Like Harvey Keitel In Pulp Fiction.
		
		
	 
We could do with Mr Wolfe. Cue Wayne's World style d-d-d-d-d, d-d-d-d-d wiggly imagination waves:
Interior: House of Commons
MP Bob: Mr Wolfe? 
The Wolf: Yes.
MP Bob: We have a situation in Coventry.
The Wolf: I can be there in 2 minutes.
Exterior: Mr Wolfe, dressed in a tuxedo, exits an expensive car and walks to Jan's door.
The Wolf: You're... Jan, right? This is your house? 
Jan: Sure is. 
The Wolf: I'm Winston Wolfe. I solve problems. 
Jan: Good, we got one. 
The Wolf: So I heard. May I come in? 
Jan: Uh, yeah, please do. 
Interior: Jan's house
 
The Wolf: You must be Sisu, which would make you ACL. Let's get down to brass tacks, gentlemen. If I was informed correctly, the clock is ticking, is that right, Jan? 
Jan: Uh, one hundred percent. 
The Wolf: The new league season... starts at 3:00 in the PM on August 3rd, is that right? 
Jan: Uh-huh. 
The Wolf: I was led to believe that if the fans come to home games and find us in Northampton, they wouldn't appreciate it none too much? 
Jan: [laughing] They wouldn't at that. 
The Wolf: That gives us exactly... 23 days to get the fuck back to Dodge. Which, if you do what I say when I say it, should be plenty. Now, you've got a stadium and a club, minus a non-trading property subsidiary company, in the city. Take me to them.