Caleyjag

July 9th 2005.
Hello diary! Well I'm very excited, I don't know about you? Suppose you can only get as excited as the words I write in here eh. In which case this opening paragraph was pretty crap. What's that? Oh yeah, you're not a real person. Sorry.

Well here it is, day one of a new start. My first steps to becoming a millionaire and idolised by thousands of millions (maybe) of people around the world. I'm on the road to becoming a football club manager.

It's taken me 3 years to get my coaching badges (I finished in the top 5 out of our group, which is well good!) and I've sent off my CV to UEFA. They returned it back saying they don't deal with CV's but after some perseverance they told me where to send it. I assume they mean my CV otherwise it was rather rude.

I'm sitting here by my telephone waiting for a call now. It's almost the start of the new season so someone is bound to need a manager. And one that finished top 5 in their coaching class at that. (Side note: my mate Steve has taken on a coaching role at Clyde. Hahaha, what a muppet! We're having a race to see who earns more than the other at the end of this season. I'll obviously be higher up than him. I'll keep you posted on his progress too).
Tasks for today:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>
<LI>Send CV to UEFA (again!)
<LI>Defrost the freezer (can't shut the drawers without them making a horrible scraping noise against the ice. THIS IS URGENT!)
<LI>Catch up on EastEnders.
</UL>13th July 2005.
The Champions League qualifiers have just started. Wish I was there. Next season Dave! Looking at the teams the only one I'd realistically manage is Liverpool. The rest are pretty rubbish. Glentoran? That's a whisky isn't it?

It's been a week now. I'm assuming UEFA have faxed my CV to all it's member clubs. I checked the UEFA website and noticed that they cover 32 nations. Fook that! I've taken out a year's lease on this flat so can't move very far. Certainly not to Latvia. Ideally I'd probably look at managing Inverness Caledonian Thistle or Aberdeen. Any further afield costs a lot in petrol.


28th July 2005.
Almost a month now, so far nothing! I've looked at the clubs needing managers and a newly formed team called Inverness Metros are looking for one. I won't go for it though. Nah, you see, it's the Scottish Third Division and teams starting off their rarely have any money. I need money for my team. I'll email UEFA later on and see what's going on. The domestic season is starting very soon and I need to be in place before then to stand a chance of getting my team promoted (or winning the Premier League, depending on the team that comes for me).

Margaret next door baked me a cake to congratulate me on getting my coaching licence. It's baked in the shape of a car, but it's the thought that counts. I binned it, tasted crap. Her husband Jeff coaches the local school's under-12's. He joked that if nothing comes up soon I can always come along and put out the cones. Cheeky b****rd. I've a good mind to sh*t in his letterbox. But I won't. Not after he caught me last time.

20th August 2005.
Popped along to the under-12's training with Jeff as had nothing better to do in all honesty. In fact I haven't been out of the flat in about a week, I've started rationing food so it's lasting longer, money is getting a wee bit tight and I might need to dip into my savings soon. Was going to use it for signing-on fee's if we wanted a big name player, I've been saving for 5 years now, almost a grand in the bank.

I stood with the parents on the touchline as the training went under way. In the afternoon there was a game on so I thought I'd stay for that too. A number of fathers asked who I was as they hadn't seen me before. I told them I was a club manager and just came along to have a look at what was going on. They were impressed that a manager went along in person and not his scouts. I shrugged as if to say “it's no trouble”. I think they bought it. I felt quite important.

The game itself was pretty poor. It was like watching Highland League football, I made a mental note not to sign any of these lads when they get a bit older as they were p*ss-poor. Anybody that skies a ball into a neighbouring field will never make it as a professional. I felt quite proud at taking my first managerial decision since getting my licence and to celebrate I went into town with Jeff and got p*ssed.

21st August 2005.
Dear god what have I done?! Checked my emails this morning and it appears that when I got in last night I applied for a job at River in Brazil. They are in the Brazilian 3rd division!!! I can't go there, I mean, what about my flowers, they need watered every day. And not to mention Brazil is a whole other country entirely. I can't speak Brazilian!

I spoke to Jeff and he said I was so drunk that he had to write and send the email for me. I was apparently adamant that I wanted to send it that night and got quite aggressive when he wouldn't do it for me. Oh god. God, god, god, god, god, GOD!

I checked the net to find out information on River, Google is goddam awful, it kept on returning results for River Plate, the Argentinian team. Jeff said he thought that's who he sent the email to. THANKS A LOT JEFF!!!!

7th September 2005.
No world from River yet thankfully. Hopefully they've got spam filters or something to block the email. hunglikeahorse@gmail.com shouldn't have any trouble getting blocked. Hmmm... that might explain why I've had no word from any clubs yet. Maybe they think it's a joke. I'll sign up another email address and try again. Ah well, looks like every cloud has a silver lining as they say.

At the under-12's training I had a father continuously bug me about his son. He wanted to know what club I was from and if his son had any chance at the game. I told him his son had more chance of scoring when he turned 16. Don't think he understood the joke and he instead passed on his phone number to my “secretary”. Who, it turns out, was a single mother standing next to me.

Ran out of soap today, don't really want to dip into my savings so had to use a double dose of Lynx to mask the odour (hot water by itself doesn't cut it, and using toothpaste was just down-right weird, not doing that again).

If things don't pick up soon I might need to sign-on! (Don't worry, that's a joke).


19th September 2005
I f***ing signed on.

