In a gameweek where only six of the Dream Team hit double-figures, points were at a premium. While several FPL Nightmares were endured, a new name was in dreamland as he replaced Ginger Ben at the top.
In a quiet week for points in FPL, the main story of the week comes from Lord Geord's press conference, where he ended up in an unprecedented spat with Weekly Bullshitter reporter Jez Messing. Showing up an hour late to the scheduled meeting, Lord Geord had read Messing's hastily-published post-match analysis of the Lords' abysmal gameweek, one that questioned his tactics throughout the season and speculated that he might not make it to the festive period in charge of his team. From the moment Geord entered the room, the tension was palpable, and within seconds it became clear this would be no ordinary press conference. What follows is a transcript of the unbelievable altercation.
Lord Geord: (Looking around the room) Which one of you is Jez Messing?
Jez Messing: Me.
LG: You're a cunt.
JM: Thank you.
LG: You are out of order. Absolutely fucking out of order. If you do it again, I am telling you, you can fuck off and go to another ground. I will not come and stand for that crap, no fucking way. Lies. Fuck, you're saying I entered the dressing room afterwards, ripped into the players, and the players ignored me and fucked off.
JM: No, Geord. Have you read it? It doesn't actually say that. Have you read it?
LG: I've fucking read it. I've read it. You are trying to undermine my fucking position.
JM: It doesn't say that. I knew you knew they were having an off day.
LG: Fuck off. Fuck off. It's your last fucking chance. You are a negative bastard.
JM: So if I was a manager and my team underperformed all year, should I tell my team it's just an off-day?
LG: It's none of your fucking business. What the fuck are you going to do? You ain't got the balls to be a fucking manager. Do I want your opinion? Do I have to listen to you?
JM: You can listen to who you want. I'm just suggesting you need to be harder on the players, that you're not getting enough out of them.
LG: What are you, my personal psychotherapist? Fuck off.
JM: You could have called a team meeting. You could have had them analysing what happened, watching the match back. You told them it was an off-day and you've let them go out on the town.
LG: I wanted to discuss the match with my assistant, with King Ding and Jockin' Jeeves, before going over it with the players. I wanted to get as much information as possible first, from people with the bollocks to do the job. I don't understand where you are coming from. You're delighted the Lords are struggling, aren't you? You're fucking delighted.
JM: Nobody is saying that. Nobody wants that.
LG: You fucking love it.
JM: Nobody is saying that, Geord. We just don't understand what's gone wrong. You had a brilliant run post-restart, and now you've gone back to your old habits and you're in the middle of your worst start ever. They say you're not going to be involved much longer.
LG: 'They' can fuck off. It's none of 'their' business.
JM: Well, it is actually, because they report on FPL. Your form has gone off a cliff. You're taking hits like a desperate junkie about to enter rehab. We're getting no straight answers from anyone. What is going wrong? What are you going to do? Are you going to stick around? These are dead simple questions, and you don't know ...
LG: I don't know? I have been ridiculed! Why should I explain myself to you?
JM: We are all grown men, and we just want to talk about football, but you come in here calling people cunts. This is all on the record.
LG: Write what you like, it makes no fucking difference to me. It doesn't affect me, I assure you. It'll be the last time I see you anyway. I'm not coming out here to have the piss taken out of me. I'm ridiculed for no reason. I'm defenceless. I can't get a point in, I can't say nothing, I can't do nothing. Then you, you're trying to get into the players, you're trying to say we've got a split camp or something, trying to make a tough situation worse. It's ongoing. It just doesn't stop.
JM: It's early days for you to be like this. It's only Gameweek Six.
LG: No, I'm clearing the air. And this is the last time I'm going to speak to you. You want these answers, I'll tell you. I'll speak to the supporters. I'll tell them what the plan is. And if I'm not flavour of the month to you, it doesn't fucking bother me. I've got a job to do, and I'm going to do it to the best of my ability. I'm not going to spend any more time listening to your crap, reading your crap.
JM: That's the game, Geord. You know the game.
LG: Of course I do, but I don't have to fucking like it.
JM: I'm just going to print the absolute truth, that you think I'm a cunt, I'm a fucking bastard.
LG: Do it. Fucking print it. Do you think I'm going to care? Put in that it'll be the last fucking time I speak to you, too.
Press Officer: Look, let's get onto FPL ...
LG: That's all I wanted to fucking talk about. I'll tell you about FPL. We've taken a hiding so far, a fucking hiding. We're nineteenth in the table, we got one return this week, one, and even that was a soft free-kick assist. Our great run last season came after an early wildcard. We tried it again and it backfired, then we had to scramble to get the big guns in. Nobody saw Man City being this shit, nobody. Nobody saw Kane turning from an injury-prone Shearer wannabe into prime Messi, nobody. King Ding, he's the greatest Gentleman ever, and he said to avoid Mourinho's players like the plague. Fucking idiot. Then you've got fucking VAR, that fucking VAR cost us two clean sheets this week for a clean tackle! It's a fucking joke.
