Daniel Levy; Tottenham Chairman. Quantum Leaper. Part 2.

Maybe the next leap will be the leap home. Editors notes in Italics

Our hero finds himself surrounded by some chaps wearing loose fitting clothing, carrying those bendy swords like out of Aladdin and doing that lalalala sound which is very worrying and dramatic.

‘’Not again’’ says Daniel, looking into camera, shrugging his shoulders and making a Stan Laurel face.

‘’We take you to Sheikh Mansour’’

Credits roll showing Daniel being hoisted onto a camel *Producer Amos Leotard* and being led to a really Arabian looking Taj Mahal type castle in the middle of the desert *Executive Producer Shovels O’Toole* then Daniel is thrust before a ‘proper robed up’ Asian bloke. *Directed by Kool Poon*

‘’So Mr Levy. I must say I am honoured to meet such a master negotiator. In fact, I saw @YidLedge say the other day that you were a genius… but then @SpursBwoi1882 says you’re a tight fisted, brainless moron intent on raping Tottenham of all its assets, only satisfied when you see the Spurs playing Sunday league on Hackney Marshes. So, Mr Levy, which is it?’’

‘’Would it suffice to say that I’m just trying to do what I get paid to do?’’ Retorts Daniel, the constant Leaping is currently playing merry hell with his glands. He also wonders where Andre is and looks around nervously.

‘’NO! There must be only extremes. Do you not know how this works? Anyway, do you have that Adebayor contract drawn up yet?’’ Mansour is rather impatient at this point. He is eager to get back to his favourite hobby of backcombing horse hair and drinking oil.

Daniel produces a document entitled ‘OMFG. Can you imagine if he actually signs this?!’ One of Mansours hooded servants takes the contract from Daniels hand and delivers it to Mansour who is sitting on a throne made from gold and chipmunks. Mansour impatiently signs it, but just as he’s about to hand it back…

‘’What’s this?! Manchester City continue to pay £80k a week, even though he’s a Tottenham player! This is an outrage’’

Points contract back at Levy

‘’Guards, seize him!’’

In a flash, the hooded servant takes off his head scarf to reveal Andre Villas Boas who has been here the whole time. He gives the Sheikh a withering look and says in his graveley voice (sort of like Batman if he’d bothered to munch some ‘Tunes’) :

‘’I’ll take that. Fax very much’’ Alluding to Tottenham’s hilarious use of fax machines in transfers despite it being 2012.

The Sheikh is lost in his dark, brooding eyes and hands over the contract without a moment’s hesitation. Meanwhile, Daniels legendary athleticism comes into play again as he leaps out of the way of the grasping guards onto an inappropriately large child, using him as a springboard to join Andre by the Chipmunk throne.

‘’ That Fax line was a bit shit, but they’re getting better. You got that signed contract?’’ Daniel asks, his eyes scouring the room as approximately seven thousand guards close in on he and his sidekicks elevated platform of relative safety.

‘’Yep, all good, just teleporting it off to The Lodge, they can finally announce the Ade deal’’

‘’Thank fuck for that’’ (Necessary swearing? Yes. This is a pressure cooker situation and Daniel is a lithe, powerful man in need of expressing extremes of emotion. I will fight tooth and nail to keep that ‘fuck’ in the final edit). ‘’Never thought I’d say this but when are we leaping?’’

‘’Good news, we’re off to the Ukraine in 8 seconds. @AgentFabricate has us there discussing  a deal for Willian’’

‘’You mean William?’’

‘’No, it’s Willian. He’s Brazilian’’

‘’Sure he’s not BraziliaM? Hahaha. Top  bant’s Andre. Top bloody bant’s. Let’s do one.’’

Guards all pounce to where Daniel and Andre are standing, but the light shards have already appeared, and the guards end up in a heap on the floor where our heroes once stood.

*Kaleidoscopic whoosh through the universe*

Daniel lands on his backside on an immaculately manicured lawn.

‘’Where am I now?’’ Questions Daniel forlornly. The camera pans out to reveal he has landed underneath a ‘Welcome To Glorious Donbass Arena. Home of Masterful Shakhtar Donetsk (check that we can replace that sign with all the funny Russian writing on it with an English one).

Credits roll. Daniel is dusted off by a kindly Ukrainian wearing an ‘I *heart* Socialism’ t-shirt *Producer Brenda Cream* and led up to the Shakhtar corridors of power *Executive Producer Flaps Piping* The kindly Ukrainian shows Daniel to the directors bathroom as he’s dying for a piss, and then kindly Ukrainian phones his local despotic councillor to donate all of his life savings to build a crocodile-sized bookcase for his local school to underline how much he loves education/crocodiles/socialism *Director Swastika Stool*

Daniel unzips, a moment of calm at last for the leaping Tottenham director.

‘’Ur-in(e) for some work here boss’’ Says Andre, appearing from one of the marbled cubicles. Check appropriateness of piss gag, although, to be fair, we’re in a men’s toilet, there must be at least one or people are just going to switch over and look for them elsewhere.

‘’Wheeeeeeey, nice one Andre. They’re getting better’’ says Daniel, his mood elevated with every pube rinsed away from the backboard. (Check approximately how pubic each Ukrainian is to ensure this would tally up)

‘’According to twitter, many clubs have tried to prize Willian away from Shakhtar. None have succeeded’’ says Andre; nervously but handsomely.

‘’None have been Daniel Levy; Tottenham Chairman, Quantum Leaper’’ Just to anchor back to the programme title ‘’and besides, I’ve never heard of this guy. The itk’s have only been talking about him for a couple of days. It’s not like Ade or Modric. This one’s a wildcard, so let’s spring a surprise’’

*Cuts to Shakhtar boardroom with 5 men who all look like Ivan Drago wearing Shevchenko hats*

‘’So chaps, what are you after for your boy?’’ Enquires Daniel.

‘’Twenty million British pounds’’ Insert extra borderline xenophobic typical Eastern block dialogue.

‘’For a lad who can’t even spell his own name? I’ll give you Jenas, a Ford Capri and half a pot of tiger balm. Take it or leave it you slaaaaaaaaaaaags’’

Andre shakes his head and worries that the leaping is causing some serious brain malfunctions. He holds the twitter synched handlink up and accesses the brain scanning function, revealing that Daniel has unfortunately channelled Danny Dyer and his knowledge of Ukrainian ‘firms’. This could spell disaster. Meanwhile the Shev-hatted board members begin to bristle at Daniels tone and begin to crack their knuckles.

‘’Will you excuse us momentarily, gentlemen’’ Says Andre, grabbing Daniels arm and dragging him out of the boardroom.

Out in the hallway, Andre shouts ‘’GET A GRIP’’ really dramatically

‘’Leave it aaaaahhhhttttt saaahhhhnnnn’’ Replies Daniel

In a furious flurry of violence, Andre slaps Daniel upside the chops, in a manner only appropriate between the very best of friends. This goes to show that despite a bit of bickering every now and again, they really are as close as 2 frogs in a bag.

‘’Thanks Andre, don’t know what came over me’’ Says Daniel, apologetically, but in a way where he knows that Andre doesn’t really need an apology because they’re such great mates and it doesn’t matter

‘’That’s ok Dan, it’s this constant leaping. It’s whomping up your thought box. Besides, we’re such great mates, it doesn’t matter’’ Replies Andre, confirming the tone of Daniels previous line of dialogue.

‘’Let’s get out of here. We need to get this Damiao deal finalised before anything else anyway’’

‘’Well that’s a bit of luck, @AgentOracle has you haggling a fee in 3, 2, 1…’’

*Kaleidoscopic whoosh through the universe*

To be continued...