Part 1 can be found at: http://www.fantasyfootballscout.co.uk/comment/12462118
Part 2 can be found at: http://www.fantasyfootballscout.co.uk/comment/12467248

Part 3

The softly spoken, flaxen haired Scotsman slowly paced around the room he had only just barricaded himself in. His daughter and that boyfriend of hers, Za.. now he couldn’t even think his name, let alone say it, they banged on the door, desperate to eat his flesh. Had he been the reason for this outbreak? Was he to blame for the destruction of the entire planet? He hoped not or he might not get another job again. He sat down in the corner of the room and silently sobbed, not wanting the world to hear him giving up hope. If only he had ignored ‘The Hair’ and gone for someone more suitable, this could’ve been avoided, or could it? He’ll never know. He pulled the knife from his pocket and tried to slit his wrists. But wait, why wasn’t he bleeding? He examined the knife, he couldn’t believe it. Another bad decision, he’d only gone and picked up a blunt butter knife. He threw it across the room and just sobbed some more whilst mewing for his mummy.

Wales

Having reached Rome in the middle of the night the welsh team had holed up for the night. Not wanting to progress in a foreign land without some daylight as a natural back up, not when they didn’t know how many of those creatures were out there to try to stop them. Dawn was breaking, what a beautiful city it was. Timbo turned to Dufflinks and asked him to confirm the destination.
‘Yes boss’ Dufflinks promptly responded. He produced a map and pointed at it whilst saying. ‘If you see this is an ancient city, it’s full of catacombs from the roman times. Evs has made radio contact with the Italian team, they’re going to make an Aerial assault so to maximise our chances of finding the cure, and keeping our lives, I recommend we approach and attack from the underground’

Timbo say on a nearby rock. He couldn’t believe it. Was this just a dream? To have to come to one of the most recognisably holy cities and have to launch an attack and participate in what could be a bloody battle in one of the world’s most sacred places, well it just doesn’t seem real. He knew he had to keep these thoughts to himself, he couldn’t let his men see the weakness at all.

He just hoped he had the right place, if he didn’t, he hoped someone did….

Columbia

The Columbian helicopter landed in what can only be described as a ghetto. Interesting, Ayew Serious thought, a ghetto in England, who would have thought it.
‘Gregg’ he asked, ‘where are we?’ ‘Warrington boss, 20 miles to our destination’ came the response.

Twenty miles Ayew thought whilst laughing to himself, I guess the boys will find any excuse to use a bit of their Columbian marching powder. ‘Poch’ he said whilst grabbing Pochecinno’s shoulder. ‘Tell me why you think we have to come to Manchester to find the source?’

‘Well boss’ Poch started off with, ‘’All the clues add up.
1) A strange creature trying to integrate with society.
2) The inability to read or express emotions.
3) The sudden inability of all those around him to attack, in a seemingly futile attempt to seem passive and harmless. I mean come on; even their tank hasn’t had a shot in weeks. It’s just not normal boss.’

‘When you’re right you’re right, and I hope you’re right’ Ayew said before issuing the order to march onwards towards Manchester.

Cuba, Jamaica, Tahiti

The unforgiving sun shone down on them. Their thoughts of respite from the heat of the Sahara desert had no effect. Like an unforgiving mistress who thinks you’ve done wrong, it was never ending in its attack on them. Why did they have to eat the Mexicans? Jarvish thought to himself, why did they have to try and side with the alien overlords. This was humanity on the line and they did it just for a bit of power, to stroke their already inflated egos. The Mexicans were good people but Daas had the last laugh. At the last minute when he found out they were betrayed and to be eaten he knew he couldn’t escape or save the lives of his men. He also knew he could swallow a deadly poison that would be transmitted to them via his dead flesh, and that’s what he did. The Cuban, Jamaican and Tahitians lay now on the desert floor. Unable to move, slowly dying whilst baking from the sun. Daas had the last laugh.

Argentina, Portugal

‘Are you sure?’ LeBron said to Roscola, ‘Why would they do that?’

‘Yes boss’ Roscola responded.

‘Ok, get the men, we have a tough decision to make.

Lebron gathered his men together, away from the earshot of the Portuguese.

