumbu Nsungu


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On 10/05/2013 at 15:40, US_Owl said:

Well, it's been far too long, my apologies for the lack of well-researched and 100% true factual articles, but here is the latest at long last :-)

 

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Wednesday Legend - Guylian Ndumbu-Nsungu

 

 

In the late 1990’s Sheffield Wednesday were the greatest football club in the world.

 

The club had won back to back Premier League titles in 1996 and 1997, built on the solid foundations of Andy Booth’s spectacular goals, Scott Oakes’ midfield wizardry and the no-nonsense hard work and genital-severingly hard tackling of Petter Rudi. An invitation to take part in the 1998 World Cup was accepted by manager David Pleat, universally lauded as the greatest coach in the history of organised sport. The Owls came second, defeated in the Final by Germany after goals from Gruber and von Klinkerhoffen.

 

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Rudi - Hard B*stard

 

However, as the 1998-99 season began, problems of an unprecedented nature rocked the club. Wednesday’s lauded stars were aging – Booth was already 43 by the time the new season came around, and their grip on the country’s top prize was in danger of slipping. Rather than replace the players with new signings, a success crazed Pleat came up with a dastardly plan. Andy Hinchcliffe’s legs had recently exploded again, and Pleat could not face the thought of having to play a frail Iain Nolan in the left back berth, a man who was well into his late 60’s.

 

“It was a simple idea really” Pleat sobbed in a recent interview. “We had loads of youth players who were fit as fiddles, really buff and muscular and lovely. Then we had Hinch, brain of a football genius and legs like knackered old curly wurlys. A bit of swapping wouldn’t harm, surely?”

 

Using a pair of scissors, a stapler, and loads of old towels that his dog used to lie on in the back of his Datsun Cherry, Pleat transferred Hinchcliffe’s brain into the fresh, young body of academy trainee Jon Beswetherick. It was a 104% success.

 

“Jon immediately became the best left back in the world” said an awestruck Steve Chettle, who was England’s captain at the time. “I remember Stewy Pearce watching him once and crying like a bullied infant. He knew he would never play for England again. A few days later he turned up at training in a yellow floral dress, miserable as sin and drinking his own wee wee out of an old milk bottle. We knew he was finished then.” Pearce was later led into the carpark, and mercilessly executed by fellow Forest stalwart Iain Woan; a single bullet to the back of the head.

 

The craze soon took off, and within weeks teams up and down the country were setting up their own training ground surgeries. “We had a bit of a problem though” said Christian Gross, a staunch advocate of the innovation. “Our first transplant was with Gary Mabbutt – his knees were as much use as a hooker’s face after you’ve set fire to it and stomped it out. We swapped his brain into Sol Campbell’s body, and it worked perfectly. What to do with the leftover bits of Mabbutt though? Justin Edinburgh offered to eat him. I sent him home for the day.”

 

From this innovation, a macabre sideline soon emerged. Companies were set up to collect the old parts from clubs, and those in turn were recycled to lower division clubs who couldn’t afford scissors and staplers and sh*tty old towels to do the procedures themselves.

 

“I had dozens of bits, all in the back of a trailer that I used to drive around the grounds” said Ron Atkinson, the owner of the Footballer’s Spare Parts Association, one such company who recycled footballers to the highest bidder. “We’d rock up at the ground and take the old, sh*tty ones for refurbishment, and sell on any one’s we’d managed to get working again. Players would limp out and buy a new foot, and their careers were saved. I remember selling John Fashanu’s old left leg to Guy Branston down at Rotherham – that raised a few eyebrows. In the end we had to introduce a few restrictions though. Arjan de Zeeuw bought 17 tailes in 3 weeks, claimed he kept wearing them all out. Apparently Attllio Lombardo found them all in his locker with smiley faces drawn on the jappers and little bow ties on.” De Zeeuw was executed shortly after behind a skip by team-mate Stuart Ripley, before his remains were loaded onto Atkinson’s meat wagon.

 

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Dejected: A miserable Arjan de Zeeuw realizes that he has been rumbled

 

The footballer body parts business was booming, and Wednesday continued as pioneers both on and off the pitch. A third successive title in 1999 came relatively easy, with the brain of Andy-Booth inspiring Danny Reet’s body to a record 63 goals in the full season. However, Pleat was not happy. He had dreams of a super-project, the ultimate footballer, and soon involved Atkinson in his maniacal schemes. Atkinson’s assistant at the time in the business was ex-Villa legend Shaun Teale. “I remember the night that I knew something was wrong” he wheezed “I was locking up the meat fridges for the night and saw Big Ron walking towards me with Pleat. They had a wheelbarrow full of arms and legs. Nothing unusual, but then I saw Paul Furlong’s old face peering up out of the barrow as they walked past. The only head we had ever sold was when Ron had charged Barry Venison a tenner for me to nosh him off. Something was awry.”

