A Letter To Newcastle's Terry Mac: From Galactic Keegan... With Love

Space-bound Kev misses the old days, and decides to pen a letter to his old number two, Terry McDermott...
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Space-bound Kev misses the old days, and decides to pen a letter to his old number two, Terry McDermott...

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A Letter To Newcastle's Terry Mac: From Galactic Keegan... With Love

April 2019
Palangonia (Antioc Nebula)

Dearest Terry,

I have no idea whether you’ll ever get this email. The last I heard, Gareth Southgate said that you’d gone missing in Earth Sector 7. Sector 7, for God’s sake! What you were doing there, I’ll never know. It’s like the executive bathroom at St. James’ Park after Mike Ashley has popped in – everybody knows you simply do not go in there if you value your life.

I hope that, if you do get this, life on Earth is tolerable. When the L’zuhl invaded in 2017, I didn’t think humanity would last five minutes. Now, two years on, the uneasy truce seems more precarious than ever.

Most days, I’m glad I accepted the offer to come out here to Palangonia and start up this football academy. I’m a pure football man first and foremost and the idea of these lads having no-one to guide them was just too painful to ignore. Admittedly, most of them can’t tell a free kick from a jacket potato, but then you and I had that same problem with Obafemi Martins and he still went on to become one of the top fifty strikers on Newcastle’s books from 2006-09.

It’s strange out here, Terry. The Antioc Nebula is basically the arse-end of space and, although the Palangonian government encouraged a human settlement here, I still don’t feel welcome. It’s exactly like when I was England boss – everyone seems to know what they’re doing except me and I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve come home to find obscene messages scrawled on my door. But they won’t get the better of me – as you know, I’m never one to walk out and leave a job unfinished.

The human settlement here is currently just a huge walled compound with a heavy military presence. It’s a lot like Mr. Al-Fayed’s mansion, only without the posters offering rewards for the capture of Martin Bashir or Neil Hamilton. We have extremely limited access to the internet – I can basically access my inbox and the Argos website. I ordered a cross-trainer from them but apparently it was lost in transit somewhere in the Spartalen System. I was not very happy and, believe me, this was reflected in my customer feedback.

I miss you, Terry. I miss the day trips that we’d take the lads on when they scored more than four goals in a match. Obviously we had to knock that on the head in the end as it was every week and was costing me a fortune. I’ll tell you, honestly, I’ll never forget that jobsworth at Alton Towers making you pay twice because he said your wristband had expired. Bloody cheek! Still rankles, that.

Anyway, I’ll let you get off. I really do hope you’re okay, Terry, wherever you are. On cold Palangonian nights I still think of how we used to huddle together for warmth on UEFA Cup trips to some Eastern European outpost. I’ve come to realise that no-one understands me like you do. All I see around me nowadays are angry and irritated faces – very much like when we went to Silverstone and I told Lewis Hamilton that he reminded me of an evil Theo Walcott.

I’ll also send you that Bryan Adams song I was telling you about - it’s a duet with one of the Spice Girls, or something along those lines. It’s a bit more ‘heavy metal’ than the stuff we usually listen to, but I really think you’ll like it.

For me, it’s a little piece of home.

With love,

- Kev

(…Sorry – couldn’t get the attachment to work. I’ll be honest, I don’t really know what an attachment is. All the best.)

Follow Galactic Keegan on Twitter at, you guessed it, @GalacticKeegan

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