‘Ok men, Roscola intercepted a message from Big Sum to the alien overlord telling them of our movements and plans, we no longer have the element of surprise’ he said in a hushed tone. ‘More importantly, we have to decide if he is a rogue agent or if all of the team is corrupted. He has to go, that’s without question, what do we do with the others? Doorsa, give me an analysis please’
Doorsa pushed a few button on his touchpad ‘Well I’ve just created this table’ he said whilst showing the others. ‘It shows the Portuguese team as a whole have made fewer shots, struggled when we have corners to deal with and haven’t put up any defence against the infected. Either they’re a weak team or they’re all trying to make us fail.’

Lebron scratched just underneath his eye, his oil stained finger leaving a black, sweat stained smudge on his chiselled features. ‘Ok, Dr. Wakey, let’s do this quietly and without pain. Can you give them something to either knock them all out or kill them?’

Wakey was not known for his subtleness but he was known for his madness. An evil grin appeared over his face whilst he pulled out a small box from his pocket. He turned around to the Portuguese and simple shouted ‘CYA’ to them whilst pressing the button. Instantly an explosion blew them all up showing the Argentinians with bits of their flesh.

Well Lebron thought, messy but effective.

‘Men, onto Manchester and onto the source. At least we now know we’re on the right course.’

Italy

The Italians as a whole knew what had to be done, they knew that the cure for this disease lay in their own city. A part of them felt proud that it would be Italian genius that saved the world, but equally a part of them felt sorrow for having witnessed the bravery of team Uruguay, having only minutes ago watched Oghash take his last breath whilst passing on the exact location of the cure.
‘Men’, Gooner97 shouted at his team. ‘Look at these fallen heroes, they died to make sure we could succeed. We have the location, we’ve had contact with the welsh who will be attacking from the catacombs. We will take a helicopter, over the walls and then launch a bloody battle to get the cure and save mankind.

With that only 4 brave teams survived. The Welsh and Italians are converging on an unknown location in Rome. The only clue being that it’s held sacred by many people. The Columbians and Argentinians are bearing down on an unknown location in Manchester.

Who will survive? Will anyone? Will they save humanity or will it perish. What exactly has this got to do with the FIFFSA World Cup? You will soon find out. The 4th and last instalment of this story will be available tomorrow. Please do let me know who you want to live or die.

*************BREAKING NEWS*************

We've just received word that Mexico have appointed Joaquín Guzmán, better known as El Chapo, as their new head coach. Although helping them qualify to the FIFFSA Cup, they have severed ties with coach Danny Trejo.

http://static.fjcdn.com/pictures/Danny+trejo+holding+a+dove+magical_377321_4608364.jpg

See the new coach at his latest press conference ahead of Mexico's opening group fixture against Montenegro.

http://s12.postimg.org/urkeytwy1/elchappy.jpg?noCache=1453381053

**************************************************************************************************

With regards to the gentleman's agreement, i just wanted to have an agreement with the captains to save these chips for the DGW and nothing else. Where its the right time to use for your own team (except AOA).

Part 1 can be found at: http://www.fantasyfootballscout.co.uk/comment/12462118
Part 2 can be found at: http://www.fantasyfootballscout.co.uk/comment/12467248
Part 3 can be found at http://www.fantasyfootballscout.co.uk/comment/12476802

Part 4

‘You’re the fat man, not me!’ the alien overlord repeated to himself over and over. He chuckled, amused at by how amusing he found himself.

‘Master G?’ mini G said in annoyance more than anything else. ‘You promised me riches, you promised me that I would take over and be loved, worshipped and needed by the masses, when will this happen?’

This seemed to break the overlord from his perpetual, repetitive phrase. He raised a hand and immediately his underling fell to his knees in pain.

‘Silence, you irritate me. You should be happy you’re alive’ was the response barked back at him. ‘Can’t you see what started off as a veritable army set out to find me and the cure, is now down to two teams coming for me, which is not enough. The cure won’t help if I am still here.’
His underling bowed his head and finally understood. You can’t sell your soul to the devil, no matter how red you thought he was originally, and expect good results in the end.

‘Fetch me the tank’ the overlord yelled at him.

Italy, Wales

The cure was so close, both captains could feel it. Gooner97 and his men had just free fallen onto the hallowed ground that is the Stadio Olimpico, Rome with no resistance.

‘Men he screamed, guns loaded, beast mode on, let’s do this!’ the simultaneous sound of guns cocking ready and approving grunts came from his men.

