The gremlin ran onto the pitch, cackling and skipping in that way that gremlins do. He sat on the ball, crossed his arms and huffed.
"Oy!" said Beckham; "get off the ball, ya stinky gremlin!"
The gremlin huffed again, only this time more forcefully. He adjusted his bottom and crossed his arms even more tightly.
"Aah well, whatever..." said Beckham, as he took a few steps back, ran up to the ball and kicked it anyway.
The gremlin squawked, as he went flying through the air, leapt off the ball just as it entered the goal, and ended up swinging several times round the crossbar, then dangling from such by his left foot.
The crowd roared.
Beckham did that thing that footballers do, where they lift up their shirt and put it over their head.
The gremlin dropped from the crossbar and slunk off, a big gremliny sulk on his chops.
"That'll teach you to have respect for The World Cup," said Sven, to which the gremlin leapt onto his head, yanked open his jaw and filled his gob full of smelly cheese.
"Ha!" said the gremlin, as he caught the next pigeon home, satisfied at a job well done.