Chapter 16 In which Pangloss gets a somewhat mixed reception at Westphalia United

Reading the paper over the next few days after the big presentation it appeared that Pangloss's worst fears were being realised. The Westphalia Express had devoted several pages to the 'city' idea, but the key phrases, now reported in black and white without the high-tech light show, all seemed utterly bonkers. The worst thing about it though, was that it was so obviously a lot of nonsense interwoven with overblown phrases which stated what was already common knowledge. Each day there was another letter from outraged locals who were sick to death of their money being wasted on such a grand scale. Pangloss's mood was getting blacker by the hour. He decided to call Charlie Windsor; he had been so upbeat the last time Pangloss had seen him he might be able to cheer him up now.

'Oh, for goodness sake, said Charlie, after listening to Pangloss's tale of woe, buck up old man. Let's get some perspective on this. How many letters are there in the paper about this? About two a day. The rest of the Letters' Page is taken up with the usual moans about Europe, thanks for those who gave so generously to the latest charity appeal and thanks to the person who helped the old lady when she dropped her purse in Sainsburys. These letter-writing lefties might have a bee in their collective bonnet, but they've got no real power. Two small letters buried on page six does not a revolution make, my friend. Now look at the positives: you have a fortnightly column with your picture at the top, your picture is always on at least two different pages and you can issue a press release and it's headline news. No, old Trotsky in the Kremlin up on Shagwell Hill and his mates haven't got a prayer. It's time for a bit of PMA, old boy.'
'Pre-Menstrual Activity?' Pangloss asked.
'Positive Mental Attitude. Think like a winner, and you'll be a winner.

Pangloss put the phone down and considered what Charlie had said. Yes, it did seem to make sense - he was the mayor, and he held all the cards. After all, no-one had really batted an eyelid when he hired those consultants. And let's not forget, he had been voted in. The people of Westphalia-on-Sea had asked him to represent them. All right, as percentages go, seven wasn't great, but he wasn't going to be meek. He would go on a charm offensive, get out and mingle with the great unwashed. But where would he start? Walking through the town? No that would be no good - just a few fat chavs waddling in and out of mobile phone shops. And then people would accost him with tedious stories about traffic wardens and rubbish, and why are there buses driving through a pedestrianised area? No, the town wasn't a good idea. He folded the paper and was about to put it down when he noticed the back page. Pangloss wasn't a football fan, but according to the article it seemed that Westphalia United were doing rather well. Maybe this was just the opportunity Pangloss was looking for. The chance to associate himself with something positive happening in the town, and meet a large group of locals all at once. Yes, he would phone them straight away.

'Hello, Westphalia United? This is the Mayor. Could I speak to the manager please.'
'OK, I'll put you through.'
'Hello, Ron Truckle,' said a rather gruff voice at the end of the line.
'Mr Truckle, it's Dr Pangloss, the Mayor. I have a space in my diary this afternoon, so thought I'd offer you my services and come and present the cup at the match this afternoon.'
'What cup?'
'Aren't you playing for a cup?'
'No, it's a league game against Steeple Bumstead.'
'Well, what do you win at the end of that?'
'Three points, if we're lucky.'
'Well, I'll present those then.'
'You don't present points. Oh, look, this is a wind up isn't? Is that you Colin?' said Truckle, starting to laugh.
'I assure you I'm serious Mr Truckle. Could I come and shoot a goal then, or meet the players? Maybe I could bully-off?'
'Look, we won't really have time for that.'
'I am the Mayor, you know.'
'Now listen here. I don't care if you're the Queen of bloody Sheba. You're not interfering with my pre-match preparations.'
'Is there perhaps someone else there I could talk to?' asked Pangloss, changing his tone a little.

After further discussion with a nice girl in the office it was agreed that Pangloss would pick the winning raffle ticket in the half-time draw. Pangloss arrived promptly and was greatly interested by all that went on, particularly the singing. Apparently the cafe had run out of pies, and one section of the crowd wanted to know where they had gone. They seemed to suspect a large steward had eaten them. As kick-off time approached the announcer read out the Westphalia United team: 'In goal, Tom Pearce. At the back Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney and Peter Davey. In midfield Daniel Whiddon, Harry Hawk and Tom Cobley. Up front, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub. On the bench, Williams, Burfitt, Courtenay and Phillips. After each player's name was read out the crowd gave an appreciative cheer. Yes, thought Pangloss, that's what I need, a little public show of affection, something to give me a boost, and demonstrate that there are plenty of people out there who agree with what I'm doing and like the way I'm doing it. These people may be revolting foul-mouthed working class football oiks, but at least they're not bloody lefties and moaning Victor Meldrew types. Feelgood factor, here we come at last.
Pangloss had to admit the match was quite exciting. He wasn't sure who was running towards each goal, but by half-time the lady next to him assured him that Westphalia were winning. Perfect thought Pangloss. I'll just pop down and get my standing ovation as the town's elected civic leader, and he made his way down on to the pitch.
The young lady from the club office shouted into the microphone: 'And here to pick the winning ticket and present the prize money is your mayor, Dr Pangloss!' Her voice rose at the end, which was a subtle hint for the crowd to cheer.
'Boo! boo! The crowd shouted with one voice. Boo! BOO!'

Pangloss's face took on the colour of a slapped arse, and he smiled the uncomfortable smile of someone trying to ignore three and a half-thousand people booing them. The Steeple Bumstead fans must have thought it was hilarious.
'Goodness me, he said to the girl afterwards. Football fans, eh? They do have a jolly sense of humour.'
'Yes, agreed the girl. we haven't had that kind of reaction since the last owner was here. And you probably need the skin of a rhino in your job - what did you say you do again?'
'Oh, it doesn't matter, said Pangloss, it's really not that important now.'
'OK, said the girl. See you next time, then?'
'Hmm, yes, maybe.' replied Pangloss.