Bruno Cullen is about to begin the Broncos board meeting when the boardroom door explodes inwards.

He dives under the oak table with the rest of the directors. After several seconds he emerges, coughing in the smoke-filled room where it is raining sooty copy paper.

Standing in the shattered entrance way, wearing army camouflage pants, stands a bare-chested Wayne Bennett, rocket launcher in hand and bullet belts hung over his sweaty bare chest. He is wearing a Rambo headband and his trademark surly upper lip. All the directors flee out the door.

Wayne marches in, slaps the launcher to his shoulder like a rifle drill and stamps both feet to attention.

“Mayor-General Wayne Bennett, reporting for duty!”

Bruno has a murderous look on his face.

“What in hell’s name crazy game are you playing at now, Benny! I send you and the boys away to Broncos Boot Camp at Enoggera Army Barracks and you come back as Che Guevara.”

“Consider this a war game, Bruno, and you are hereby officially conquered. As a newly self-appointed five-star general, I declare Red Hill now under martial law. I am placing you in detention in opposition’s dressing room for duration of the 2008-2009 seasons.”

“You and who’s army Benny!” Bruno says as he grabs a phone: “Security, execute Operation Blackball Benny as per the drill.”

Wayne gets on his walkie-talkie: “Bronco 1 to Daddy Warbucks, do you copy? Kenny Talbot, we’ve got incoming. Did you get me the Leopard tanks I asked for at the army disposal store? You did, and you threw in an extra battalion? That’s awfully nice of you.

“Yes, I got my monthly retainer of 10,000 big ones. Yes, it does help pay the bills. I’m just lucky that you respect my coaching so much and don’t expect anything in return other than a signed Broncos team poster.

“Look, I’ve got to go, 50 armed and dangerous men just walked in the room pointing guns at me. No, nothing I can’t handle … not when you’ve been a coach at the back-stabbing Broncos for 18 years.”

Benny and Bruno eyeball one another across the room.

“Give it up, Wayne, your little coup has failed. You should have got out and gone to the Roosters while you had the chance.”

“Don’t be so sure, Bruno, Field Marshall Webcke has the building ringed with weapons of mass destruction … the Leyburn Hotel Light Infantry – still on their end of season footy trip. Your men don’t stand a chance.”

“Then it’s a Mexican stand-off. What seems to be your problem, Benny?”

Wayne’s lip begins to quiver.

“I’m … scared. Bad people are out to get me … someone put redbacks in my sleeping bag at the barracks, and my locker came with a live grenade rigged to a trip wire attached to the locker door. Then when it came to target practice, everyone turned their guns on me. It wasn’t their fault – someone had a attached a bullseye on my back. I’ve been dodging bullets and press conferences for years, but those salvos were red hot tracers.”

“And you have a problem with all of that Benny? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I was just trying to toughen you up for the season ahead for the good of the team. Don’t you see, by declaring war on you, I take the pressure off the players. What’s the matter? You look shell-shocked.”

“That might have something to do with the 48 hours of constant mortar fire directed at my tent. So, Bruno, it’s nothing personal then … just a club strategy. Sort of friendly fire?”

“That’s right. So, see you at training Tuesday, then?”

“I’ll be there … as long as I can find my way through the minefield.”