Could swear it was April fools day. Got into work to hear I’ve been linked with the Southampton job, like I’d ever get that. If you sack a manager with Premier League experience (who is not Gary Megson), you must have someone better lined up. Still, it gave me a chance to impress the fans. Released a statement saying how much I love the club and the town of Scunthorpe, yada yada. Should go down well.
9th September (a.m)
HANG ON. Hang on one darn minute. They actually want me. Southampton FC with all their millions actually want little old me. Sod what I said yesterday, I’m off. I’m finally getting out of the hole that is Scunthorpe. Tinie Tempah has got the right idea.
9th September (p.m)
Oh bollocks. The Saints won’t cough up any compensation. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t just walk out, I’ll get lynched at the gates if I do. Maybe it was too soon to buy that Uni-link bus pass. Crap, I’d better hide that before the chairman sees it.
Right. There comes a point in every man’s life when he has to take a stand. Gerard Butler in 300. Sylvester Stallone in Rocky. Joey Barton in court. Well this is mine dammit, and I won’t stay without a fight. Time to tell press I’m leaving the club. The big, scary, local press, with their Scunthorpe season tickets and drinking problems. Maybe I’ll get my assistant to do it…
Finally, the deal has gone through. After days of constant press scrutiny and fan rumours I’ve got the job. Wait, what’s this about them having lost three in a row? What do you mean Rickie Lambert is looking a little chubby? I thought we were promotion favourites?!