Scene: A Pub in Welly somewhere, Saturday evening.

George Best (GB) "Oy, did you spill my pint?"
A Turtle (AT) "Er, no, wasn't it empty already?"
(GB) "Ah, so it is. Now how did that happen?"
(AT) "Perhaps you drank it all."
(GB) "Surely not. I seldom touch the stuff."
(AT) "But there's Guinness froth on your top lip."
(GB) "Is there bejesus?"
(AT) "There is, so you can hardly deny that you drank that pint."
(GB) "I just can't imagine it. Me mother, God rest her sole, would be mortified."
(AT) "So was it Guinness you were drinking?"
(GB) "You’re a true gentleman. And get one for yourself while you're up there."
(AT) "Here you go then, ya crafty bastard. Say, now listen, if you had a beard you'd be a dead ringer for George Best, you know that?"
(GB) "Well I should bloody well hope so. Because I am none other."
(AT) "Fuck off! The George Best, in a pub in Wellington. You expect me to believe that."
(GB) "The very same."
(AT) "What then, are you doing here?"
(GB) "Well, I was in Las Vegas, and Russell Crowe asked me over to Sydney for a pint. So I was on my way, but half way through the flight I got my hand caught in a piece of airplane equipment, and they had to land in Auckland to let me off."
(AT) "What piece of equipment?"
(GB) "I didn't catch her name, Talula or some such."
(AT) "So you were in Auckland. Why come down here?"
(GB) "The bar at the airport closed, so I got into a cab. The driver didn't seem to speak English, so it all got a bit confused. I told him to take me to the nearest pub. Nice chap though, played for East Germany in the 60's."
(AT) "And you really are The George Best? What happened to the beard?"
(GB) "I thought "new liver, new look", so got cleaned up."
(AT) "How is that new liver going then? It must be safe to drink again."
(GB) "Couldn't be sure, to be honest, but I'll never know if I don't try. Great thing this medical science - you rip the shite out of one bit of your body, and they just replace it. Brilliant. If I wreck this one from the odd tipple, I'll just get another."
(AT) "I play a bit of footy myself you know."
(GB) "Is that a fact? Always glad to meet a fellow player. Who for?"
(AT) "The Fabulous Turtles."
(GB) "Never heard of them, but a good name. I always thought United could have done with a name change. My pick would have been "The Red Nob Devils". I once told the Liverpool Chairman he should rename his team "Cunts Ahoy", but the stuck-up prick hung up on me."
(AT) "Bastard."
(GB) "So how did the Turtles get on today?"
(AT) "One-all draw."
(GB) "Get another pint in and tell me all about it."
(AT) "OK. Back in a minute."
(GB) "Hello love. Have you got any Irish in ya?"
(AT) "Here we go. Where was I? Ah yes, a draw."
(GB) "Did I ever tell you about a draw we got at West Ham in '71. We were one down with 2 minutes to go, and I said to the lads "fuck this, give me the ball". So I got it just inside our own half, and set off. Bobby Moore dived in and I skinned him, blew him a kiss as I went past, and then......"
(AT) ".....yes, yes, very interesting I'm sure, but about the Turtles. As you know it was a beautiful day today, and quite warm for this time of year."
(GB) "Was it? I've been in here for most of it."
(AT) "Yes. So Seatoun Park was a picture, and the playing surface as good as ever. When we went in to get changed before the game, the padded table in the middle of the changing room drew the usual comments about the story of you shagging that model in front of the team in the changing rooms at Old Trafford before a game one day."
(GB) "Ah yes, she was a great lass that one."
(AT) "So it was true then?"
(GB) "Sure it was. Did it for a bet. Scored a hundred quid for that one. First time I ever got paid to fuck. It was normally the other way around. Scored a hat-trick that day too. Highly recommend it. And did you hear about when Britt Ekland and Twiggy played pony rides with....."
(AT) "....maybe later George. Anyway, we started slowly, and had to survive quite a rush from Seatoun, who had a lot of good ball-players, particularly out wide. We managed to hold on, thanks to good defence from Tel, Si and the rest. After about ten minutes, the initial puff of the oppo died down, and we started to get forward a bit. Chris and Murray in the middle made some good forward runs, and Tel was getting forward as well. Tel's performance was certainly under the microscope today, and his wife and extended family had turned up to watch, as well as, and this was a rather odd, his shaved and oiled training partners. Lance and Massimo up front held up the ball well, and it was all starting to look quite good in fact. At about the fifteen-minute mark Lance got the ball, held it up, and passed out to Murray, approaching up on the right. One touch to control, then pinged it from 20 yards. Keeper got a couple of fingers to it, but not enough to stop it going in the top corner. By far our best goal of the season, in fact the only goal so far with any merit at all really."
