And nor would it be anywhere near enough to persuade Levy to sell a player who is near enough the best true CM in the Prem.
SCENE: A luxurious palace
In the middle of a huge room, a figure sits on an elaborately carved throne. Garbed in sparkling white linen, he has a disdainful countenance, with a semitic nose, and eats pomegranates from the hands of a naked girl.
A commotion is heard outside. Suddenly a man bursts into the room. He is dressed in rough homespun and looks remarkably like Charlton Heston.
He strides towards the throne, halts, and looks up. 'Hail, Pharaoh', he cries in a loud voice.
A change comes over the face of the Pharaoh. A look of uneasiness. 'What ails thee now, accursed one?', he asks.
Modric's agent - for it is indeed he - raises his arms to the skies and declaims in a great voice 'Let my people go, Levi'
The Pharaoh jumps to his feet. The naked slave girl is knocked sprawling to the ground. 'Never', he says. 'Never will I let my slave Modric go.'
The man who looks like Charlton Heston raises his staff. 'If thou dost not, O Pharaoh', he says, 'ten great plagues will descend upon thy people.'
He casts his staff to the floor. To the Pharaoh's horror, the wooden rod melts before his eyes, and he is looking at a great black snake, which wriggles across the floor towards his throne.
The snake raises itself up before him, eats a pomegranate, takes a sip from the wine glass he holds in his hand, smacks its lips appreciatively, and says in a low voice with a strange burr 'Thou wilt let thy slave Modric go, Great Pharaoh. There's nae doubt about that.'