26th September 2005
Had a meeting at the Job Centre. According to them, you need to be actively seeking work to collect your dole money. I told them of my attempts to gain work over the last 2 months and they did seem impressed until they found out it was a managerial post at a football club. To them, it wasn't what constitutes a “real job” so I had to lower my standards. Assistant Manager wasn't acceptable either and I have no intention of finding myself below Steve's standards (who, by the way, is doing alright, but had to get a job at Tesco to help pay for his mortgage, such a loser.)

I've got another meeting in a months time to find out how I am doing, and I've got a selection of print-outs from this program they ran with me that is meant to find out jobs that suit my strengths. It's a load of b*ll*cks as “Club Manager” wasn't amongst any of the results. Was quite impressed that “Media Work” was there though. Opportunity to become a pundit for next years World Cup a la Gordon Strachan looks closer now.

Got an email titled “Are You A Football Manager?” today. I was all excited until I found out it was about a b****rd computer game from SEGA. I replied asking if they thought that was funny? Nothing back yet but I'll let you know if they email again.

1st November 2005.
I can't take this for much longer. It's closing on to almost half a year since I left my job and still no sign of a managerial post at a club. In a panic I randomly phoned up the first club that had sacked their manager that I noticed on the BBC website. Athlone Town. Where is that? Ireland or something? Bah, I just need a job really bad. Margaret next door took over cookies and I was almost tempted to eat them. Things have never been this bad before.

The chairman of Athlone Town asked me to send in my CV. I told him UEFA should have already forwarded it on. He laughed and asked if he was on Beadle's About. I told him I didn't know what that was, but would forward on my CV as it was obviously misplaced by his secretary.

Speaking of secretaries, the single mother and that father at the under-12's finally got together. I don't think either of them knows about the misunderstanding that brought them together but they seem happy enough. His son is now on the books at Aberdeen. Ha! More fool them!
I've asked Jeff if I could take part in the training some weekends. I might as well share my talents with the kids as it's clearly obvious that they need the training and more importantly it gives me exposure as someone that can work with kids. That's a plus point on my CV straight away.

I asked UEFA if it's possible to include that I finished in the top 5 in my class when I got my coaching licence on my CV. They said they don't deal with CV's (it was a woman that answered, I think she was new) and that as far as she knew, UEFA's licencing didn't have a points system and that is was just a pass or fail type of thing. I'm going to include it anyway, because I clearly remember being called a “top” man when I got my certificate, along with 4 other blokes. The others just got told “good work”. Including Steve!

Late entry: I applied to become manager of a team called Angers in France. I think I'll continue the theme of applying to clubs based on my current feelings for that particular day. Sexdrega in Sweden is next on the list. It's been a year.

16th November 2005.
My application to become the new manager of Angers was unsuccessful. They hired some French guy instead. A bit racist hiring somebody because of their nationality, and I let them know what I thought. They dismissed my accusations and thanked me again for applying. Smelly French tw*ts.

20th November 2005.
Applied for a job at SpVgg Greuther Fürth in Germany. More for a laugh than anything. In my email I asked if they could phone me back regarding my application. I want to know how to pronounce the name so I sound more intellectual when talking about clubs from other parts of the world. I hope they see the funny side.

Margaret and Jeff were very kind and lent me money to get some Christmas shopping done. They'll get paid back double when I finally land a job I told them, but Jeff said that it's fine, and that he felt he owed me something for taking the kids training session when he went on holiday to Tenerife a couple of weeks back. Does this technically count as me getting paid work as a footballing coach? I've put it down as a yes. Going to see Steve tomorrow to see how he's getting on, and if he's close to matching the £50 wages that I just got from Jeff. Bet he gets paid in peanuts at Clyde. Hahaha.

21st November 2005.
Steve called to say he couldn't meet me today. He's looking at getting a new car or something. I think he means downgrading his old model to something more affordable. Anyway, it means I can catch up on some sleep. By my way of thinking if I store up on lots of sleep before getting a job then I won't be as tired taking charge of a team. Much like how a camel stores water. Began to wonder if I would develop humps if I did this long enough. Wouldn't look good for interviews would it. Decided tonight is my last night of stocking up on sleep in case I start to become deformed.

26th November 2005.
SpVgg Greuther Fürth emailed me back (yes emailed!) to say my application was unsuccessful. Guess I'll never know how to pronounce it now. Bet it pronounced “Spyergen Gyergen” or something equally as daft.

Tasks for today:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>
<LI>Email another club that has no manager to see if they require my services.
<LI>Arrange another appointment for Job Centre.
<LI>Politely ask Margaret to stop baking me cakes.
</UL>Steve got the new Mondeo. Wonder how much his loan is as there is no chance he could afford it on the pittance he gets at Clyde.


20th December 2005.
I'm in a spot of desperation now. No sign of work, so I'm going to whore myself around as many clubs as I can to see if I can get a job. Just... anything! I need work! But only as a manager, to hell with coaching, it's too much hard work for little money.

In total I put my CV to 11 clubs, most in Europe although there was that one in Brazil that Jeff did for me. Still no word on them but I'll keep them as a possibility for now. All I want is a club for Christmas. Please, please, please... anyone? Santa?

I met up for the under-12's training before the schools break for Christmas today, I've been asked to take them officially as Jeff is retiring and his back has been playing up recently. I said I'd gladly help out but if a job comes along I'll have to leave immediately. I'm not getting paid for it unfortunately but as I've said before, it's exposure. I'm hopeful that a club scout can come along and we can network. Maybe get a manager post out of it? I can dream...