JM: Everyone else is working under the same circumstances.
LG: If you say one more fucking word, Messing, I swear to Shola ... Yes, everyone is under the same circumstances, but it's fucking hard. This is a fucking hard game. All of last year's top ten are in the Irrelevants. Does that not tell you something? It's a strange season. There's no fans, no energy. The computers are bastardising the rules. It's all fucking haywire at the minute, and all you're on about is our fucking struggles. Does the fact everyone who normally does great is struggling not tell you something? We're playing by the strategies of success in recent years, but this is no ordinary season.
JM: That's fair ...
LG: I said no more fucking words from you, you little shit-stirring bastard. I've not forgotten how you undermined the Juggernauts last year, posing as a travelling cafetiere salesman to trick Hot Rod into revealing Jeeves' secrets. That's all you fucking do, undermine people. All you want to write is how the Lords are falling apart, how the King is being overthrown, how Big Steve is being usurped by his mate, how the Hitman is being thrashed by his brother. You never phrase it in a way that gives praise to those doing well. Look at Ginger Ben. Shite last season, absolute shite. Now he's been top for five weeks. Where's the articles praising him for raising his game? There are none. It's all, 'King Ding is in the bin' and 'All-Star Vogt has lost the plot.' Five fucking weeks he was top, not one opinion piece. Slick Rick, he finished Gameweek One with just 35 points, and all you cunts dismissed him. The next week, Hundred Club. This week, top of the league. Yet all you'll write about is being called a mean word. Pathetic.
Press Officer: We need to wrap this up.
LG: I need to address the fans. Yes, we've had a terrible start. Yes, the plan was no hits and we've taken them every week since our Gameweek Three wildcard. Yes, we need to do things differently. It's a long road back now, 138 points off the top, but it isn't over yet. There's 32 gameweeks to go. To the teams at the top, to Slick Rick, Ginger Ben, Sirloin Sean, Dan the Dragon and the rest: well done, lads. It's been a fucking hard start to the season, and you're all smashing it. We look forward to the challenge of catching you. To everyone else that's struggling: ignore the naysayers and the shit-talkers. It's a long season. We may be disappointed so far, really fucking disappointed, but there's a lot of football to be played yet. We can all get back in it.
Press Officer: Ok, Geord, that's enough. They need to write up the cup results and analysis of the league, and you've given them a lot to report already.
LG: Ok, ok ... One last thing. Jez Messing, you're still a cunt.
JM: And you're still shit at FPL.
The Cup Chronicles
A dramatic week in the Gentlemen's Classic, which saw three teams qualify for the second group stage after just four matches. The first of those was Sirloin Sean in Group A, who continued his perfect record with a 68-51 win over Flash Funk courtesy of the joint-highest gameweek score in the division. All-Star Vogt's struggles continue with an early elimination, his 16-point hit proving the difference in his 40-56 defeat to Big Steve. Group B gave us the competition's first draw, with Ginger Ben and Big-Time Birkett battling to 58 points apiece. The big story from Group B is that King Ding emerges from Matchday Four on the verge of elimination, his 31-50 defeat to Hitman Hodgson leaving him three points adrift of Ginger Ben with only two games remaining. That result sent the Hitman to the top of the table, leaving him needing just a draw against Birkett next week to qualify for Stage Two.
Group C gave us the other two early qualifiers for Stage Two, with Slick Rick and Deadly Daz getting the results they needed to ensure their progression. Deadly Daz proved dominant in the Wars of the Lawes, winning both with relative ease after the transfer hits of Lord Geord left him too much of a mountain to climb. His 48-23 victory means that, while Lord Geord can still catch him on points, the head-to-head record is 114-75 in favour of the Dazzler, sending the Lord back to the drawing board and leaving him in a straight fight with Slick Rick to top the group. The Slickster's 67-58 victory over Private Parvesh means he holds a two-point advantage at the top of the group, continuing his perfect record in the competition. Group D remains wide open, though the Masterchef faces a tricky task after a 54-68 defeat to Jockin' Jeeves. Only two wins from two remaining games can give the Masterchef hope, while Jeeves celebrated the birth of his son by moving to the top of the table on six points. It's neck-and-neck between The Ox and Who Horner, both of whom have four points following The Ox's 55-43 victory. Crucially, the 12-point margin gives The Ox the superior head-to-head record between the two, an advantage that could prove crucial by the end of Stage One.
