Sky bloody sports have really bollocksed me over this weekend!
I was gonna go out for a few beers with the old boys from the LMA as is tradition on a Friday night.
Now all of a sudden there’s Premier League football on and I have to go all the way up to Manchester.
Since I wasn’t allowed on my night out, I invited Reidy for a few jars at lunchtime. He is one of the few who shares my view on the importance of science in the game so it’s always good to catch up and compare notes.
He was a bit worse for wear actually and said he was suffering from chest pains after taking a little blue health supplement that would supposedly mean he could go for hours.
Although he looked in a bad way, he was full of enthusiasm about them, telling me they had given him the engine of Dele Alli and the thumping finish of Andy Carroll.
This sounded like just the edge we might need so I asked him if maybe he could get me some so I could hand them out in the dressing room before the Slovakia game.
He just laughed and handed over a bagful of the little blue fellas before leaving to go and have a lie down. Bloody softie.
I phoned Lynne and told her about these mystery pills and she got rather excited which is unusual when I’m talking shop.
She insisted I would have to test the pills myself before I could hand them out to the team and told me to bring one home with me tonight. Then she said she was off out for the afternoon to treat herself to a health spa and some retail therapy. Ha women, will I ever understand them?
My driver’s just picked me up and I’m heading north for Old Trafford. What a bloody waste of time. Four hours to watch about two English players get overwhelmed by a bunch of highly talented foreigners.
I suppose I might get a glimpse of young Rashford for five minutes once Zlatan has finished poncing round the pitch.
The worst of it is after the game I’m gonna have to listen to Jose banging on with his fucked up analogies about what makes his teams so successful – all his bullshit about good eggs and bad eggs and Waitrose and Aldi. More about pounds and Euros if you ask me.
And he always pulls out a bottle of some posh Madeira plonk instead of serving up a proper pint of bitter or bottle of whiskey. Bring back Fergie!
I’ve got to put up with his shit though, otherwise Rooney and co will all start withdrawing with niggling injuries everytime I name my squad.
Lynne has been texting me all afternoon asking what time she thinks I’ll get back and saying she’s gonna wait up for me. I wonder what’s up with her.
Monday 15 August – Is there anything more glorious than a footballer throwing himself through the air to head the ball into the net?
Friday 12 August – Chauffeur driven Bentley with a drinks cabinet and mini-fridge in the back? I’ll have some of that!
Thursday 11 August – Excited as a YTS kid who gets to clean the shit off the club captain’s boots.
Friday 5 August – A pleasing development today as a superstar from yesteryear has declared that he wants to join the good ship Allardyce.
Thursday 4 August – I love Fergie he’s my best friend, we see each other as equals. I call him Fergie, not Sir Alex, and he doesn’t mind.
Wednesday 3 August – I sent the boys in the squad an email today to introduce them to the new boss man. Very clever as it served a dual purpose.
Monday 1 August – It’s been a productive day, giving the old noggin a heavy workout with one of my intellectual pals.