I've got a theory, we all know that there's actual Footballing Gods don't we? We know they've always been on the side of good, 1970 at Deepdale, giving us Billy just when we needed him, getting Holloway sacked at Leicester so he spent a year looking after chickens and rethinking his tactics, making sure Chopra hit the bar, making sure GTF signed, creating Charlie and Brett etc...
Anyway, they do have a lot to look after apart from us (the whole 'PKE Will Fail' taskforce, sending Horwich to the lower leagues, hilariously giving us Sunderland to mock etc...) One day five years ago they're sat around having the morning handover when a junior God notices they've completely forgotten to read the debrief from special envoy Belokon detailing how the Oystons must be punished, there's a stunned silence as they realise the error has led to the World's Greatest Football Club languishing in the lower leagues with fans being sued and the Premier League money being squandered by a rapist.
All other business is immediately dropped and Special Envoy Belokon is summoned to a hastily arranged crisis meeting, after apologies for their oversight, the Footballing Gods task their envoy with destroying the Oystons, an easy job he says, they're idiots, I'll just drown them in their own hubris and incompetence, but I can't take over the club as Special Envoys to the Footballing Gods can't directly own clubs as your charter forbids it, so what to do when I've chocked the very life out of their business like a cat playing with an especially thick mouse?
The Footballing Gods look at each other knowingly, do not worry Special Envoy Belokon, they say, many years ago we worked on a project for just this occasion, it took many years and many failed attempts, but eventually we created what can only be described as 'The Perfect Football Club Owner', our remit was a tough one, he would need to be a local, a supporter from an early age, a self made man with the financial resources to resurrect the club, but also a humble man working for the greater good who put his faith in a progressive manager and young hungry players, we named him Simon Sadler.
And all was well, the world was once again Tangerine and the gods slept the sleep of the good.