"They're tights - what the fuck..."
"Put then on, quick, this is loaded and I'll use it if I need to."
Tim was forced at gun-point in the soccer team room to put ballet tights on.
A pair of pointe shoes.
"Loop the ribbons over the front of your foot then round and round your ankle. Make a neat little knot and tuck it under the ribbons. That's it. Now the other one."
Last this. A tutu.
"What the fuck is going on?"
"Just put on the tutu. That's it. Now follow me."
The room next door was set out like a photographer's studio.
"Now I want you to stand over there with the ball and look at the camera."
"You're going to take my photo in this - but why?"
"JUST DO IT! - and smile"
The photo was taken. The gunman backed towards the door then ran out with the camera in his hand.
At this moment the rest of the team entered.
"Gotcha this time Jack."
"What's going on?"
"We had that photo taken and it'll be all over the newspapers tomorrow. That way you have to join us in the charity soccer players ballet. Its be great fun. We knew you wouldn't do it, but you're going to have to be the prima now."