‘Dear Pimp My Side, my team’s going through a “Transitional Period” at the moment. How can I Pimp my Side for next season?’
AW. London N5.
AW, yo flava is bad, cuz! Your yoot playas play well buff football and next season you gonna scrap a lick fa shizzle! That keeper, though, is well deep - me bredrin reckon he’s an ijat. Brapp!

‘Dear Pimp my Side, once again my team’s been left wanting in every possible way. We were dumped out of the Carling Cup by schoolboys, knocked out of Europe when we eventually met a half decent team and yet again failed miserably to qualify for the Champions League. Can you please Pimp my Side?’
Martin J, Lightweight Lane, N17
Bun dat! Nuttin na gwan with dem menz you got cos theys are well wack. You’s on your lonesome J’s, get me? Outti.

‘Dear Pimp my Side, my friend (who’s also been a lifelong fan for the last three years) says our side needs to be badder. I think he means better, so I’m writing to you for help. How can I Pimp my Side?’
Lifelong Blue, SW London.
Your well balling owner’s gotta buy some more off the hook playas from outside the manor that no one else can afford. You would then link that Premiership title again. You not gonna get any bluds for doing it though and everyone’s gonna diss you. Innit.

‘Dear Pimp my Side, some horrid people are calling a little Portuguese friend of mine who I won’t name, a cheat and a show off. How can I Pimp my Side for him?’
Red Face, Manchester.
You’s well begging, man! Your butters mandem teefed so many penalties, the feds were called. No wonder everyone’s cutting their eyes on him. Air.