"Well," declared the president of the Football Association of Ireland, "that's been another successful week all round, even though we didn't qualify for the 2010 World Cup," writes Kevin Myers
The FAI secretary looked up from the quill with which he had just finished a letter to the boss of Microsoft seeking sponsorship. A thin pendulum of mucus hanging from his ice-cold nose glinted in the light from the candle which was the sole source of both heat and illumination in the FAI caravan.
"Ngi thihn chow kwan go phuket spam lak do hai," replied the secretary. With him not speaking English, and the FAI president not understanding his montagnard dialect of Laotian, verbal communications between them had limited use. What Li Pak Ho actually was saying was that he had consulted his ancestors on the matter, and they had reassured him he would be perfectly justified in beheading the FAI president if the latter ever again produced Spam sandwiches for lunch.
Toboggans
"Even though we didn't qualify, we were at least well prepared," the FAI president continued, a small smile on his lips, his hands behind his neck. "Preparation. We pride ourselves on that. Every eventuality, that's what we like to think we're ready for. Do you remember the match against Algeria? We had everything we could possibly need - snow-shoes, toboggans, reindeer, hot-water bottles, and loads of Paddy to warm the players up after a training session."
The little Laotian shuddered at the name "Algeria". For that match, the FAI had prepared for a match against Alaska, not knowing the difference. The assistant carrying the whiskey had been sentenced to 20 years' imprisonment on the Algeciras slave galleys. The reindeer were denounced by an imam as Jewish camels and were shot, while the snow-shoes, and the absence of any footballs to train with, suggested that the visitors intended to play tennis. The Irish soccer team lost 6-0, 6-0, 6-0.
The FAI President began to reminisce. "Disappointed with the away match against New Zealand, though. That bit about playing with an oval ball, and handling it all the time: surprised the referee didn't pull them up for that. But that's what you get when you play in South America. Very unreliable, these Latin countries. Take that time we played Ethiopia. . ."
The president droned on, while Li Pak Ho shifted his attention to his letter to Microsoft. The words had been dictated to him in English, and he had written the words down phonetically in Laotian, to be turned into proper English by his cousin Chi.
Lavatory paper
The president was promising the Microsoft boss, Mr Sugar, that the players and their wives would promote his Microsoft lavatory paper at every opportunity.
"In return for this," Li silently mouthed the meaningless words to himself, "I can guarantee unique publicity for your product. Just to show how serious we are, I should tell you that we are close to completing a similar sponsorship deal with the well-known fruit importers and raincoat manufacturers, Apple Mac. We are sure you would want to come on board with us while the iron is hot."
"Take another letter, Mr Pak," The words triggered an instant response, and Li busied himself with a simulacrum of secretarial industry, dipping his quill deep into the pot of ink. "Leddy!" he cried, using the one English word he knew.
The president inhaled, put his thumbs under his braces, and began. "To the president of General Motors, Detroit, Minnesota. Dear Mr Chrysler, As a long-term admirer of your musicianship, I hope you will allow me to have the pleasure of introducing myself. . ."
More such begging epistles followed, all to be written in proper English by cousin Chi before being sent. Soon a letter would arrive in Monaco which ran: "Dear King Carlo, I hope this finds you well, and I am happy to see you have left the days of the Jackal behind you. Even though you have now settled down, I am sure your heart still goes out to disadvantaged of the world. . ."
In Buckingham Palace, the Filipina maid temping from the agency brought the FAI's letter to the Queen in the kitchen where she was making the evening's rissoles. "Dear Your Majesty, Here's hoping you are well. Regards to the Queen Mum, and what a treasure she is! Likewise Diana. I don't know how you'd ever manage without them, which God forbid. Now, knowing your interest in sport, I just thought you might like to. . ."
Canterbury
A rouged and perfumed male secretary opened the letter in Canterbury with freshly varnished nails: "Dear Archbishop, As a long-term supporter of healthy open-air sports, and an opponent of unnatural vices of any kind. . ."
And so the morning continued as the president of the FAI prepared his next slickly professional operation seeking sponsorship for Ireland's campaign for a place in the 2014 World Cup Finals. Finally, with the letters complete, the president opened his lunch-box, and out wafted the familiar spell of Spam. He smacked his lips in anticipation.
A small smile of comparable anticipation was playing on Li Pak Ho's lips as, rising from his tea-chest desk, he reached for the slim yet extraordinarily long scabbard hanging from the back of his belt. . .