1st January 2006.
Here's to a new year, and hopefully a more prosperous one than the last. My resolutions in no particular order are:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>
<LI>Get a club manager job
<LI>See if I can wangle a pundits job for the World Cup (realistically local radio)
<LI>Earn more money than Steve before the season ends
<LI>Drink less
</UL>Three of those are definitely achievable this year, although the drinking one will be tough. Especially if my team are winning trophies all the time.

I spent my Hogmanay in town with people I didn't know. I couldn't afford a ticket to get into the more “high-brow” establishments so had to make do with the bar with only one toilet and feeling like I'm in a cattle market. I wish I had tits so I could flash the barman to get served. Was a nightmare. Not even drunk which maybe is a good thing in case I send off any more silly emails.

4th January 2006.
Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee e! Got a new pair of trainers, a notebook (handy for when I'm making notes on the touchline) and a warm jacket. Oh, and a f***ing cake from Margaret.

7th January 2006.
Really depressed today. Almost exactly 6 months since I started this diary which was meant to be an account of my rise to the top. This was to make it easier to write my autobiography as I know a lot happens in football so writing it all down certainly helps.

Although it helps even more if I had a club to write about. I really don't care where I end up now. UEFA aren't replying to any of my emails, maybe because of the holidays, maybe because I've annoyed them so often. I don't know what to do with myself anymore. Should I give up and look for a job away from football? Surely anything can be better than sitting around waiting for the phone to ring.

I got a score of 218 in Solitaire this morning by the way. Not bad.


22nd January 2006.
Graham Roberts got sacked as Clyde manager today. Immediately I threw my hat into the ring, and found out Steve had done the same. Really this is no contest and I'm feeling pretty damn confident of finally landing a job. Better start looking out for some houses round the area. Clyde – here I come!


26th January 2006.
Well the Clyde job never came off for myself or Steve, but guess what? I've been offered the mangers job of Farnborough Town!!! Yeah, I know, I can't believe it either. They've offered me a 3 year deal, at £180 a week, but I'm going to try and push for a bit more. After all, I'm one of the top 5 coaches in the country. I want no less than £250 a week, and obviously a bit more transfer money. I'm all excited now!!!!

This is it diary, this is the step to glory I've been waiting for!


27th January 2006.
You're looking at the new manager of Farnborough Town, worth a staggering £220 a week. This is such a thrill, to be finally involved at a high level in football and more importantly I'm earning twice as much as Steve is at Clyde.

There wasn't a press conference which was a bit disappointing but I did chat to a reporter for the local paper in which I told him what deal I was on (being careful not to mention my wage) and what my aim for the club was.

The chairman Tony Theo seemed a nice enough chap, although I'm not sure if that was his real name as I think he had a lisp. When we chatted he explained that my job was to secure the future of the club, to basically make sure we don't go bust. We're 4 points off the bottom of Conference South so we've to ensure relegation is avoided.

I feel like Superman.


28th January 2006.
My first game in charge was against league leaders Weymouth, one helluva challenge, and this was my first chance to prove just how much I had learnt at Largs when I earned my badges.
I had a tactic all set out in my head, one that I felt would be my standard for years to come and one that I wanted my players to fit into. If they didn't work in my tactic then they were out the door. This was my system and I'm sticking to it.

We won 1-0! I couldn't believe it, I really couldn't. Considering they had umpteen-million chances to our umm.... five. And our defending was atrocious, I really needed to sort that out. Besides all that, it was a win. And it was the perfect start to my managerial career.

Beat that Steve!


13th May 2006.
It's been such a great experience this season, and I've had to deal with the jubilation of clearing away from the relegation zone and pure just.... guttedness (check that's a word?) because we came within an ants pube of getting into the play-off's. In the end it wasn't to be but it didn't stop us from celebrating at the end of the campaign. Let's be honest, it's not exactly Chelsea, but Farnborough is a good a place as any to cut your managerial cloth.

I haven't started planning for next season yet. Although I do have a few players waiting to have contracts finalised before I prepare for a push for promotion next year.

There was an interview with the local radio station earlier in which he seemed to think that the fans were putting trust in me to push the club up through the division next year, which is always nice to hear. I made a mention of my top 5 placement being of obvious benefit to Farnborough just in case there was anyone listening that was looking for a manager. I don't plan on sticking around the lower divisions for long. Not after the brilliant start I've made:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>
<LI>Started 20th. Finished 11th.
<LI>Earnings for this year: £3,300 before tax.
<LI>Played 18, Won 9, Drawn 4, Lost 5.
<LI>Gained 5 pounds in weight, 10 more grey hairs noticeable.
</UL>Planning a trip home to Inverness over the summer now that the season is over. It's going to be funny heading back there now that I'm a celebrity. I'll probably get stopped in the streets and have women all over me. I wonder how Alex Ferguson deals with it. Maybe I should phone him and get some advice, lots of other managers do it and now I'm “one of them” perhaps I should start living the life a bit more.

I officially earned more money than Steve this season too. It didn't help that he was laid off last week because Clyde got relegated. So now he's no work at all (Tesco was temporary). I told him that when I negotiate my next contract I'll send him something to get him by.

It's the World Cup soon as well. I've given up on the whole pundit idea, the local radio down here said they couldn't afford to cover it. I did suggest maybe just have me describing what was happening on the TV but they waved that idea away. I bet it's because I'm Scottish. Snooty b****rds. Hope their c**try loses now. And yes that is an intentional spelling mistake! That being said, England is a lovely country to live in.


