Aston Villa Football Club released a statement on behalf of American owner Randy Lerner and Paul Faulkner after tens of thousands of Brummies screamed for a change of manager.

They didn't write it themselves obviously, someone from the public relations or marketing department would have stuck it under their nose as they discussed stocks and shares.

But they would have probably approved it.

Obviously it is written in a language that no-one speaks or talks, especially no-one in Birmingham, it is PR-speak and I am going to try and help you understand what the words in the statement really mean.

"Right now everyone connected with Villa is hurting badly."

Ok, we heard your foulmouth chants last night loud and clear, however, at least you came what is really hurting our wallet is the ten thousand fans that could not even be bothered to pay to watch the game.

"A win was in sight last night against Bolton after a strong start and the tenacity the team displayed, although ultimately we weren't able to hold on for the points."

This sentence has been written for the benefit of fans who are so stupid they need to be told in flowery language what happens when the team goes one up and then subsequently loses 2-1.

"We very openly acknowledge the frustrations of Villa fans and share in them completely."

We know that Alex McLeish is rubbish. We understand why you think he is rubbish, we've just looked at the EPL table and it appears we are in deep trouble. We feel your pain, we have said that and we know your pain is the manager so he will be sacked when the season ends.

"What matters to us and the Board at this moment is how we, as a Club, handle adversity and the pressure it brings."

What matters to us is our balance sheet and going down to the Championship will mean all the hours Paul Faulkner spent compiling spreadsheets will have been wasted. Also notice our use of renegade capital letters, we are down with the kids man. Also in the first draft the word 'pressure' was actually 'panic' but we did not want to acknowledge that this is what everyone connected with Aston Villa is doing right now.

"Our horizon is the next three games and we continue to be in control of our own destiny."

Change the word 'games' to 'days' and you will notice this entire sentence has been lifted from the lyrics of Bon Jovi's 1986 smash hit Livin on a Prayer.

"Young players side-by-side with more senior players are fighting hard for the Club."

Obviously that is the senior players not crocked, on loan or sold. Our academy has saved us again, these homegrown players are fantastically cheap to pay, and by the way Barry Bannan and Carlos Cueller don't half look strange together side by side.

"They are now preparing for West Brom followed by Spurs and Norwich."

This sentence is for those fans who are so stupid they don't know what teams the most important three games this decade are against. It is also designed to soothe any worries that our players are too busy getting people pregnant, eating Nandos, having tattoos and playing on the PS3 to care about winning a football match.

"We will continue to support and rely on our manager and the squad and therefore give them our full support."

Have you noticed how long we have gone without mentioning the manager, and as a tactile nod to how annoyed with him we can not even bring ourselves to mention him by name. And notice the word 'rely' and not 'fully back' or have 'confidence', nope just rely. We are sure a lot of you people rely on the bus to get to work and nobody wants to get the bus to work, you want a car.

"We are totally conscious, as is everyone at the Club, that this is a very trying time for those who love Aston Villa."

This sentence is exactly the same as the first paragraph but written with different words.

"We know that the team will continue to fight through every minute of the remaining games and we hope Villa fans will continue to show their great support."

This is going to be fight. And not a case of winning the next game and being safe because this group of players is sinking faster than the Costa Concordia (see how modern we are not mentioning the Titanic).

This is not going to be easy. And rest assured the players have been reminded that a game lasts 90 minutes something that seems to have escaped them for the last nine months.

Obviously when we use the word 'great' we mean awful because last night our scared to death young team needed support in the most important 15 minutes of the seson and all fans did was question what Alex does when his wife is on holiday. Can not you be just a little bit grateful of all the money Randolph has put in this club, the Holte pub is even open once in a blue moon because of him.

Why can't you be like Newcastle fans who blindly love their club even when it rips them off left, right and centre.

There is something truly beautiful about Geoffrey Boycott snorting with disgust about an English batsman giving his wicket away cheaply.

