Gauthier Ganaye at Wigan..

GG visited Wigan the other day as a front man for a buyer. Not revealed who the buyer is

Via Alan Nixon on twitter, aye.

First thoughts is it can't be our current consortium due to dual ownership rules, and i would have thought he would have restrictive covenants/non compete clauses in his contract with Oostende.

Very strange

Quote of tweet:

Wigan. Mystery visitor was Gauthier Ganaye. Oostende chief exec. Ex Barnsley and Nice. All clubs have tie ups. Front man for a buyer. Or intermediary. Won’t say who (to me anyway). Needs to show and relegation shortly if going to win the ‘race’ ...

 

Just saw that on Twitter, very strange.

 

Is this Fact?

 

Looks like it.

 

Can't be for our owners as it would be a conflict of interest and they wouldn't want to buy a debt ridden business.

 

Unless one of them decides to part ways with the rest of the consortium. Weren't there rumours of a fallout between Conway and Lee or did I dream it?

 

Interesting.....

 

Think they are both involved together in us , Oostende, and the other club they have an interest in that I can’t remember so doubt it’s either of them

 

They cleared nearly €3m of Oostende's debt, a bit more at Wigan mind.

 

Can't pay we will take it away.......he's Conway and co's heavy....lol.....

 

FC Thun

 

Wigan forum currently in meltdown at this news. They've got themselves a new conspiracy theory now,that somehow Barnsley's owners were involved in their demise so we could then pick up the scraps on the cheap. They're giving me hours of harmless fun and entertainment over there

 

Might have to join you, you cant beat a good conspiracy theory

 

That guy is delusional, but I am enjoying them thinking that our owners are in for them

 

It's a frenzy over there. Apparently we're putting the last nail in their coffin by ensuring they go under?

 

Ha ha ha

 

Be my guest Helen. Knock yourself out. Take some popcorn

 

Maybe Paul Conway, Chien Lee and Billy Beane are all secret rugby league fans, having fallen in love with the game when they were out in Australia, draining kangaroo serum which Beane realised could be used to turn iron into solid gold.

They caught a rugby league match when they were taking a break from their alchemy as the mixture was cooking; the sheer excitement of seeing a big bloke running into another big bloke ad nauseum tipped them over the edge. And then, when the serum-infused gold came out of the furnace, lo: the lump of metal had taken on the form of something real and recognisable.

It was not the face of Jesus or Elvis Presley or Eva Peron into which the disbelieving eyes of Billy Beane stared. No! But a miracle nonetheless, for the metal had gathered itself into the resemblance of a Pie, crimped of crust and cooked to perfection. A Golden Pie, full of beef and carats.

Then, frustration, for the glory of alchemy was not to be repeated. It was a one-off, a fluke, and the triumvirate grew despondent. They carried out their experiment over and over again, but no gold was to be forthcoming. They knew the quantity of serum to metal. They knew the temperature of the furnace, and they knew the magical words they needed to use. But the gold refused to reveal itself.

Back home, Paul Conway switched on Fox Sports in the time of lockdown when all that could be watched were old rugby league matches. Wiggin Wor'yuz were playing th'Tellens in nineteen-oh-blob, and a sudden thought struck the soccer executive. Rushing to the kitchen, he took the solid vial of kangaroo serum from his trousers, where it had long lain 'gainst his thigh, hot and ready to be squirted all over the shapeless, worthless iron he had found with his metal detector.

John Monie was celebrating a try, and Conway had seen the light. He had made the connection in a way that would make an electrician or something proud. Only when the kangaroo serum, the metal, and th'rugby league exist in the same moment does the goldwork reveal its majesty!

Midas Conway had done it. Forty minutes at 180 degrees, and gold Pies sit in the oven, waiting to be sold at market for vast, vast sums. There were riches untold at the fingertips of the alchemy-savvy trio.

And it so turned out that Chien Lee had long adored a Wigan (when Pangaea was a thing, Wigan and Wuhan had been two parts of the same province, but then God split the world asunder in annoyance at having been served a burnt pie) girl, so generous of bosom it was as though she had two rugby balls, pointy ends facing the world, beneath her tracksuit top (bought from DW Sports.)

"Eeeee, Cheee-en", she said. "Eef thou wants to see meh rugbeh borls, thou best get on wi' makin' th'Worry'uz th'best team in all th'world!" Smitten, and with the financial power to make her dreams come true, he set about doing so.

But nobody would believe that two Americans and a Chinese would have any interest in the Greatest Game, and so they had to deliver his buxom love's dream in a circuitous manner. First, she told him: buy a football club whose name tells me what you desire from me, and make them your instrument of destruction.

"What?" said Chien. "How am I supposed to conflate my desires for you with a football team?"

"That", she told him, "is for you to work out. I do wish I could give you a clue, though."

"And," she added, angrily as she turned her back,"thurr's only room for one team in th'horl of Wiggin. Remember to get rid of them roond-borl losers, or you'll never see me again!"

Chien spent night after night wrapped around a table-leg, crying for the loss of his love. But the point when a person's sense of abandonment can grow no larger is the point at which insight can intrude upon grief.

Lee had always wanted to lay with his Wigan/Wuhan princess in a barn - if he could find a football club which sounded like those words, he would get on with buying it the very next day. And so the purchase of Barnsley Football Club was completed.

And her words about wanting to give him a clue, though, related to the game of Cluedo. The killer of Wigan Athletic was not Reverend Green, but will surely be Billy Beane, and the atrocity is to be committed with the golden baseball-bat, in the bank.

They've tried and failed once to get rid of Wigan Athletic, purposely relegating them and putting up obstacles in their independent disciplinary commission hearing. Still, though, th'Latics would not die. But cunningly using Ganaye at their frontman, they will get their wish next time, and the tracksuited Wigan girl with the massive rugby borls will go running into Chien's arms, whilst Billy and Paul sell solid-gold pies, to be melted down, to governments all over the world. Never again will the round ball offend the eyes of Wigan locals. Everyone will live happily ever after. Kangaroos are fúcked, though.