‘Charge!’ with that the Italians charge towards the tunnel into the darkened hallway to try and find the cure.

Athletico Timbo was up to his knees in other peoples mess, literally. He would do anything for his men, his country and his and humanity, but it didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. He’d already lost one of his team, Jonty, who had slipped on a used sheath and managed to break his neck when he fell. Another, Spencer, had lost his gun and was sobbing to himself as the waded through the sewage and general nastiness of the Italian underground.

‘Men, we’re almost there, get ready!’ Timbo said encouragingly to his men whilst pointing at a hatch just ahead and above them.

They got to the hatch and Timbo knew he had to be the first one through, ready to take the first bullet if needed. He also knew he couldn’t go in firing as he had no idea what format the cure would be in. He climbed on Evs shoulders and gently pushed the hatch to one side. With that he leaped up through the hatch screaming a battle cry as fierce as he could while at the same time trying to assess what was friendly and what was foe in the room.

All went silent. He couldn’t believe what he saw. The room was empty apart from one man, sat alone, trying to complete a junior jigsaw. Dressed in the iconic black and white kit of Juventus. He men climbed into the room and still the silence was not broken, could this really be the cure, the saviour of mankind?

At that same moment the wooden door flew off its hinges followed by the burly figure of Gooner97 flying through the door, swiftly followed by his team.

The lone figure looked up at the two teams, calmly put his jigsaw piece down and in a strong French accent, Paul Pogba said ‘Yes, do not be surprised, I have waited for this moment. I am the cure to beat all cures. Take me to Manchester. I can save the world, but only if that evil man is gone.’

Argentina, Columbia

The Columbian team had vastly under estimated English ghettos. All but the captain, Ayew Serious and AZ had survived. Even with the extra strength and energy their marching powder had given them they had not figured on the English youth. Their first encounter summed it all up. The leader of the English mob simply said:

‘Come head, that’s not marching powder, what have you cut it with? Daz? We’ve got the real stuff’ before promptly attacking the Columbians. Ayew looked up and saw what some call the theatre of dreams, or theatre of sleep as it had come to be known recently. Could they do this with just two men? He was sure. Before he had the chance to find out from behind him bellowed the word Comrade. He turned around

‘Comrade, Ayew, is that you? Lebron asked, a big smile coming across his face. ‘I have never been happier to see you’.

‘Old friend’ Ayew said in reply, ‘Where is your team?’

‘Dead’ LeBron said, matter of factly. We stopped some locals to get directions and as soon as they heard old Trafford they screamed Citeh several times before attacking us. My men died, I don’t know how I escaped. Possibly because the mob got distracted by a picture of Georgie Kinkladze’

‘Come’ said Ayew, the overlord Van Gaal and his underling Giggsy are in there. We must defeat them before they destroy the world.

‘But how? LeBron asked, ‘He is a just a football manager, allegedly’

Ayew proceeded to explain how he was really an alien who had disguised himself as a manager to infect the world with boringness. He had made the once proud Manchester united play football without being allowed to attack at all, thus making the public think he was a harmless, stupid old man. He warned LeBron it was dangerous, for the alien Van Gaal had his trusted tank, Roonpig, ready and waiting to destroy any attackers. But there was hope! The Italians and welsh had secured Pogba who would come and save the Manchester United team and thus end the boring football and the deadly disease that was spreading around the world, banishing the evil overlord at the same time.

WHACK came a forceful smack around the side of his head. WHACK came another.

‘What is it woman?’ Granville grumbled at Mrs. Granville, ‘is a man not allowed to have a siesta?’

You’re annoying’ came the angry response, ‘I’m trying to watch Corrie and all you kept saying was Kill Van Gaal, Kill Van Gall.

With that Granville realised it was all a dream, and unlike in his dream, Van Gaal couldn’t be killed, Pogba would never got to Manchester United and they were doomed to play bad football forever and a day.

I hope you all enjoyed this lengthy presser/story. Good luck to all 32 teams left in the FIFFSA world Cup and thank you to the committee for organizing this, must have been a bit of a ball ache!

I came here to provoke the Northern Irish, but anything I say would be overshadowed by Oghash 🙂

*Pours Guinness down the sink, slowly*

Fiffsa
Please just bench all Scotland team this week

Teamsheet sent. Please let us no if said teamsheet was not received.