Gentlemen's Classic, Matchday Four results:
All-Star Vogt 40 - 56 Big Steve
Sirloin Sean 68 - 51 Flash Funk
Hitman Hodgson 50 - 31 King Ding
Ginger Ben 58 - 58 Big-Time Birkett
Lord Geord 23 - 48 Deadly Daz
Slick Rick 67 - 58 Private Parvesh
The Masterchef 54 - 68 Jockin' Jeeves
The Ox 55 - 43 Who Horner
In the Eliminator, it was a close-run affair right to the final minute of the gameweek. For the second week running, the four-time league champion, King Ding, was at risk of being eliminated, until Ings popped up with two assists. That left a three-way race to the bottom between Red Hot Rob, Wildman Whitfield and Lord Geord, all of whom had taken a -8 this week. Son's eleven points saved the Wildman, leaving Kane the adjudicator between the final two managers. Ultimately, Kane could only provide a single assist, meaning that Wilson's fortuitous assist on Sunday saved Lord Geord and condemned Red Hot Rob to leave the competition.
Currently eliminated: Metal Marc, Mack Daddy McMahon, Red Hot Rob.
The League of Gentlemen:
Another week at the foot of the table for Metal Marc, despite managing to reach a half-century of points. That total meant the gap to Mad Mikey shrank to just three points, even with the uncharacteristic transfer restraint shown by Mad Mikey this week. A gap of 21 points separates him from Wildman Whitfield on 256 points, with Private Parvesh on 257 points and Red Hot Rob on 259 points both just an assist away. The FPL Nightmare continues for Lord Geord, just four points higher in the table, as All-Star Vogt creates a seventeen-point gap despite taking sixteen points of transfer hits. A good week for Big-Time Birkett saw him climb the table to 17th, with the Masterchef and Mack Daddy McMahon both five points ahead and separated only by transfers made.
Fifteen points ahead in 14th is King Ding, who finally breaks the 300-point barrier to end the week on 310 points. It's looking like a tough season for the defending champion, who is already 99 points off top after just six gameweeks. A half-century for Hitman Hodgson moves him ten points clear of the champ, with Deadly Daz building on his Gentlemen's Classic Stage Two qualification by closing the gap to Who Horner to just six points. It was an interesting week for the Juggernauts, who saw manager Jockin' Jeeves delegate to Hot Rod in order to see his first-born son enter the world. Despite owning nineteen mobile phones that were a bargain from a car boot sale, the elderly assistant boss was unable to find a charger for any of them. He sent a letter in the post to FPL headquarters to inform them of the changes he wished to make, but they deemed this unacceptable in the modern era. Nevertheless, the FPL Gods smiled on the Juggernauts, with the unchanged team securing the joint-highest total of the gameweek, closing the gap on ninth-place Big Steve to just five points.
The Chasing Pack
Dropping to eighth is Wooden Spoon Helling, and it feels like a matter of time until one of the big names hunting him down are able to pick him off. A misfiring front line produce only one assist from seven players, with four of his attackers scoring just one point. Without the clean sheets of Ayling and Azpilicueta, it would have been a disaster for Helling; as it is, his gameweek is merely awful. It will take an almighty stroke of fortune for him to escape fading to the Irrelevants next week.
Climbing to seventh after a solid 51 points is Flash Funk, who has a thirteen-point lead over Helling. It was looking like a terrible week for the Funkmaster until Son and captain Kane produced 21 points in the gameweek's final match; those points, plus the clean sheets of Chilwell and McCarthy and the assist of Wilson, keep his team in the green arrows and building momentum. He'll know The Ox pulled four points away, but his eyes will have lit up at the struggles of Iceman Newton in fifth, who he outscored by 13 points. With two free transfers ahead of Gameweek Seven, Flash will enter the weekend expecting to see another green arrow by his name.
The Ox's momentum is also building, with his overall total of 360 points moving him into sixth position, just eight points behind the Iceman. Dunk-replacement Konsa, his only new signing, proved a disaster, conceding three goals and only scoring one point. Aside from that, it was a solid week for The Ox, with three assists and a clean sheet supplementing the 22-point total of captain Son. A 60-point gameweek average over the opening six weeks is consistency every manager dreams of; if The Ox can maintain that over the coming weeks, he will continue to rise in the ranks. With £3m in the bank, upgrading Saliba or Branthwaite to Robertson would do his prospects the world of good.
