Saga Takeover Pompey

@bearsy Are you @bearsy in disguise

Oh god, there goes another six months of my life…

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Who is the American billionaire - I cant make it out from this thread?

Portsmouth fans don’t have proper willies!!!1

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Is it you @newyorksaint ??

American billionaire Michael Eisner has launched a bid to buy Pompey.

The News can exclusively reveal the former Walt Disney Corporation chairman is in negotiations to take ownership of the League Two club.

This sounds a bit like when we sold the yanks London Bridge and they thought it was Tower Bridge (lolz).

Somebody probably showed them a match day magazine from their premiership days with the year tippexed out.

:lou_lol:

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Hmmmm

I wonder…

Obviously not an allegation at all, just casting my mind back to some of RB’s finest forum hours and then this pops u about Laundered Russian Money, some passing through the Baltic States and memories of what were their names?

I’m sure there is a joke somewhere here involving Portsmouth FC and Mickey Mouse, but i can’t for the life of me think of it!

It’s on page 1…

Could be many more laughs if Eisner get them, he’s a fractious guy who puts his own interests before any company

Wish it was. I could lock the gates and throw the key in the harbor

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Wonder what the fans who purchased a share for £1,000 will think when they don’t get any money back…

Someone will have to read them the small print…

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Portsmouth Takeover Negotiations In Full


The front-desk receptionist at Fratton Park was re-evaluating her life choices. She had joined the club in 2006, and for a couple of years the prospects of future advancement had seemed exceedingly fair. Alright, the wage had always been shite, but the fringe benefits! She looked down, at the Louis Vuitton handbag by the side of her desk, and remembered how she had earned it, working 8 minutes overtime with Jermaine Defoe in the disabled toilets. The Frederique Constant watch on her wrist, and how it came to be hers. She smiled as she recalled climbing that step-ladder, to sit on Peter Crouch’s face. Her life was full of such trophies, she had far more than the club, and she’d secured a lot of cash bonuses too. Players would pay her to keep quiet, and one player, Matty Taylor, who had never touched her, even paid her to say that he had.

But that was then, and things had changed massively. The halls of Fratton Park were no longer stalked by millionaires. The players she met now were broke and worthless, only making ends meet by selling suck-jobs at the dockyard, or working part time as Uber drivers. If she bent over for one of them, she’d be lucky to get a bag of chips for her trouble. She sighed deeply. It was a hard life.

The front doors opened, and a man walked through. He was a large man of advanced years, but he burned with vitality. Her eyes were drawn to his overcoat, and its huge fur collar. She could smell money from 200 yards, but she didn’t need to hardly take a sniff on this one, he had it in bucketloads! She wondered if he wanted his pecker sucked, and if she should mention it straight away.

“Howdy!” he boomed. He was American. American money was the best kind, her fanny fluttered like a hummingbird. “My name is Micky Eisner! I’m looking to buy a soccer club. Who’s in charge here?”

“Erm.” It was a good question, and he had her stymied. “I’ll have to go and find out. Please wait here.”

“Have you got a washroom? I had one of your English Fry-Up’s this morning, and it’s burning a hole in my drawers.”

She pointed him in the right direction. “If you go in there and get started, I’ll be back in two minutes to help you finish off.”

“What? I don’t need help, little miss.”

She blushed. “B-but, you’re going to want to wash your hands, aren’t you?”

“Naturally,” he lied. “I always do.”

“Then I’ll have to go and get the kettle.”

She skuttled off. “Limeys,” muttered Eisner, under his breath.


Iain McInnes lay on the floor in his Fratton Park office, greying pants at half-mast. He was surrounded by empties. Empty bottles, empty cans, empty bank-balance, empty trophy cabinet. He bleched loudly, and it sent a pain right through his temples. What had he drunk last night? The surrounding evidence seemed to suggest, everything.

The receptionist burst through the door. She pulled up abruptly, eyes widening at the scene. “What’s this?”

