[Brassy 50s light music plays. We see archive black-and-white shots of men in flat caps and striped scarves spinning rattles round and cheering on footballers dressed in long baggy shorts, moving jerkily as they kick a sodden leather ball about a rain-soaked ground. Behind the “Roy Of The Rovers” credits, a man with bad teeth scruffs his whippet’s head and makes a thumbs up at the camera. We hear a bright, sing-song, received pronunciation voiceover.]

VO: At the troubled Premiership club’s secret training camp, Melchester Rovers’ talented and pathologically committed midfielder Roy “Chopper” Overkeen expresses his disappointment with lavishly remunerated and unfortunately-coiffed defender Rio Franzferdinand.

ROY: Yer f***in’ lazy f***in’ chuffbreather. What kind of f***in’ tackle was that? You’re a useless f***in’ bag’o’s****. Where’s your f***in’ commitment, yer f***in ladyboy?

[RIO makes a face like a dreadlocked ferret emerging from a rabbit hole without a square meal. Whether this is in reaction to ROY’s criticism or just a background state is another question.]

VO: But widely respected Melchester coach and horse-lover Sir Alfred Furlong thinks Roy has gone too far this time.

ALFRED: Yoos nae heargh nae snear whurgh snoo ynear shnea!

SUBTITLES: That’s quite enough of that kind of language, young man!

ROY: Who the f*** do yer think yer are, yer f***in red-faced c***in’ baboon. Yer f***in’ swan around here like yer f***in run the place yer jumped up f***er.

ALFRED: I doos rern the plaisch, yer cheeky shnurghn fernshn yrnr! Grn f**k rf baik ter Bogland, Paddy!

SUBTITLES: I do run the place, you insolent pup. Your contract is terminated forthwith.

ROY: Oh f***.