Redknapp's Laboratory

Harry: Mwa ha ha ha haaaa! I have done it Jamie, I have worked out how to create the perfect player. Come, Jamie, to the laboratory.

Jamie: Yes dad.

Harry: How many times have I told you, when I'm in mad scientist mode refer to me as master. And lisp more.

Jamie: Yeth marthter.

Harry: That's better. You could try hunching your back more though. Now to create the perfect footballer I have had to scavenge graveyards to get the perfect body parts. I warn you the resulting player will be a grotesque, hideous beast.

Jamie: You're creating him in your own image then, marthter?

Harry: Yes. No, wait. Don't be so cheeky.

Jamie: Thorry marthter.

Harry: Now before I can bring my composite footballer to life first I must brew the essence of footballing genius. Pass me the contents of that jar marked 'perfect player juice'.

Jamie: I can't get the perfect player juith out, Marthter.

Harry: Tap it up, Jamie. Tap it up.

Jamie: It'th coming now, Marthter. Where do you want it?

Harry: Pour it in to this test tube. Now all I need is to shake it up. Where's one of those stopper things you put in the top of the tube?

Jamie: Do you mean a bu-

Harry: Don't say that word!

Jamie: What? Bun-

Harry: Shh! You know we don't use the b word here Jamie, now where are those stoppers?

Jamie: Over in thith nondescript brown paper bag marthter.

Harry: Thank you Jamie. Now to pour it in to the player's mouth. Mwa ha haa haaa haaaa! It's working, it's alive!

Jamie: It lookth like Darren Bent, marthter.

Harry: Bother. I'll just go and buy Robbie Keane back.