Over.

FIFFSA, meghan will be on the bench for Germany. Cant get through mail.

Just ordered my nephew a controller for his birthday, 150 euros for a controller! I'm getting old, consoles used to be cheaper than that.

Back to football. Anyone captaining wi(c)kham this gw? I am, you heard it here first!

There is a team called India,
They all drive around in a little kia
They're about to play Uruguay,
Obviously lose so they'll cry
Because trying to beat Uruguay is a bad idea!

Why Malaysia, which is the highest 2nd rank is placed at pot 3 is really beyond me.

Djibouti lies over the ocean
Djibouti lies over the sea
Gonna smack them today in thailand
And whup their butt over our knee

🙂

From malaysia with love

"Beach" said a voice. The Seychelles team opened their eyes.

“Woof, och aye, woof. We’re as good as…”

The voice paused and the sound of collar being shaken by ear scratching followed.

“Dead.”

We were wide awake now and sat up our beds.

“Woofin’ Poland, woofin’ Bosnia, woofin’ Portugal, did us in,” the voice continued.

There was an accent to that bark, but at first our sleep-fogged heads couldn’t place it.

“Beach,” he said again, spitting out the word.

A Scottish accent.

There was a scrabbling sound on the wall, like a dog wanting to be let out. A head appeared through the mosquito netting, silhouetted, facing us.

“Hey,” he said.

We didn’t move. We were sure he couldn’t see into the room.

“Hey I know you’re listening in there. I know you’re awake.”

He lifted a paw and gave the netting an exploratory poke. It popped away where it was stapled to the Formica. His paw popped through.

“Here.”

An orange object sailed through the darkness, landing on my bed in a little shower of orange liquid. The Iron Bru he had been drinking. I grabbed it to stop it soaking the sheets. The rest of the Seychelles team huddled around.

“Yeah,” barked the dog and laughed quietly. “Got you now. I saw you take the can.”

“Do you want this back,” I asked.

“You were listening,” he replied, ignoring me. “Heard me growling about the beach.”

“You’ve got a loud growl.”

“Tell me what you heard.”

“We didn’t hear anything.” The other Seychelles team members nodded silently.

“Heard nothing?” The dog paused for a minute then pushed his muzzle into the netting. “You’re lying.”

“No, we were asleep. You just woke us up when you threw that can at us.”

“You were listening,” he growled.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well I don’t care. Look.” I stood on the bed and held up the can to the hole he had made.

“If you want this take it, all we want to do is go to sleep.”

His paw reached through the gap and plucked the can away.

Even after he had switched the light out, twenty or so minutes later, we couldn’t get back to sleep. We were too keyed up, too much stuff was running through our heads. Beaches and Barkleys. We were exhausted, jumpy with the adrenalin of losing our final qualifying match but still making it to Thailand. Perhaps, given an hour of silence, we might have relaxed, but soon after the dog’s light went out the Cuban team came in shouting “Somos Cubanos!” for several hours.

The following morning five of us – Cheeseoid, Blue Lion, Jawain, Badger and I – went out for breakfast. Balders stayed behind saying he had to work out the latest goalkeeper baseline BAPs.
When we returned there was an envelope half under the door, one slobber covered end poking out into the hallway. I pulled out the envelope. On it was written ‘Here is a schedule’ in what looked like the poor penmanship you associate with a dog writing.

Balders wasn’t inside the room, but the rest of us huddled around as I opened the envelope. The schedule was beautifully drawn with different colours for group games and the path through the later rounds to the final of the FIFFSA Five-A-Side World Cup. The word ‘Scotland’ had been scratched out from the group game slots.

Flipping the schedule over, we found a doodle on the back. At the top was written ‘Gulf of Thailand’ and the squiggles must have been attempts to draw islands. Then, on one of a cluster of small islands I noticed a black mark. An X mark. I looked closer. Written underneath in tiny letters was the word ‘Beach’.

We weren’t sure what we were going to say to him. We felt we should commiserate with a fellow who had travelled all this way to Thailand, despite his team failing qualify for the World Cup. His door was unlocked, the padlock missing. We listened for a minute before knocking, and when we did the door swung open.