12th June 2006.
Back in Inverness now. Got a late train so that I wouldn't get harassed by people if it was busy. Guy in the taxi had Under Pressure by Queen on (the one with David Bowie). I thought it was quite a good song to have if they ever do a documentary about me. I don't mean Queen doing a documentary of course, I mean a TV company. Although Queen would be ace to do a soundtrack for it. And the revenue generated from an album release would be huge! Anyway... the documentary could have me setting off in my Porsche to work and then do a montage of me on the touchline looking stressed with that song playing. And at the end it shows a winning goal and me celebrating winning a trophy. It was a good idea, and I'm glad I've taken a note of it here so I can use it in future. I'll tell the production staff about it when they are doing the story boards.

Edit: Would “We Are The Champions” be too much? It's another Queen song but it would go well in another part of the documentary.

Popped in to see Jeff and Margaret. Both are doing fine. Jeff still goes along to watch the kids play football although obviously doesn't take part in the training any more. I asked him how the papers up here were portraying me but he said he hadn't noticed anything in the papers here although he was sure it was all nice things. Margaret said that Jeff only reads the Financial Times and the Sunday Sport. To be fair, if I was in any of those I'd be a bit worried (or curious) as to what they were writing about me.

Had a few beers and then popped into the flat to check for any mail. There was a lot. A few from the Job Centre asking me to make another appointment and another to say that since I hadn't come in to see them they had suspended my dole money. I did think about phoning them to complain but there isn't much point as I'll be earning enough to see me by soon enough anyway. Jeff said later that blind optimism isn't necessarily a good thing. I replied saying I'm just a naturally positive person who never thinks of the glass being half empty. Quick as a flash he says that there isn't any thinking on my part before the glass gets half empty. I think he was talking about alcohol. Oh Jeff, such a character.


19th June 2006.
Checked the papers and the internet to see if there was any news about me. I did find one thing which I've printed out and kept in a scrapbook of a small “News In Brief” article on the BBC Sport site that says:

“METROS Farnborough Town boss Murchison
secures signings of three youth players
from cashless Inverness side”


How cool is that!! It linked to other stories about Metros saying that officials at the SFA were investigating something to do with their chairman and something about foreign donations of some sort. All looked a bit dodgy to me, so I'm very glad I stayed clear of offering myself to become manager of that club.

Phone call from the chairman Tony Theo (Seo?) to tell me that the club accountant has said that there will be no money for transfers for next season so we should look at getting the youth players to have some first team experience. We've to try and get mid-table again. I can't wait to see his face in May when we win the league.


19th July 2006.
Getting set for the new season back in Farnborough now. Had a look at getting a flat down in the area but also took out a new lease on the one back home. Now that I'm a manager I'm really supposed to have two homes. It's quite expensive down here so at Christmas if we're doing well I'll probably ask for a new contract so I can afford something a bit better than what I can currently get.
Signed a few more Metros lads. Seems that they're the only players willing to sign for me. Not complaining though, they seem to know their stuff.

I asked Steve if he fancied coming down here to coach at the club. I took pity on him. His wife recently left him, and he's had to sell his house as he can't get any well paid work in Clyde. He said he'll think about it, and asked if there was any fit women down here. I said there was but I haven't really been looking. Just wanted to perk him up a bit. Poor lad, imagine your wife running off with a one-legged lesbian. With some difficulty I bet.

Pre-season is well under way here. It's been good weather so we've been starting quite early in the morning to get the fitness back up. As is typical, we've all been playing practical jokes on each other for team bonding. Since England lost in the semi-finals of this years world cup I smeared sh*t on every Englishman's shirt in the dressing room, just to prove a point.

Wasn't one of my better jokes if I'm honest, but the ex-Metro's lads seemed to find it funny. 5 Scots, one Italian. Although he's probably the b****rd offspring of a one night stand when his mum went on holiday as he can't speak a word of his nations language. He doesn't even know what “Pizza” translates as.


24th August 2006.
Start to the season hasn't gone quite as I had planned. We've yet to win any of our games and we're almost a month in now. I told the lads that this was unacceptable and that if this was some sort of payback for the shirt & sh*t incident then it's gone on long enough.

We lost our most recent game 4-0 and the board made it clear to me that we've to start improving results immediately. I totally agree with them, and will be having words with our club scout and ask him why he keeps recommending me sh*t players all of the time. It's not on. Especially since I trust his judgement and sign about 50% of those that he believes would be good for the club.

I can not and will not take responsibility for the way the club has performed recently. I know it's not my fault, and now I have to use my man-management skills to turn things around. I did it amazingly last year when I came in and saved the club from relegation, and it looks like I'm going to have to do it again. Earlier than I thought too.

Moved in with the club physio for a few weeks until I find a place for myself down here. He's a nice chap, but there are a lot of steps to get to where he lives in his block. The elevator is broken and has been for the last 5 years he says, but the estate is so run down that the council won't come to fix it as it just gets vandalised all the time. I asked why he didn't do something about it, but it turns out it's his two kids that are the culprits. I'll be having words with them.

Phone call from Steve earlier as well. He's coming down once I get a place sorted out. I've let him stay in my flat back home so it gets looked after. He's got a dog now and I'm a bit uncomfortable with the thought of it shagging my sofa so I asked Jeff and Margaret to pop in every so often. Maybe combine it with a baked cake so as not to add suspicion.


28th August 2006.
Interesting day today, I got contacted from the head honcho at Drøbak/Frogn asking me if I'd be interested in heading over to Norway to manage their club. Obviously word of my management skills are beginning to spread across Europe, so quick as a flash I've arranged to travel over their for talks. Wish me luck.


29th August 2006.
Talks went well and I'm now the new manager at Drøbak/Frogn! I'm on £80 a week which is fine because Norway is quite a poor country so I won't have any trouble getting a place out here. We're 10th in the league at the moment (Second Division Group 1) but I don't think I'll have any trouble improving that position between now and the end of the season.

