Gordon is standing between the goalposts...watching the ball intently. His eyes dart back and forth, and suddenly it appears that the play is in his half. He shuffles to one side of the goal, then the other...his eyes never leaving the ball. But the ball goes out of play and he straightens up. He walks over to the right-hand post and leans on it, perhaps finding something green and gooey there to play with.

FAN : (OOV) OI!

Gordon glances in the direction of the voice without much interest, then returns his attention to the game.

FAN : (OOV) OI, GORDON!

Gordon ignores him.

FAN : Bloody hell, you're not very polite, are you? It's people like me what pay your wages, son!

Gordon seems incredibly engrossed in the play at the opposite end of the pitch.

FAN : (OOV) You know, you need to lose a bit of weight. You look like a bleedin' weeble! You remember that advert? "Weebles wobble but they don't fall down"? That's you, mate. What's up, too many beers at the weekend or too little nookie last night?

Gordon is becoming irritated but manages to control himself.

FAN : (OOV) I've been coming here all me life, and when they spent £2,000,000 on you, they were throwing their money away. Mind you, you block the whole goal with your gut. You should cut down on your pork pies and chips...do a bit of running...do some goalkeeping while you're at it!

Gordon's lips are narrowing into a thin white line.

FAN : (OOV) Mind you, I've seen bigger lads that you on the field...but not much bigger!

GORDON : WILL YOU SMEG OFF?!

As Gordon turns to address the fan, the ball flies into the net. Gordon turns around and stares in disbelief.

FAN : (OOV) See, if you'd been concentrating you'd have seen that coming!

Gordon silently retrieves the ball from the back of the net and throws it into the audience.

FAN : (OOV) My dog could've saved that, and he's pigging blind!

Silence.

FAN : (OOV) Anyway, like I was saying, I used to play with a lot of big lads on the field. Not anything major, more Bradshaw's Granary Loaf league. Me dream was always to play for City. Now that you're on the team I realize how easy it would've been. I mean, they let anyone into this team nowadays. My old dad used to say that City were the best team in England. Look at us now...middle of Division 1! All thanks to you. I come here every week. Rain, shine, snow or hail, I'm here queing up with me programme in me hand and me scarf and rattle. And what for? To see eleven useless bleeders knock a ball round a pitch and do smeg all in the meantime. What's your record this season, eh? 28 goals past you, and we're only on the third bleedin game! I reckon Helen Keller would make a better goalie than you!

GORDON : LOOK, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WILL YOU -

The ball once again flies into the back of the net whilst Gordon's back is turned. He turns around and lets out a cry of despair. He picks up the ball and throws it into the audience.

FAN : (OOV) Two-nil down. You're not doing very well, are you?

GORDON : Well, you're no help, are you???

FAN : (OOV) Me? I'm just your ordinary fan with his meat pie and bovril at half time.

Gordon sighs and tries to concentrate on the game.

Silence.

FAN : (OOV) You really should concentrate on the game more. That's why United win so much. Ferguson tells them he wants 100% complete concentration on the field or they don't get their Barbie dolls in their christmas stocking. You lot should have that attitude. But look at you! Sloppy defence, crap midfield, mediocre attack and to top it all, a goalie who can't keep his mind on the smegging game! I wonder why I watch you at all.

GORDON : Then go and watch United then!

FAN : (OOV) Nah! I love coming here. It's comic relief after a hard week's work.

Silence

FAN : (OOV) What's your missus like in bed, then?

Gordon can't take it any more.

GORDON : LOOK, I'M GONNA -

Yet again, the opposing team sends the ball whizzing past the back of Gordon's head.

FAN : (OOV) Oh, dear...Looks like this game's over now! Three-nil. Jesus Christ! Oh well, see you next week. Hee hee hee hee hee....

The lights go down as Gordon clenches his fists and starts towards the fan.