The dog was lying on the bed, snoring. There were cans of Tennent's littered all over the room and he was cradling one in his paws. In the daylight we could all see who it was. We stood looking for a moment, then Jawain said: “We should check JTD’s OK” and he stepped into the room.

Cheeseoid started to reply, but had barely said “Don’t worry” when Jawain interrupted him: “Guys, we’ve got a problem.”

We inched into the room. Inside we could see more and there, behind the bed, was the foot of a body.

Edging further in, it was clear from the Arsenal socks whose body it was: Balders. Cheeseoid and Blue Lion rushed forward.

“He’s alive,” said Blue Lion. “But he’s not going to be fit to play today. Here Cheese, help me lift him up.”

We carried Balders back to the Seychelles team hotel room and lay him on his bed on his side. We should have stayed, but we had our first World Cup match that afternoon and couldn’t afford to miss it. I picked up the schedule to look at where we were playing Iceland and the first thing I saw was that X. The beach.

My mind drifted away to memories of qualification and the dream of the ultimate prize began to blur as siren voices started singing… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCTLO77CBAY

Best of luck to everyone 🙂

Walker Moreno Bellerin, Zouma, Rose

Which one to downgrade ? And then to whom?

Balders , link to differential spreadsheet?

Ta

Does anyone have a link to live scores spreadsheet? Thanks.

Okay guys, the live scores are running on the FIFFSA 2016 World Cup spreadsheet now 🙂

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1JTszQsoUPIVR6eyX5oNMDU9HiPPmLDtfR5oM2YmDzgA/edit#gid=1355992652

Doing my cheerleader work from the bench today, Seychelles vs Iceland differentials:

Seychelles

Myhill x2, Butland
Dawson x3, Moreno x3, Smalling, Rose, Walker, Dier, Simpson, Targett
Alli x3, Mahrez x2, KdB x2, Yaya Toure, Arnautovic
Lukaku x2, Kane, x2

Iceland

De Gea x2, Hennessey
Alderweireld x2, Sagna x2, Wollscheid x2, Bertrand, Clyne, Sakho, Koscielny, Bellerin, Evans
Firmino x2, Payet x2, Sigurdsson x2, Willian x2, Wijnaldum
Vardy x2, Giroud, Ighalo

Tip #1 to find whether a team is casual or not -

Check FPL ID no.'s . If in 6 digits or more ...the player is most probably casual..

I am not saying Costa Rica are casuals but..... 😛 😀

Hendo GOAL Clyne Assist

Jamaica vs Sri Lanka is down to Lukaku vs Aguero. All of Jamaica have their armband on Aguero while we have it on Lukaku.

5:30pm pre-baps update

Iceland 124 - 137 Seychelles

Seychelles
[Butland, Hennessey in for Myhill x2]
[Bellerin in for Walker]
KdB x2, Yaya Toure
Lukaku x2

Iceland

Sagna x2, Koscielny, Bellerin
Payet x2, Sigurdsson x2, Willian x2
Giroud

Djibouti 265

3x Bellerin, Ivanovic, Walcott, Sigurdsson

Malaysia 286

Özil, Mirallas, Baines

Post baps and auto subs done.

Not looking too good.

Zambia: 284 + Williams + Ozil x2 + Ramsey

Israel: 224 + Courtois + Cech + Monreal x2 + Koscielny + Baines + Barkley

It's looking good for us!

As it stands

Monte +33 pts: Ivanovic, Koscielny, Mirallas

Mexico: Lukaku, Baines, Bellerin

Firmino boned us

Italy

Courtois
Barkley x3; Willian

Cuba (+46pts)

Koscielney x2
Ozil, Ramsey
Lukaku x2

...I think we might just nick this one 😀

Jamaica : Ozil, Deulofeu, 96 points
Sri Lanka : Lukaku x 6, Siggy x 2, Kos, Monreal, Barkley, Willian, Baines

MD1 Update,, including BAPS and auto subs

Uruguay 289 vs India 225

Differentials:

Uruguay

Baines
Walcott

India

Ramsey
Lukaku x 3
Jags
Bellerin
Ivanovic
Terry
Carzola
Kone
Costa

We have a big lead but they have lots more players. Kaku scoring and a 0-0 would easily win it for them.

Seychelles vs Iceland overnight including autosubs

Seychelles: 28 points, Lukaku x2

Iceland: Willian x2, Koscielny, Giroud