New Hull manager John Kennedy has bolstered his backroom staff today with the appointment of Ligue 1 strugglers AJ Auxerre’s Peter Crouch as his assistant. Crouch has reportedly been unsettled for a while in France and has been growing disenchanted at the club under the wilting powers of struggling L’AJA and France manager WT Franco.
When approached by the BBC, Kennedy said “I’m delighted to be bringing Crouchie on board. He’s well loved in England and has a massive amount of experience at the very top level of English football, which will be invaluable both for me and for Hull City.”
Crouch also brings a keen eye for talent to the KC Stadium, having reportedly played a huge role in bringing the likes of fellow Englishman Phil Foden to his former club, who’s gone on to become a key signing.
“Can I have a word, Boss?” Asks Crouch, popping his head around my office door.
“I think the Beeb’s just done that for you, mate.” I reply coldly, looking up from my monitor. He grimaces.
“Sorry.” He mutters. “Got in as fast as I could.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are, Peter?” I’m aware that I’m staring and probably starting to go red in the face. “If you want to fuck off home then fuck off home, but unsettled? Disenchanted? A huge role in bringing Foden to Auxerre? My best defender and 2 best strikers are crocked heading into a crucial run in our relegation scrap and you’re busy spreading this bullshit to the BBC?”
“It’s not bullshit.” He says, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. “I told you I wanted to go home. We could have gone together! I told you to join Hull!”
“Oh, bollocks to Hull City!” I shout, slamming my fists on the desk as I get to my feet. “I turned that interview down because I’ve got a fucking job to do! Keeping this club in Ligue 1! You’re meant to be my assistant, so fucking assist me!”
“That’s not my job anymore.” He replies quietly. A heavy silence follows.
“Then get out.” I reply quietly. “And post your resignation for France by the end of the day.” I sit back down and pretend to busy myself with a few nearby sheets of miscellaneous paper. I see movement in the periphery of my vision and then hear the sound of a door closing. I look back up to an empty office.
A defender, 2 strikers and now my right hand man. Who the fuck next.