Steve phoned asking where I was as he had popped down to Farnborough on a surprise visit to see me (ouch!). I told a little white lie saying I was out doing some shopping. In Paris. I'd be back within the day so just to have a look around the town and do some sightseeing. I'll phone him later and say there are lorries blocking the Channel Tunnel later on so I'll be stuck in Paris for a few days. It'll buy me some time to work out what to tell him. He's a bit fragile. His dog died 2 days ago.

The players at the club look fitter than the ones back in England and the quality of the training complex is far superior because when it rains we just go into the local Sports Centre to train. It's HUGE! Definitely a step up for me.


3rd September 2006.
Had a dream the night before the game about a giant turtle swimming across the ocean to see me to let me know all it's eggs had been eaten by a shark. It was crying which was impressive as turtles can't cry. I can't remember what I said to it but I ended up on a boat with that guy from Jaws, not the main one, but the bearded one and we were trying to catch the shark to get the eggs back. Then in the distance Gentle Ben came swimming towards us, climbed on the boat and threw a spear that killed the shark.

We opened the shark up and found a gold watch but no eggs. IT WAS THE WRONG SHARK!
Maybe my dream is trying to tell me that I'm going after clubs too blindly and instead should plan what club (shark) I want to go for. Maybe the turtle is God helping pointing me in the right direction.
If that's so then why tell me to go to the shark (club) with turtles eggs, and not the one with the gold watch, as the gold watch one is obviously richer. f***ing turtles.

Lost first game in charge 6-0 to Bærum and it officially becomes the worst defeat in the clubs history.


4th September 2006.
Two voicemails from Steve. He's wondering where I am. He's no money to get home and starts a new job in less than 3 days. I haven't replied yet. If I pretend he never contacted me then the problem will surely go away.


1st October 2006.
Two games of the season left and after the disappointment of losing 6-0 in my first game I've managed to turn the club around and steer us well clear of relegation. We're one victory away from sealing a top-half finish and in many ways I feel this is a bigger achievement than what I achieved at Farnborough during my 6 months. The squad is half the size and Farnborough were always vying for that mid-table position whereas here we're thankful if we stay up in all honesty.

It's also confirmed my belief that I really am a manager that can win a team results when the chips are down. At 2 clubs in succession I've shown that I can be summoned in to ensure a club can move safely away from the drop.

I'm hopeful we can go out on a high this season, which has come quite suddenly. I didn't realise that Norwegian football gets played at a different time of year to other European nations. It's just a real pity that there is only 1 promotion place available, no wonder all the teams here are part-time, it's impossible to survive otherwise. Especially with 3 relegation spots snapping at your heels. It really is an unnecessary pressure cooker in this division.

4th October 2006.
I haven't heard from Steve in about a month now, so I thought I'd call him and leave him a message. Really wasn't sure what to say so concocted a story about how whilst I was in Paris, the Farnborough chairman mentioned that perhaps I could use the cheap air-fairs to fly over to Norway to conclude contract talks with a player we had been watching.

Whilst there I got a terrible virus and it meant that I couldn't travel (back and forth to the toilet every 5 minutes, vomiting etc.) I went on sick leave but as the club are part-time they couldn't give me sick pay and for 2 weeks I had to live on the streets of Oslo fighting for the dead remains of rats with the other beggars that litter the backstreets.

To make ends meet I plucked up the courage to steal a suit from a menswear store to replace the rags that I had worn and went to a job interview for the managers job at a football club 20 miles down the road. The roads were treacherous, and at times I collapsed due to starvation and dehydration before I dragged myself through the front doors of the stadium and mouthed the name of the chairman.

He came down to meet me and was so impressed at my courage and determination that I got the job instantly. The chairman felt that if I put even half the effort into managing the club as it took me to say “thank you” to him afterwards that I was definitely the man to lead his team to glory.

I spent a few days regaining my strength in the local hospital and the first thing I asked for when I was fit enough was a telephone so I could tell Tony Theo the whole story and to apologise for leaving his club in the lurch like that.

He thanked me for what I had done to the club in the short time I was there, and hand on heart we both shed a tear or two as we knew our paths may never cross again. He said that he felt he owed me a great deal for last seasons performance and if there was anything he could do for me, I just had to say the word.

I told him of a man I know, who travelled a long way with no money, no home, no family and nothing but a drive and determination to succeed. Tony should ignore him, and instead look out for a man called Steve. He should take him on as their new manager because he needs something to keep him from jumping off the nearest bridge.

Tony said he'd grant my wishes, and we left on good terms. My phone call to Steve was to check he was settling in okay in his new job, and to wish him all the best. But wait... what's that? He never got the job? You mean Tony went back on his promise to me? Why the little scumbag!

Hehehehe. Simply brilliant.

22nd October 2006.
The season has ended and we finished 4th in the league which is absolutely fantastic and I feel over the moon right now. We might have sneaked 3rd had we not conceded a very late goal to draw 1-1 with Frigg. This is far better than anyone associated with the club could have imagined and we thoroughly deserved the p*ss up we had last night.

This has been my best run of results since being in management and although we didn't win our last game, our goal was one of the best I had seen since my time here. It was a team effort with some slick passes. I asked someone in the crowd if they knew if the game was being recorded but they laughed at me. I guess games this low down don't get the coverage that I feel they deserve.