(GB) "Sounds a beauty. Reminds me of one I got at the San Siro in '68. Bobby Charlton had gone off injured, and we were struggling. I had a wicked hangover as well, having spent the previous night with Miss Milan..."
(AT) "...anyway, as I was saying, a cracker goal. The type you'd expect from a player who has a custom-made bag for his shin-pads. The rolling subs started after that, as the heat took its toll. Somehow, in the confusion, PK ended up at left half. He looked like an exuberant escaped convict, having gained freedom from the back four, and sprinted down the wing with gay abandon. His runs, serviced by Phildo, provided several telling crosses, the last of which struck a defenders arm. PK's initial pleading went unrewarded, but he continued to appeal vigorously. So vigorously, in fact, that he burst a blood vessel in his arm and had to be helped off."
(GB) "Classic stuff. I don't have a fucken clue who these people are, but they sound like a comedy act. Not unlike Spurs. They really are shite. I'd get rid of....."
(AT) "....with PK off, Stevie adopted the left wing, and soon enough put in a cross that gave Wal a golden chance to extend the lead. The skipper, burdened with the worries of leadership, hit wide and high in a pre-occupied fashion. Despite that, we were good for our half-time lead, having played a lot of good, controlled footy, especially through the middle by Weasel, Chris, Tel and Murray."
(GB) "Did you see the tits on her? I'd better go introduce myself."
(AT) "In a minute George. The second half began with a rush from the oppo again, as they pushed forward at a high tempo. We managed to hang on, and restrict their attempts to long range, none of which troubled Snouter. The best chance for them came when Dodger stretched (if you can call it that) to intercept a hopeful through ball, and one of their fat old attackers was away. Fearing a coronary, he shot feebly, way too early, a not uncommon complaint for someone that old."
(GB) "No complaints in that area for me yet."
(AT) "Good. Anyway, we were holding, and again started to get the better of the game, playing a lot of controlled stuff up through the middle, especially via Phildo and Weasel out on the flanks. Phildo had skipped a one-year-old's birthday party to play, and was indeed playing like a man one year younger than what he actually was, anticipating tackles, and taking the ball up like a 40 year old. We created a few half chances, mainly through Weasel and Wal, but the finishing was lacking, as it has been all season."
(GB) "I know the feeling well, my old mate. '68 was a shocker for me. Missed a million chances. Mind you, I was patron of the Glenfiddich Appreciation society that year, and..."
(AT) "...never mind that now. With about 15 to go, we started to slow down, the effort of the play taking it's toll. Murray, Chris and Weasel were spent, and only Wal and Si had anything left for forward surges. Finally one of the oppo long shots went in, a 25 yarder in off the cross bar, almost as good as Murray's goal. Now it was a case of holding on. Several corners caused problems for us, none more so than the one that Snouter flapped at and missed. Stevie was stationed on the far post, and it hit his head to safety. With only a few minutes to go, a dubious free-kick was conceded by Chris just outside the box. Dodge threw his toys at Chris, a rather silly thing to do because Chris is way too old and respectable to play with the toys that Dodger uses. Luckily the oppo stuffed up the free kick, and the last few minutes ticked by quietly."
(GB) "Thank fuck for that. My glass is empty."
(AT) "Hang on. Here is what captain Wal had to say immediately after the game - "It was a hard-fought draw, but I'm sure there'll be an inquiry into the lack of strike force (sic). However, if Snouter had saved that piece-of-cake goal, we wouldn't be staring at a draw. So I blame Snouter. PK, tells us about your throbbing vein...."."
(GB) "Not enough cliches. Now, about that pint."
(AT) "Sorry George, I've got to go."
(GB) "Where?"
(AT) "I've got to collect the wife from the restaurant next door, and get home to let the baby-sitter go. She's only 17, and needs to be home by 11."
(GB) "What kind of a place is this? Does nobody drink properly in New Zealand? I've half a mind to bog off over to Sydney and hook up with that homo, Crowe."
(AT) "Well, if you do stay in town, how about a game of footy for the Turtles next week? 2:30 at Ben Burn."
(GB) "I might just do that. Itching to kick a ball again. And they do serve a good Guinness here."
(AT) "Good. Well, I'll swing by here and pick you up next Saturday morning then?"
(GB) "Ah sure, why not."
(AT) "OK, seeya George."
(GB) "Another pint here, gorgeous, and might I say that's a lovely little arse you've got there."