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Sheikh Your Moneymaker. A satire.

Here's to you, parent company. Hudson River Blue has the inside scoop on City Football Group and the one man who can't be bothered to run it.

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EDITOR'S NOTE: This is a work of satire. All depicted events did not actually occur (as far as we know). Any resemblance to actual persons is purely -- like, purely -- coincidental.

Dramatis Personae:

SHEIKH MANSOUR BIN ZAYED BIN SULTAN BIN ZAYED BIN KHALIFA AL NAHYAN, mid-40's, Deputy Prime Minister of the United Arab Emirates, member of the ruling family of Abu Dhabi, and majority stakeholder of City Football Group.

SHEIKH HAMDAN BIN ZAYED BIN SULTAN AL NAHYAN, early 50's, fellow Deputy Prime Minister and older brother to MANSOUR.

BOARD MEMBERS #1, #2, and #3.

A series of OTHER BOARD MEMBERS.

A series of ARMED GUARDS.

A discreet MANSERVANT.

*          *          *

ACT I, Scene 3.

The present day. Late morning at the ADIA Tower, headquarters of the Abu Dhabi Investment Authority.

At rise, SHEIKH MANSOUR sits at the head of a large CONFERENCE ROOM TABLE. There are no documents or notes in front of him. His older brother, SHEIKH HAMDAN, sits at his side brandishing AN iPAD. A MANSERVANT is clearing teacups and assorted half-eaten baked goods from the table as MANSOUR begins a business meeting.

MANSOUR:

Gentlemen, let's skip straight to the penetration. (Produces a Zippo lighter, occasionally flicking it on) Nobody wants to do this on a Monday. I know that. I'm supposed to be getting a sponge bath from Kate Moss right now. But we must discuss our overseas portfolio.

HAMDAN:

Indeed. Let every man take notice-- the tea-and-pastry portion of today's proceedings IS ENDED.

MANSOUR:

There shall be no more pastries! I have commanded it.

HAMDAN:

He has commanded it!

Polite applause around the room.

BOARD MEMBER #1:

I was late. Is His Highness saying -- if it pleases His Highness -- that there are no more crullers? I mean, if there were extra crullers that weren't--

MANSOUR:

(He interrupts, and looks toward HAMDAN) Hambone, who is this weak-ass narc?

HAMDAN:

A boil on Uncle's hind parts. He won Cousin Marah in that high-stakes game of Boggle.

MANSOUR perks up, but with a menacing air.

BOARD MEMBER #1:

(Meekly) Verily, Sheikh Hamdan. Fair and square, as they say.

BOARD MEMBER #2:

(Nodding knowingly) Rules are rules.

BOARD MEMBER #1:

That was 1996, if I recall, when I won Marah and we became family. If it pleases His Highness, I'd like to have one of these crullers. You know, just a nibble. I mean, I know I shouldn't, I'm such a fatty...

MANSOUR:

(Shouting) I hate Cousin Marah! Fig her. She looks like Alec Baldwin, but lumpier. She thinks my Dale Earnhardt Jr. RC car is stupid, but it is SHE that is stupid!

HAMDAN:

(To BOARD MEMBER #2) One must never speak ill of Dale Junior upon our ancestors' lands!

MANSOUR:

No crullers for you! In fact, you're off the figgin' Board!

HAMDAN:

It is commanded! You shall have no more Board and no more crullers! The sugary glaze caked upon my fingers is all that remains, naught but a dream of a bygone moment that you will spend the remainder of your existence desperately failing to reclaim.

MANSOUR:

May the shitty specter of eternal shame engulf your family and the cursed Cousin Marah!

The ARMED GUARDS get into a readied position.

BOARD MEMBER #1:

Your Highness, please, would that I--

HAMDAN:

(Interrupts) Enough! Sheikh Mansour, what shall you do with this blasphemous figging wretch?

MANSOUR:

Send him to Asia Minor. If your household disrespects Dale Junior, you are figgin' OUT. Send him over in a hundred separate leak-proof envelopes.

HAMDAN:

Very good, brother. Which shipping service would you prefer? I usually go with DHL. As you know, the Emirati Postal Service has been notoriously unreliable since they switched to helicopter-only.

BOARD MEMBER #3:

As if. They use drones on Saturdays now. I had to send a search party to figure out where they air-dropped my Friday Night Lights Blu-Ray set.