 

Pleat and Atkinson set about constructing the greatest footballer of all time. Using exclusively black body parts (“We didn’t want him looking like a F*cking chessboard” Pleat said at Prime Minister’s Question Time in 2003) they achieved their goal.

 

“We had some great stuff to pick from, stocks were very high at the time” Atkinson screamed “We used Dwight Yorkes old left leg, and paired it up with Les Ferdinand’s right. We managed to get our hands on Daniel Amokachi’s torso, stuffed big Paul Furlong’s head on the top, and hey presto, it was finished, the cream of the crop. We couldn’t care less about the arms, so we stuck Earl Barrett’s on there, just for a laugh.” Adding the brain of 78 year old Mark Bright to the mix, and the perfect footballer was born.

 

All he needed was a name, and the arguments began. Teale had watched the whole thing and remembers the furious conversations between the two creators. “They used to scream at each other, like I remember Mummy and Daddy screaming when Mummy had come home early from bingo and found Daddy and Uncle Charlie from next door having a shower together playing with those sausages. They wanted to call him “Chocolate Lumpy-Bumpy” – Atkinson said it was fine to call him that and no-one would mind. Pleat said it was ridiculous. He wanted an exotic name”

 

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Bestest Ever: Celebrating another easy hat-trick, this time powered by the brain of Marco Boogers.

 

He two settled on Guylian Ndumbu-Nsungu (Which, obviously, means Chocolate Lumpy-Bumpy in French, so both creators got their wish) and a legend was born. He made his debut for Wednesday against London club Birmingham City, scoring 4 times in the first half. However, at half time, a problem arose when Pleat realised that Bright’s brain has run out of energy. Ndumbu-Nsungu was substituted, and from then on cool boxes of fresh brains were kept for instant transplant in the changing rooms.

 

Ndumbu Nsungu played a further 30 games that season, scoring 134 goals (none of them penalties) and made his England debut in a friendly against North Korea, a 7-6 defeat in which Ndumbu-Nsungu scored a first half hat-trick (Fellow Wednesday icon Chris Marsden netted all of North Korea’s goals) Again however, at half time, the brain swap was due.

 

“I had packed Guylian off with Mike Newell’s brain in his head, and a small He-Man lunchbox with Dennis Bergkamp’s in for the half time swap. Unfortunately, Ron had got the boxes mixed up, and he took Bergkamp’s brain for his lunch, and instead Guylian received a scotch egg for a brain. Glenn Hoddle didn’t even notice as he swapped them over at half time. It was disastrous. As far as I know, Ron ate Dennis Bergkamp’s brain without batting an eyelid.”

 

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England's Finest: Ndumbu-Nsungu makes his one and only appearance for England.

 

Ndumbu Nsungu’s career was over. Despite removing the scotch egg, the crumbs would never quite clean out, and any brain put in there would immediately lose all footballing ability. Having burned so brightly, he slid miserably down the leagues, ending up eventually at the worst possible destination for any professional footballer  -Bramall Lane. Now powered with David Graham’s brain wrapped in clingfilm, he played a full season there in 2004, touching the ball only 11 times in the whole season, and scoring no goals. He won the Player of the Year award and recently was honoured with a statue outside the ground.

 

The footballer recycling business collapsed -Pleat and Atkinson were driven into hiding once their crimes were unveiled, and as far I know now they live in a flat above a newsagent together, eating Party Rings and Hula Hoops, swapping Pokemon cards and watching old recordings of Steve Irwin programmes.

 

After retiring, Ndumbu-Nsungu was awarded a military rank of Colonel in the French army, and he now stands guard at Paris zoo, shooting sh*tty little kids stone dead and feeding them to the crocodiles whenever he can be bothered.

 

Brave ex-Sheffield Wednesday warrior, we salute you!



PLEASE PELASE PLEASE DO MORE OF THESE
 

lol

 


 


Owlstalk Shop

 

 

 

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2 minutes ago, US_Owl said:

 

 

I am officially on it

Brilliant - Best posts on here by an absolute mile. I was only asking about these threads in another post the other day

 

Delighted to here there will be more. 

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