Boik’s great when he’s had a chance to think about slating a cricketer but when he’s so shocked he can’t control what comes out of his mouth, and for all I know bowel functions as well, it is simply priceless.
One game with England rocking Christopher Martin Jenkins was commentating and describing the action.
He said: “Bopara is out for LBW!”

Within a mili-second a nasal Yorkshire voice came bellowing across the airwaves in so such pain it sounded like he had just came home and found his dear mother dying with multiple axe wounds.
“Naww, Deeeeeaar God, boy, dear God.”

Then silence. Everyone in the Test Match Special studio must have had to get their ears immediately syringed and the decibels must have destroyed the constitution of any cakes lying around.
Then the wonderful voice was back. Every sentence wasted no words and every single one was delivered with disgust.
“There is no way he should have been caught by such a soft ball, my mother could have faced that, that bloody red bus over there could have bowled at him and he still would have got out.
Jenkins cut in: “England are in trouble.”

“TROUBLE, it’s a bloody shambles man, absolute tripe, how can a top class batsman hoping to make a score play such a bloody awful shot, he was scared stiff, the Aussies must be laughing their heads off now.”
His no-nonsense approach cuts to quick and he could have made a great lawyer, in a strange way the way he speaks reminds me of my mom in full flow, and she has had electric shock treatment!
I reckon Boycott is the only person in the world who could give my mom a run for her money saying: “You make me sick, you are just like your dad, the bastard.”

If only the sham football commentators took a leaf out of Boycott’s book of telling it the way it is instead of trotting out clichés and ‘show us your medals’ banal banter.
The Test Match Special dream team for me is Henry Blofeld and Geoffrey Boycott.
Privately educated Blofeld who has a vocabulary and delivery which sounds like a cross between an Ealing comedy actor and Oxford debating king.

Nobody in the world can describe a seagull lazily flying across the ground like Blowers can and his wonderful knowledge of the game really gives TMS that Radio 4 feel which is should never lose.
Then there is Boycott who is as Yorkshire as Tetley tea and is the living embodiment of ‘I say what I like, and I like what I bloody well say’.

He is a national treasure, the way he faced the God awful prospect of a court case in France where a ‘lady friend’ claimed he beat her up after ‘meal with the international popular music star Billy Joel’ (what I’d give to hear that conversation) was priceless.

He flew every ex-girlfriend he had ever had to the court house and had a photo with all of them with him grinning in the middle claiming that in 50 years he’d never laid a hand on a woman and he got them all to say he was a great bloke.
Imagine phoning up all your exes and asking them to meet all your other exes and then have a cosy photo taken with them and when asked why the ‘lady friend’ made up the story of him beating her up.

He gave the best reply anyone could give. “Look lad, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
The way he handled it meant that he ended up keeping his job on Sky and the BBC. To some a figure of fun but I couldn’t imagine cricket without him.

Blofeld and Boycott are total contrasts brought together by their love for the beautiful game that is quintessentially English.
Call me mad, and perhaps it is because I’m not signed up to the Murdoch money making machine Sky, but I love listening to cricket on the radio.

Test Match Special is would be worth the license fee alone if I paid it.
There have been worries about the ‘radiofiveisation’ of TMS which started to eat away at it’s traditional format. When Tuffers and Radio Five’s Mark Poo-Gash got their TMS ties, the writing was on the wall but now it is back to its best. Blowers, Aggers, Jenkins, Boycott and have all been on great form. 

TMS was the first sports broadcast to include the listeners, whether it be Miss Dinglethorpe’s lemon curd flan from Horsham, but even now steers clear of Radio Five’s idiotic reliance on telling the audience what some div doing the decorating in Milton Keynes thinks about the sporting event he is listening to.

Twenty20 is all very well but nothing beats a five day test match with a nail biting end.
When Aggers said at the end of the South African Test: “And that is the last Test Match Special of the summer,” it signalled the end of Summer for me.