Career statistics so far:<UL TYPE=SQUARE>
<LI>Played 29, Won 13, Drawn 7, Lost 9.
</UL>At the end of this season we were the number one team on form. Winning four and drawing one of our last 5 games. In fact, since I arrived and forgetting that 6-0 defeat, we've been unbeaten during my reign. Not bad, not bad at all.

It's too expensive to fly back home right now so I'm planing on going sightseeing whilst the team are on holiday. I haven't really explored Norway much since I came here but I'm determined to see what the place is like, and also check out what other football clubs there are around here. It's not been long but I feel more settled here than I did in England. I think it's to do with the media being less arrogant about their national team. Probably because the Norwegian team is really crap just now.

I asked the chairman how many weeks we've got until we've to start getting the lads ready for the next season. We don't start again until May! But pre-season starts again in December. Christmas day to be exact. Bit of a p*ss-poor time to start if I'm honest, but hey! We've got 4 months of training? Come next season I'm going to have a team full of super-fit athletes. Promotion here we come!


25th October 2006.
Message from Steve. He pawned his mobile off a month ago to get money for some food. He's now living off Salvation Army soup and busking every day to keep himself from starving. When I told him about the job at Farnborough he burst into tears and hung up. Poor lad. If only he had kept his mobile he may have a managers job now (joke).


19th November 2006.
Hello from Drøbak! It's nice and sunny here, if a bit cold (think my knob has fallen off, been p*ssing icicles the last fortnight).

Okay, so yeah, I didn't travel outside the town but that's down to lack of funds rather than being a lazy arse. Really need to start saving the money up as I don't fancy living the same life I did this time last year.

I've done a wee bit of networking, and I've become quite a local celebrity around here. I've yet to receive any freebies like a power-shower or a bag of coal or something but it's only a matter of time. I'm known as “Scotchman” around here. The locals seem to think that's my favourite tipple. I thought I'd play a wee joke on them and asked for some Bacardi Breezers instead. As well as been stung for the equivalent of five quid a bottle, I got hit on by some fat b****rd in a string vest. And it wasn't Rab C Nesbitt. Turns out I had been frequenting a gay bar for the last week. In fact, the amount of gay people in Drøbak averages more per hundred people than anywhere else in Norway. Did you know that? Because I f***ing didn't. Did I!

I've found the place to be very warm and welcoming, albeit there are far too many old people, a bit disappointing as I wanted to show the Norse women why Scottish beef is renowned throughout Europe. I'm telling you, once a lass gets their gums around those plums they don't go back.

There are a number of youth teams that play through the winter months, not as many as play during spring/summer of course, but the youth players that play in winter are more likely to be snapped up by clubs around these divisions because our season is just starting and these young guys are already fit and can give a great boost to the start to your season.

Unfortunately we'll never know how good these kids are as I sent my scout over to the UK over the winter break to have a look for players and I can't be arsed heading to watch them as I have to pass that gay bar to get to the fields. Getting taunted and called “Scotty Poof” whilst they all slap their arses in a bucking-bronko fashion isn't nice. I shouldn't have to deal with that, and will probably go to the police about it at some point.


21st December 2006.
Spending Christmas here isn't all that bad I suppose. There is a great sense of community about the place and I've been doing my bit with a few of the more well-known players we have on the books visiting the sick children in hospital. I feel really privileged to be a part of this, and a few photographs were taken. They were only for the local newspaper but I hear it goes out to about a dozen different towns around this area so at least my face is getting seen by more people. Oh, and the kids, I'm helping the kids too. Most important.

I'm spending Christmas dinner at the club, a kind of half corporate dinner, half dinner with the chairman and his wife. It's really nice to be a part of something like that, I just hope I don't embarrass myself as I don't know much about stocks and shares and the positions of the markets etc.

The Chairman Lennart Beijer (I call him Lenny) said I was more than welcome to bring a guest and like a fool I said to keep a spare seat at our table as I'd be more than happy to bring someone along.

She was 50, and the best I could do on such short notice. I've never met anyone that can smell of dog hairs even though they don't own a dog, it was amazing. Every so often she'd burst into a broken English version of Imagine by John Lennon. I could cope with that, but she was foot stomping and trying (badly I might add) to play the spoons. She only did this when I was getting into a conversation with other people.

I did well with the sponsors when it came to talking money. I just nodded, did the “uh huh, oh really, yeah, I had heard that mmm-hmm” kind of vague talking as well as the tut-tutting when it seemed appropriate. No raised eyebrows, no look of confusion on their faces, I pulled it off. Well done Dave!

There was a wee bit of dancing going on, which to my utter disbelief wasn't like traditional dancing like the kind you get back home at Christmas. Nah, this lot danced to reggae. REGGAE!!! They had a tape player in the corner, stuck it on and we had 2 hours of the stuff. Not wanting to look out of place, myself and the wrinkly dog-smelling wierdo got up and tried our best. I've never heard John Lennon sung in a more bizarre situation before. Freakily the drums gave it a more modern feel, and it crazily worked! It's tradition to do this every year Lenny says. Because the club was founded by a “jungle man” (his words, not mine) almost 80 years ago, we had to pay respects to him.

The closest thing I can compare this to is that Fat Boy Slim song with whatshisname from Batman Returns in it. It was that sort of dancing, in that sort of suit and tie. And these guys were no spring chickens. They made dear old b*ll*ck-breath seem like a mere teenager.

I've never had a Christmas like it.


3rd January 2007
My head feels like it's been belted over the head by a brick wall. I've very little recollection over the last fortnight after our Christmas party. Although I did wake up the next morning with a condom stuck to my face. Without thinking I threw it straight out of my bedroom window, now I'm worried if I used it on that 50 year or worse yet, someone used it on me!

