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.