The Special One

" I want a statue of me outside the ground and the club renamed to joselsea, wot you think?"

"fuck off, your fired"


Cocky, arrogant & bullish. Loved by women but disliked by many including those who employed him. Nope not me, you know who I’m talking about and more about him later.
The beauty of being unemployed at this particular time of year is one has unlimited time to watch sport on TV and the 20-20 World Cup was well worth another month on the settee. The only downer for me is on my imaginary punting spreadsheet I would have knocked the lights out, still mustn’t grumble.


Correction, I must grumble and the brunt of my moaning is directed at the ‘cheaper’ (sic) airlines.
I have worked out that over the last 12 months I am averaging a flight every two weeks (apologies environmentalists) which I think qualifies me to judge on one or two things and to say I am unhappy is an understatement.

Let’s begin with the food. It’s shite. Now normally I wouldn’t moan about this but when you have to pay 300% more for a sandwich on a plane than you would in Harrods I think this is a genuine gripe.

Next, why do the crew still try and flog duty free on the plane? Seriously, when was the last time you saw anyone stop the stewardess and ask for 200 fags and a bottle of spirits? 1978?

Lastly, and this is my biggest complaint, why oh fucking why do the cheaper airlines now bombard you the whole journey trying to sell crap? For example last week I was winging my way out of Malaga after a hectic evening and thought I would be able to grab a few minutes kip. I had managed to swerve the hard sell for food & drinks, then fought off the fools trying to sell me duty free (have they not realised duty free shops exist in airport terminals now?) and settled down for a little shut eye.
10 minutes later the PA system is cranked up full volume and some money grabbing bastard announces lottery tickets are now on sale. The message was so loud it made the ears of the women beside me bleed.

Everybody on the plane groaned and tried to get back to sleep but it went on….”Don’t forget to buy a lottery ticket”….”Scratch cards available from the stewards”…. “Crack cocaine available for 20 pounds a bag”. Ok the last one I made up but it won’t be long mark my words. I’m already waiting for the announcement “Would all passengers please be reminded that Mary, our middle aged and overweight stewardess is available for knee tremblers at a very reasonable 5 pounds per minute”.


Ryanair staff getting ready for their shift.

Need a chuckle after a rant? Then look no further than this gem on you tube which is guaranteed to make fluid seep onto your underwear without you being able to prevent it. There are about 13 or 14 of them but you can work it out for yourselves. I will never be able to look at Pat in the same way again.

http://es.youtube.com/watch?v=XVT8rhtlj6w

Two more interviews planned for next week and I am still very hopeful. Days are being spent researching and preparing for said interviews along with a little beach time. I have also begun teaching 4 local lasses the beautiful game of poker in exchange for food and wine as well as accepting a part time job as driver (more next time on that.

“The King is dead, long live the King!”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_King_is_dead._Long_live_the_King!

Well the ‘special one’ has gone and it would be remiss of me not to comment.
First of all, why all the shock? Anyone who has even a passing interest in footy knew it was a case of when not if.
Next up why can’t Roman sack him? It seems all the sympathy is for Jose but people have short memories. His inability to accept Chelsea had ever been beaten by the better team annoyed the hierarchy trying to create a ‘Chelski’ brand. Our style of football didn’t endear him to the man who has pumped in 500 million so when we have looked distinctly average lately (due to injuries) and there is a breakdown in their relationship, paying him off seemed a logical conclusion.

Of course Avram Grant has no chance, the hacks will see to that. After one game in charge he lacks charisma and tactical nouce apparently, what he needs to do is act like a petulant child, name the oppositions team beforehand and compare his team to an omelette or his players to dogs and bingo, he’s a winner. Grant appears modest, humble even and knows he probably only has this season so good luck to him.

Of course I’m grateful we had Jose as manager, I loved his fuck you attitude, the finger to the mouth gesture to Liverpool fans at the Carling cup final a couple of years ago has to go down as his finest Chelsea moment in my book but let’s not get carried away. Just because he made the journalists job easier does not make him a genius. I will miss him as will most footy fans but life goes on and as we average a new manager every two years (or have done over the last 21 years) I am well used to coping with managerial loss.

I want this badge for Christmas.