I crawled out of my bed and looked down at the floor, there was empty bottles everywhere. The worrying thing was none of it was alcohol. It was Calpol. That stuff you give kids when they are ill. No wonder my head hurt. I think I must have drunk 10 bottles of the stuff.

At about 11am I made my way out of the house to get some bread and milk. On my way I had to pass that gay bar. Being early in the morning it was pretty empty but the regulars were out in force, still celebrating the new year. I bet they've not even been home yet.

Lenny, the chairman was in the shop picking up some things as well. He seemed very chirpy and greeted me with a wink and a smile. There was something not quite right about a man acknowledging another man in that way. I smiled back and shuffled over to the dairy section, trying to make sure I was hidden from his view.

I pretended to look at the calories in a fruit yoghurt whilst glancing to see if he was looking at me. I caught him looking over then giving a wave. Bugger waving back I thought.

At 2pm I crawled back into bed to try and shift my headache. It didn't pass, and it's now just going on 11pm as I'm writing this entry. I haven't tidied up yet, I'm leaving the place exactly as is to see if it can jog my memory on anything.


10th January 2007
First day back at training today. Until now I'd managed to avoid Lenny but I knew he'd be at the sports complex to greet the team as they arrived one by one. I had noticed him standing at the front door, suit and tie on, all smiles and handshakes to all the players.

I suppose it was a nice idea, to make the players feel more attached to the club, to show that the chairman cared about the place and the staff, but it kept niggling in the back of my mind – was he scouting for another victim of Calpol induces homosexual shenanigans? In a way I hoped so. It would let me off the hook. I could be one if his notches on the bedpost and nothing further.

Training went alright, there was no laughing and joking in the morning. I wanted to drill it into the lads heads that we were gunning for promotion this year. It's better to think ultra-positive in situations where you're trying to avoid relegation. Raise the bar even higher to push you to give an extra effort in games.

Most of the lads were in good shape, better than they had been when I had come in. They were definitely up for it this season. I have a good feeling that we could shock a few people if we steer clear of injuries.


24th January 2007
“Dear Dave,

Thank you very much for your letter you sent to us. As you can no doubt understand, we get lots and lots of letters from people from all over the UK and because we always try to send out a personal response letter back it takes a while for us to get through them all.

Unfortunately, Jim'll Fix It is no longer on the air, so you're request to be the manager of a football club for a day can not be fulfilled. We thank you for your letter and hope that you managed to live your dream out through other means.

Claire Gibbons
Head of Childrens Entertainment
British Broadcasting Corporation”

I forgive you Jim.


16th February 2007
I've had a very strange couple of days dear diary. First off, on the 14th I get a note through the door just with a big X on it. I didn't click straight away that it was Valentines Day so it puzzled me for a good while until I clicked. Then on the 15th I get ten more through the door. ONE EVERY HOUR!!!

I have no idea what's going on, but it freaked me out enough to contact Lenny on his mobile to find out where he was and what he was up to just as the eighth one popped through my door. I realised my mistake of contacting him too late as he said he was thrilled to be getting a personal call from me. I had to make an excuse to hang up on him. I fobbed him off some rubbish about a fat dog has just crashed through my roof and I needed to make sure it was okay. He sounded quite stunned about it, as you would do if someone broke that sort of news to you.

So it wasn't Lenny, I worked out. Who was it? I didn't dare ask around the town in case they all thought I was nuts, or hell, maybe it's just another of those bizarre “Jungle Man” rituals the club has every year. I'll keep you posted.


3rd March 2007
Nothing has come through for over 2 weeks now, so I'm putting it down to some kids that have nothing better to do with their time than mess around. I bet they're kids from another town, fans of one of our rival clubs. Once I find out who they were I'll hammer their team 10-0 or something pretty damn close to that.

We've completed our pre-season friendlies now. Most were against higher opposition and whilst we only won one of our four games, we played pretty well in all but one of them. Our fitness levels over 90 minutes are quite low just now, despite being in good physical shape, and I can't help but thinking we should have had a few more games before the season started.

There was sad news for me today too. Do you remember Steve? Myself and him were having a competition to find out who could earn the most money in our careers as managers. Well after losing his job, his wife, his house and eventually his car the inevitable happened. He took a job at Stenhousemuir. Their in the 3rd division in Scotland for crying out loud, and he's on LESS than he was at Clyde. HAHAHAHAHAHA, I'm actually laughing through my fingers. Watch. HAHAHAHAHAAAAA. That was a long laugh. AHA. That was me finishing my laugh.

I got in contact with him last week as he was staying in my flat. He's now living with 5 students. Yes, all in my flat. I told him that the flat was due to be vacated shortly and you got the feeling that just when he was finding his feet, I had pulled the rug out from beneath him.

Feeling sorry for him, I phoned up Stenhousemuir and asked if they'd be willing to let me have the services of Steve out here in Norway. I was told they'd gladly let him go, and that was by the secretary! Well, that was my good dead I thought, and next week, Steve should have a contract offer to join me out here. It's the least I could do for a mate really.


26th March 2007
Well it's been sorted. Steve is now a coach with us out here, and I immediately made sure he knew who was boss by making him put out the cones in the rain. He complained that it was the young lads that did this after their under-21 training was over so I gave him a big speech about how I've been here longer than him and that this was the way I do things around here. My assistant, the little swine, didn't back me up and went to help Steve out with the cones, giving a sly look back in disgust at me. I showed him the finger, smiled and went back into my office.