It was a true FPL Nightmare for Iceman Newton, who secured just 38 points and fell out of the Title Contenders. Making matters worse was that this was a direct consequence of his decision to Wildcard. Every decision he could get wrong, he did. The Leeds fanatic chose to make Dallas his last sub, missing out on his six points while watching Digne score minus-two. He replaced his hero Bamford with Watkins, only to see Watkins score two points while Bamford scored a hat-trick for seventeen. He brought in Ings, only to change his mind and sell Ings and Zaha, who scored 23 points between them while Grealish and Kane, their direct replacements, secured just six points. The only new signing that paid off was Castagne, but even he was replacing his Leicester team-mate Justin for no net gain. Had the Iceman made no changes to his Gameweek Five team, then instead of 38 points he would have rattled home 79 points and been eight points clear at the top of the league, with a Wildcard in hand. Now, he's 33 points off the top, with no Wildcard, out of the Title Contenders and he's stuck with a squad that looks far less appealing than it did when he selected it, with Reguilon benched, Digne now suspended, a double-Villa attack and barely any money in the bank. A complete and utter disaster, and a warning to anyone else considering the use of a Wildcard right now.
The Title Contenders
Dan the Dragon is going under the radar a little, perhaps due to missing out on the Gentlemen's Classic, but he ends Gameweek Six in the Title Contenders again after securing a very steady 56 points. He went against the traditional wisdom of benching a defender who plays one of your attackers this week, and saw it work out wonderfully due to Wilson's assist coming after Saiss had been subbed-off with clean sheet points secured. Son, Zaha and captain Kane all secured double-figure totals for the dragon, and in a low-scoring week like this one, a solid score can prove spectacular. A slight regret will come from benching Justin instead of Lamptey - a decision that cost him the chance to rise to third - but the lesser-fancied Hodgson is upending the formbook this season and looks set to feature in the upper reaches of the table for a while to come.
Just two points ahead in third is the resurgent Sirloin Sean, who has arrested the post-Gameweek One slide and has now secured 153 points in the two gameweeks since using his Wildcard. Six players secured returns, with three defenders registering clean sheets and Son, Bamford and captain Kane hitting double-figures. The joint-highest score of the gameweek puts him 22 points off the top of the table, and the two free transfers he has this week give him an excellent chance of reclaiming the top spot he shared in Gameweek One. Little was expected of the leading member of the Appleby Assassins Guild when he joined the division; his career-high overall ranking of 344,439 suggesting that he'd be a solid player without troubling the Title Contenders. It just goes to show how the League of Gentlemen inspires veterans to greater heights, and now a man who would've been happy with beating his personal best holds serious ambitions of winning the competition.
Ginger Ben's remarkable streak at the top of the table came to an end this week, despite a solid score of 58 points. It looked like the Ginger One was going to extend his dominance for another week when Bamford started his gameweek off with seventeen points, but with only two clean sheets secured before Son and captain Kane brought in 21 points, his gameweek opening proved to be a false dawn. The challenge now for Ginger Ben is to ensure this week's disappointment doesn't become the start of a slide down the table. He remains only seven points off the top, and just outside the top 100k on the overall rankings, and is in a very good position despite wasting his Free Hit last week. The best thing he could do is make no transfers, break the habits that have formed over the last three weeks, regain his equilibrium and trust his players to re-take his place at the top in Gameweek Seven. The hardest thing in FPL is to do nothing when you feel like it has all gone wrong; if Ginger Ben can do that, he could ensure his stay in second place is short-lived.
The Man Who Would Be King
For the first time this season Ginger Ben does not possess first place, and the man who has displaced him is the Trickstar himself, Slick Rick. His faith in Spurs paid off again this week, with Son and captain Kane bringing in 21 points. Further returns were secured from Walker-Peters, Zaha, Jimenez and Ings, giving Slick Rick a 67-point gameweek and making him the first manager to break the 400-point barrier. That woeful opening gameweek of 36 points seems so long ago now. Inside the top-69k overall with a seven-point lead at the top of the table and through to Stage Two in the Gentlemen's Classic, the season is looking very promising indeed; given the consistency shown since Gameweek Two, it will be a challenge for anyone to catch the Trickstar. The rest of the division can only hope for injuries to Spurs' main men; should they remain fit, Slick Rick could be unstoppable.
That concludes the Gameweek Six round-up for the League of Gentlemen, a gameweek which saw three teams qualify for Stage Two of the Gentlemen's Classic, which saw Iceman Newton play the worst Wildcard in the history of the division, and which saw Ginger Ben knocked off the top for the first time this season. As always, may all your transfers be successes, may all your arrows be green, and may the FPL Gods forever be in your favour.
Gentlemen's Classic fixtures, Gameweek Seven:
Flash Funk vs Big Steve
Sirloin Sean vs All-Star Vogt
Big-Time Birkett vs King Ding
Ginger Ben vs Hitman Hodgson
Private Parvesh vs Deadly Daz
Slick Rick vs Lord Geord
Who Horner vs Jockin' Jeeves
The Ox vs The Masterchef
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