Football Crazy by Terry Ravenscroft, Ravenscroft

hadn't got him any nearer to acquiring a mistress, and to this end he had since made two further attempts. The first of them had ended almost as soon as it had begun when, after asking the girl sat on her own at the bar of the Bees Knees if he could buy her a drink, and receiving a positive reply, he had thought it prudent, to ensure that he didn't make the same mistake twice, to ask her if she was a prostitute. She wasn't, as the ringing in his ears brought about by her fetching him one round the head with her handbag very soon attested.
    The second attempt had been at a school crossing with a lollipop lady, but progress had been slow as she'd kept interrupting his chat up line by walking out into the middle of the road to stop the traffic. Eventually he'd got fed up and wandered off, as for some unknown reason she hadn't shown much interest in him even when she was back on the pavement waiting for the next load of kids to arrive.
    In fact, although he didn't know it, and would have been the last person to suspect it, much less admit it, Donny wasn't very good with women. But in his defence he had never had to be. He had married his first and only girlfriend, Tracey Michelle, when he was eighteen and she was a year younger.
    In those days he had been a promising young professional footballer and Tracey Michelle, considering him to be a 'good catch', had made all the running. This had the effect of colouring the opinion he held of himself as an object of female desire, because if you were to ask him why, after four attempts, he was still mistress-less, Donny would have been at a loss to come up with an answer. What he would have been able to say however, as he approached the door to George's office, was that he wouldn't be without a mistress for much longer, thanks to the excellent idea he'd had.
    Donny didn't really like to consult George if he could help it, and he especially didn't like to confide in him, but as he always maintained a strict Ron Atkinson-advocated non-fraternisation policy with his players it was a case of confide in George or confide in nobody. So he stepped into the club secretary’s office, and said, “George I'd like your opinion on something.” Then, with a shrug, “Well there's nobody else around.”
    George looked up from the papers he was working on. He was surprised to see Donny. “Oh, it’s you, Donny. I thought you'd be with Price and the players; isn't he supposed to be giving them a pep talk this afternoon?”
    Donny pooh-poohed the notion. “Big Donny Donnelly has far more important fried fish, George. Fried fish that could very well make him this season's first Coca-Cola Manager of the Month.” He took a piece of notepaper from his pocket. “What do you think of this?” He read from the note. “'Tall, good-looking, successful football manager, would like to meet young, attractive lady, interested in becoming his mistress. With companionship and lifting the big one in mind.'”
    George smiled to himself. “Yes. Very clever that, Donny.”
    Donny was pleased that the club secretary had confirmed what he already knew. “Good, isn't it.”
    George continued. “I mean if your wife happened to read it she would never suspect it was you in a million years, would she.”
    “ No,” said Donny. Then, puzzled, “Why?”
    “ Successful? Tall? Good-looking?”
    Donny scowled. The old fart never missed an opportunity to hold him in ridicule. “Oh yes, very funny George, very funny I’m sure, I’m splitting my sides here.”
    Then he thought for a moment about what George had said. Maybe he had a point, to be fair; because it hadn't even crossed his mind that his lovely wife Tracey Michelle might see the advert.
    George now pointed out what he saw as another pitfall. “I mean if your missus thought you were having a bit on the side she might reciprocate by having a bit on the side herself, mightn’t she.”
    George’s proposition was completely beyond Donny's comprehension. He