“Ipswich Town! Come in, do come in!” The Championship says excitedly, getting up from his desk to give you a firm handshake. “Hopefully you’re not so eager to leave us this time! How long have you got left at the old place, a few weeks?” You nod. There’s a knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, in walks Norwich - a sickly and short man with wet eyes. He looks drunk, again. Normally this means an attempted, slurred motivational message. You recall a post-season drinks do in 2007 where he’d drunkenly took you to one side and whispered “what does it mean to actually win a trophy? Like, a proper trophy?” On seeing you now, Norwich mutters something and walks out. “Looking forward to pitting your wits against him next year? Been a long time since you’ve one-upped him though, hasn’t it?” The Championship says with a sly grin. “Oh think how much fun it'll be with me! No psycho boss. No entitled toffs – well, apart from Oxford and QPR. And you’ll be one of the richer ones, makes a change eh?” You go to say something, but the Championship is on a roll now. “No CCTV cameras watching your every move. No doomed matches against stated-owned competition!” After your meeting, the Championship walks you outside the building. There’s a commotion as paramedics rush a stretcher-bound person into the back of an ambulance. The Championship is chuckling nervously. You watch as the ambulance accelerates away, sirens wailing. A discarded Luton scarf lies forgotten, near where the ambulance was parked. “Not sure what that was all about.” The Championship says sheepishly, a shark-like smile creeping across his face. “I hope that person is okay.” 2-1 Town win.
You are in the wrong line of business Nuggets, few fans I have met are in the creative performing arts! Our pride and positivity continue, gotta be a win. 3-1 Town.
Haha - as somebody who works in bid management and writing, I am used to 'creative' writing for some bids