HAMDAN:

Ach. Thrifty bastards. Brother, what are your shipping preferences for this blasphemous wretch? I generally get favorable rates for Turkish-bound human cargo. (Produces a punch-card) Repeat customer.

MANSOUR:

Bake him into a cake, I don't care. The bloody Ottomans can decide what to do with him. But check his pockets first! Sticky-fingered people, the Turks...

HAMDAN licks his fingers, which remain caked with cruller glaze.

MANSOUR:

HEY, Wait-- cut off both hands before you gift-wrap him. Or... while you're doing it. I actually couldn't give less of a fig.

HAMDAN:

Good thinking! Consider it done, brother.

ARMED GUARDS grab BOARD MEMBER #2 and drag him away as he ad-libs his objections, pleas for mercy, etc.

MANSOUR:

(Standing and shouting toward the door) Good luck playing Boggle without any hands!

The remaining BOARD MEMBERS engage in a polite, measured applause.

MANSOUR:

(Sighs) What are we doin'? (Flicks his Zippo lighter)

BOARD MEMBER #3:

(Looking up from his Apple Watch) What are-- what's everybody doing?

MANSOUR:

Are we done here? I'm supposed to play eighteen with Vincent Chase this afternoon. Vinny Chase.

HAMDAN:

Brother, as I have reminded you, Vincent Chase is a fictional character. You are scheduled to play golf with Adrian Grenier, the actor who portrayed Vincent Chase on the HBO original series Entourage.

MANSOUR:

Are you still on about that?

HAMDAN:

It's an important distinction. Also, there is the matter of your overseas portfolio.

MANSOUR:

Ah! My portfolio. How is the kicking going? My ancestors duly earned its land and titles by being the very best at kicking. We shall continue to kick with gusto, for I have commanded it.

HAMDAN:

Of course, brother. Manchester City, as you know, has had a rough go at it in the calendar year.

MANSOUR:

They shall win the trophy with a narrower margin than my Great Fatwa permits?

HAMDAN:

It is unlikely that they will retain the trophy this year.

MANSOUR:

Figging shit, what is wrong with their kicking? Send them many emails and demand better kicking. It has been decreed. A plague of pointedly-worded emails shall rain down upon them, said I!

HAMDAN:

(Swiping through electronic documents) Melbourne City, however... well, let's see here. Melbourne City's current form is--

MANSOUR:

Wait, what's this, now?

HAMDAN:

Melbourne City. In Australia.

MANSOUR:

And... do I own all of it?

HAMDAN:

All of what? All of Australia?

MANSOUR:

Yes. Like Father always said, "You either have one or you need one."

HAMDAN:

No, you do not own Australia. I am not certain that you can.

MANSOUR:

Not with that attitude.

HAMDAN:

(Sighs) I'll make some calls.

MANSOUR:

But catch me up on Yokohama. That's my favorite. Yo-ko-HA-MAAAAA...

HAMDAN:

Yes, well, we still only have a twenty-percent stake in the Japanese club over there, and--

MANSOUR:

Yoko-Hamdan!

MANSOUR looks around the room, hoping for a lively reaction.

MANSOUR:

You are permitted to chuckle politely at this!

BOARD MEMBERS and ARMED GUARDS share a polite chuckle.

MANSOUR:

(To HAMDAN) Get it? That's you. Do you get it? It's like your name.

HAMDAN:

You have punned me expertly, brother.

MANSOUR:

Do you want to coach the team? You really should. Do you want to do kicking for them? (Singing) "Come on, you loco Yoko-Ham-daaaannns..."

HAMDAN:

(Shuffling things around on his iPad) I believe -- and this is the next bit on the docket -- that more resources ought to be allocated to New York, not "Yoko-Hamdan." But I'll be damned if that doesn't have a ring to it...

MANSOUR:

What did you say about New York?

BOARD MEMBER #3:

Have you ever been over there? Everything's got pork in it. It's madness.

MANSOUR:

I was there in 1990. I studied interior design at the Pratt Institute. I just don't blab about it, because it's arrogant.

HAMDAN:

(To BOARD MEMBER #3) It was only one year, but he's got a real flair for it. (To MANSOUR) As for the kicking in New York, flair is precisely what they haven't got.