I was a huge Claudio Ranieri fan and it was he who gave me my finest moment as a Chelsea fan of 30 years so perhaps I am not as sympathetic as others due to that.
Many moons ago we had an awful record against Arsenal and unfortunately drew them in the quarter final of the Champions league. I went to the home game where luckily ‘crazy’ Jen’s gifted us a goal and we escaped with a 1-1 draw. Losing 1-0 at their place at halftime I was certain we were cooked but lo and behold, Lampard equalises and in the last minutes Eider back heels a ball through to Bridge and we are in the semis (where admittedly Claudio lost the plot and fucked up any chance we had of making the final).

I erupted on my settee. As soon as the game and interviews were over I walked to the local threshers, bought a bottle of Moet and made the short walk from my flat to the ground where I honestly thought I would be walking into a sea of celebrating fan’s, much like the scene from Fever pitch when Arsenal won the league, I was to be disappointed.

The Bridge was empty bar a few smashed up punters in the pub in the ground. I had a few ales, phoned me Mum and then left only to start chatting to the Irish bouncer on the door of the hotel within the grounds. I asked him if the players would be coming back tonight and he replied no, “they will be in their car’s mate”. 20 minutes later we are still chatting when he winks at me and tells me to wait around the corner. Being pretty sure this wasn’t some sort of homosexual proposition I did as I was told and then bang, the team bus arrives back with just Moi there to great the players.

First off was Wayne Bridge, the scorer of the winning goal,
“fucking magic Wayno!” I shout with joy only to realise almost immediately that it was not Mr Bridge but Neil Sullivan, a third string goalkeeper on loan from Spurs for the remainder of the season. He looked at me like a complete joker and hurried down into the player’s car-park.

After that faux pas things were dream like. All the players shook my hand, wished me the best and seemed genuinely surprised I was there at all. Fair play to the 3 English players, they actually stopped and had a conversation with me. Joe Cole, Frank Lampard and John Terry seemed genuinely chuffed I was there and in my excitement I gave the Moet to Terry telling him he was a colossus and had played like Bobby Moore at his best (I nicked that line from the commentator).
More handshakes and just when I thought that was it Claudio descended from the coach and was grinning at me as I did the bowing move shouting “I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy”. We hugged, a proper man hug and I kept thanking him, guess what he did? He mimicked my bowing move and told me he was not worthy.

I hugged him again and thanked him for everything; we both knew Kenyon was lining up a replacement and that this would probably be his last season unless he won the CL. The players then drove out of the car park all stopping again to shake my hand and that’s it, my happiest memory as a Chelsea fan.

Legend 1.

So what happens next? Personally I would love it if Abramovich took over, how funny would that be? It’s happened before, Hearts & Brentford from memory. Players wouldn’t dare give him any shit. Can you imagine it ‘Peta, take your hat off, your playing up front today, Sheva, your in goal”

I would rather that than any sort of ‘galacticos’ buying that has proved not to work as much as I would love to see Ronaldinho and Kaka at the Bridge. Fuck it I’m unemployed and have won a trophy as a footy manager, surely I would be a better option than some of the tossers banded about for the job and am used to dealing with skilful but highly strung footballers (bet Mourinho wouldn’t have been able to handle the lunatics involved in the Stan James squad of 2004/2005).

Also did anyone see the moron’s with there flag of ‘We want Jose back’ protesting outside the Bridge the day after, lol. You can’t beat the general pubthick at times like these. Someone must have thought,

‘I know, we paint a bloody great big banner saying we want Jose back, start booing the bloke who saved our club and get our mugs on Sky and hey presto, he will have to reemploy him’

Finally my Mother recently informed of a fascinating tale that could have changed our lives forever.
The pair of us lived in London and she decided to get me out for the sake of her sanity and my future. Being an unqualified single Mother her options weren’t exactly fantastic but never underestimate the drive and will of an Irish single mom. She joined an agency that placed housekeepers and waited for the offers.

She had a couple of interviews with old codgers looking for a wife rather than housekeeper before getting interviewed by Ronnie Barker (yep, the Ronnie Barker) as he needed someone to help look after both him and his disabled wife. She was offered the job more or less immediately but decided to fulfil her obligation to the agency by seeing the last bloke on the list. He was a single father with 4 kids, a farm manager and a thoroughly excellent bloke. Fortunately she turned down Mr Barker and our lives changed irrevocably with me moving to the country where I managed to calm down and get an education whilst she met a man (not the farm manager, someone even better) who was to become her husband and my proper Dad as well as providing me with a sister I love more than even myself. Strange how things work out eh?

With that it’s good night from me and goodnight from him.


Legend 2.