McInnes climbed to his feet. It took him three attempts. He pulled up his pants, and gestured to the empty bottles and cans. Wine, champagne, special brew. “This,” he said proudly, “is next summer’s transfer budget.”

“There’s a man here to see you. Micky something. An American. He wants to buy the club!”

McInnes eyes widened like a surprised bumhole. “What? They were serious? My God! I thought it was just Les Reed again. He’s phoned me 3 times in the past month, pretending to be the Sultan of Oman.”

“It’s not Les Reed. This guy, he seems legit. He smells of money! He could save us all!”

McInnes stumbled, and shit himself. He could hardly believe it. His prayers were answered! “Give me five minutes. I’ll get dressed.”


“I won’t beat around the bush, McInnes. I’m a busy man. I’ve got a business empire to run, and you…” Eisner looked around the decrepit offices doubtfully, “you’re probably quite busy to do. I’m looking to buy a soccer club. I’ve been told that yours is the biggest and best club on the whole of the South Coast!”

McInnes almost choked on his scotch. “Who told you that!”

“The Ports Mouth News.”

“A fine publication,” said McInnes quickly. “Very respectable. Trustworthy.”

“Exactly. This is jus an initial meet. I want to get a general idea, McInnes. What are you looking for?”

“Looking for?”

“How much. How much for the club? All of it.”

McInnes thought deeply. He looked at the empties, stuffed in a corner. He looked at Eisner, and his expensive coat. He chanced his arm.

“Five hundred?”

Eisner shot out of his seat. “Five hundred! You must be crazy! Do you think I’m a fool?”

“Ok, ok, sorry. I wasn’t prepared. Two hundred, then.”

Eisner gave him a frosty glare. “If you are not going to be serious, McInnes, then there is no point taking this any further.”

McInnes sighed heavily. He gave it some thought. Unwins had a two for one offer on Special Brew. Could he make that work?

“Fifty,” he said.

“Fifty?”

“And a day pass for Euro Disney.”

Eisner smiled slightly. “You’re a tough negotiator, McInnes. I respect that. I still think your valuation high, but we can use it, as a starting off point. Fifty million. Is that pounds, I assume.”

McInnes stared at him for the longest time. Then he stood, and walked mechanically to the door. Locked it. He went to the cupboard, and retrieved his creditors stick. It was a baseball but, that he had garnished with nails. He used to use it on charity workers and newspaper boys, when they came looking for their money. McInnes walked back to his desk, sat down, and placed the creditors stick deliberately in front of him.

“What’s this?” said Eisner, alarmed.

McInnes smiled darkly. “We’re entering an exclusivity period.”

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Obviously we know nothing about Football Club takeovers.

We have never seen a stalking horse or a lawyer/PA to someone famous allowing linkage or speculation that an office that manages a trust fund linked to a Briefcase Owner may be kicking tyres.

But obviously, as they are so set in their Bestest fans owned club, nobody acted as a go between or gave Mickey Mouse a call or spoke to his lawyer.

Of course not, the fans were so happy owning the club they would never sell so they would never have done the grunt work. Obviously Mickey Mouse woke up one day and said “I will buy a Football Club that is owned by Fans and not for sale” when there are about 50 clubs not owned by fans that are available to buy.

Nope nobody led the horse to water.

Or did they?

And if they did, what fun a forum could have in speculating about it.

In their hour of glory, who could return from the Dead to haunt their every waking moment?

Apart from allegedly Jailed Fake Sheikhs and allegedly Jailed Money Laundering Russians allegedly

Just imagine the reaction IF

Image result for milan

Tenuous @dubai_phil but fun !!

Let us say that this all comes to pass. Can we then expect to see, at the first home game of next season, the Pompey faithful holidng up cards (kindly provided by the new owners) spelling out the word “YOURS”?

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So it emerges that their wagebill is £5m - while Burton spent £3.6m on getting into the Championship.

Meaning that pompey had the money to fix the stadium, but they chose to give it to players.

They have learned nothing.

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