MANSOUR:

This is not conceivable!

HAMDAN:

The New York team has won but a single game. They are the butt of jokes. Or, rather, the embarrassing flatulence that wafts forth from the butt of jokes.

MANSOUR:

I reject your unnecessarily graphic imagery! What about Project Mecha? That was a billion-dollar project. What is the status of the cyborg test subject?

HAMDAN:

Mecha-Saunders has been a top performer this year. His liquid hydrogen fuel efficiency has been remarkable.

MANSOUR:

So, what's the big figgin' deal? Is the cyborg not kicking the ball into the netting?

HAMDAN:

Mecha-Saunders is a goalkeeper. The keeper prevents the ball from going into the net.

MANSOUR:

Since when?!?

BOARD MEMBER #3:

In terms of best practices, perhaps they should consider forcibly disappearing the opposition. That's how I met my wife.

HAMDAN:

That's one idea. Keep them coming. The club has scored only five kicks in eight games.

MANSOUR:

But what of the Spaniard? The one who wears women's jeans?

HAMDAN:

His groin and hamstrings have been highly disappointing.

MANSOUR:

His groin shall be the most disappointing of ALL by the time I am done with him! I demand scoring kicks!

BOARD MEMBERS and ARMED GUARDS nod and ad-lib in unanimous agreement.

MANSOUR:

What of the Nordic boy, Max... Dickinloop? McDiscworld? The Nordic boy, the Laplander.

HAMDAN:

The sheer amount of hair product necessary to sustain his vital functions constitutes a significant drain on our bottom line.

MANSOUR:

Then we shall cut it off! Off, off, off, off, off, off, off, off, OFF!

HAMDAN:

It would kill him.

MANSOUR:

So, that's one option.

HAMDAN:

He would literally die.

MANSOUR:

There are no bad ideas in brainstorming.

BOARD MEMBER #2:

Sheikh Hamdan, what are the alternatives?

HAMDAN:

(To MANSOUR) You could sign another kicker to do different kicking.

MANSOUR:

It is decided!

Polite applause around the room.

HAMDAN:

If you want to sign a player from Europe, though, they won't be able to make it to New York until July.

MANSOUR:

(Incredulous) Why, because they're going to walk there?

HAMDAN:

Don't... don't do this.

BOARD MEMBER #2:

(Reading from his Apple Watch) It is due to what are called "transfer windows."

MANSOUR:

(Angry) HOW MANY VERSIONS OF WINDOWS ARE THERE NOW?!?

HAMDAN:

(Dovetailing) Please don't do this.

BOARD MEMBER #3:

The transfer window! I've heard it's fantastic.

MANSOUR:

(Dovetailing) Why don't I just send a plane? They could get in the plane and then they'd be on a plane! Don't you think they would get to New York much faster that way?

The BOARD MEMBERS look at one another sheepishly.

HAMDAN:

Brother! Remember Frank Lampard?

MANSOUR:

Duh. The only man I ever saw with an endorsement deal for pies.

BOARD MEMBER #2:

(Looking up from his Apple Watch) There's pies?

HAMDAN:

Frank Lampard is transferring this summer to help New York. He'll be good for the Nordic Boy, Mac Dicksword. Like a Dale Earnhardt to the Nordic boy's Dale Junior.

MANSOUR:

(Mystified) Dude.

HAMDAN:

Works out for everyone. Sound good?

MANSOUR:

Better than Cousin Marah's tears taste, probably. Two Dale Earnhardts! On my team! START YOUR FIGGIN' ENGINES, NEW YORK!

BOARD MEMBER #2:

I beg His Highness's pardon-- I am familiar with Mac Dicksword, but who exactly is this Earnhardt fellow?

MANSOUR is incensed, and gestures quickly toward one of his ARMED GUARDS, who grabs BOARD MEMBER #2 and hoists him off the ground

BOARD MEMBER #2:

This is a travesty! Let go of me! You can't do this!

HAMDAN:

(Coldly) It's time you transferred to a different cabinet department, old friend.

The ARMED GUARD heaves BOARD MEMBER #2 toward a far WINDOW, which shatters as the victim begins a thousand-foot fall to his death.

MANSOUR:

(Brief pause)

Oh, "transfer window." I get it.

Fade to black.