After setting out the cones, Steve came in to chat. We caught up with what we'd both been up to since we completed our coaching badges, me trying to skip past all his bad times, him trying to skip over all my good times in case it sent him into a deeply depressive mind-set. So for 2 hours of conversation we talked for only 10 minutes, the rest of time just standing in silence, staring out of the window oggling any nice women that happened to pass by.

Though he didn't say anything, I knew he was grateful to me for giving him a break out here. A fresh start. I felt like God.

I stayed on late at the club, just organising the training for tomorrow. It was about 10pm before I left the stadium and wandered along the road. Steve was staying at mine for the near future, and I told him to make the place his own. Boy did he make it his own.

I caught him in my bed, arse raised to the roof, going full throttle at a very happy club chairman.

Caleyjag

Some of you may have read this story elsewhere, but I wanted to post it here too for your enjoyment. When updating it I'll be editing my original post to keep things together, and post a note to say what dates have been added :thup:

Caleyjag

Update: 3rd January 2007 - 26th March 2007

Check original post to view.

tom q

HAHA This is Great stuff, brilliant! really funny! it took me almost 30 minutes to read all that but it was worth it! Brilliant cant wait for an update! Well done

Caleyjag

Glad you enjoyed it tom. I'm trying to do about a page or two of A4 as updates as any less isn't really worth reading in my opinion. I'll try and get the next update before the weekend.

tom q

cool brillaint ill look out for it

Mark Snellink

Can't wait. It's a little creepy, but funny. I'll be reading.

Caleyjag

Creepy?

The next installment could be up tonight all going well.

Caleyjag

7th April 2007
Lenny and Steve were quite the odd couple. Steve was a worrier. Not just a standard worrier, he always thought the worst. For example, just the other day he caught sight of a stray thread on his shoulder, instantly he took the shirt off and binned it. Reason? “By afternoon the whole sleeve will have come apart”. I mean, my god. He's once been known to worry about an overnight storm. He stayed up all night because he thought if it continued, he may have been drowned in his sleep. This was the tip of the iceberg. Is it any wonder he ended up the way he has done?

Lenny.. Lenny was Lenny. Nothing troubled him. He was doing the job he loved, lived in a large house just south of the town and drove to work along a private road he got built for himself. He had it easy did Lenny. If there was a nuclear war on he'd be smoking a cigar in a bunker somewhere shrugging his shoulders and checking to see if anything interesting was on the box.
I cornered Steve one night – in fact, the ONLY night – Lenny wasn't round. I asked what was going on, since when did he come out of the closet? And more importantly, did Lenny have anything to say about me and him at Christmas. Nothing it turned out, he didn't mention one thing about me. Part of me was relieved, another part of me was a bit p*ssed off. Did I really mean that little to him? Never mind if I was gay/bi or straight (I'm straight) I still felt a bit rejected.

Steve sat down and told me about how his relationship with his ex all fell apart. It was him that ran off with another man, and not his other half running off with the hop-along lesbian. When I decided to stay on at the club, Lenny invited him out for a drink just to get to know him better. One thing led to another so he says (just how does one thing lead to another within the space of a few pints???) and they ended up back in my room. Then Steve leaned back and gazed into a world that was a million miles from here, he looked so happy that I wish I was in the same place with him. He stroked the side of his face, as if to mimic an action that reminded him of the balding chairman. Lenny has a smooth face so I'm told. And then I got told of other parts of him that were smooth also. It was enough to almost bring up the peperoni pizza I had earlier in the evening.

As long as he's happy I don't suppose I've got a problem. I just hope this doesn't affect me being manager of the club. What if I had a bad run of games, would Steve be told that if he played nicely and let Lenny tie him up every so often that the job would be his within a click of the fingers? Suddenly I'm feeling a lot of extra pressure.


15th April 2007
The riddle of the crosses has been solved!!!

I was preparing breakfast in the kitchen in the morning, before I headed to the stadium for our first game of the season and I heard the letterbox creaking open. I raced to the front door and opened it to see who it was, as the postman only comes at midday, if at all.

I was ready to give this person the biggest b*ll*cking imaginable for messing about sending gibberish through my letterbox when the biggest, (and I mean big) meanest looking bloke stared right back down at me. Correction, he looked into me. He looked into my soul, and beat it to death with no more than the heavy breathing that flared his nostrels. My knees went, I couldn't get words out, and I knew if the silence continued any longer he could probably make out the faint sound of someone absolutely cacking themselves.

He handed over the bit of paper with the cross on it. Then stood. Did he want me to speak? Was I to thank him for this? Thank him for what exactly?

I looked a the cross, trying so damn hard to decipher it. I wanted to know what the hell this was all about before I surrendered to the inevitable beating I was to receive. One big X. That's all it was. Was this his signature I wondered? Ha! Good joke Dave. Unwittingly I let out a light sn***er. Oops. Big mistake!

“My mother wishes you luck this season.” He said to me with absolutely no emotion whatsoever.
“Pardon me?” I replied. Well, I say replied, I think I squeaked something out so high pitched that to a dolphin it might have sounded vaguely like an attempt at communication.
“My mother. She made you these. It is the flag of Scotland yes?”

Of course! Oh for the love of new born babies! The friggin' Scotland flag. How could I not instantly see that with my crappy human eyes? Yes, I see now. That big pencilled shoogily letter X, drawn in a big thick purple crayon, on a white bit of paper, yes.. that's EXACTLY how the Scotland flag looks.

I thanked him and closed the door. I looked down at the bit of paper I had been handed. Jesus f***ing Christ. How dotty was this woman?

We won our first game of the season 2-1 incidentally. Now I'm not usually one for superstitions, but I really wanted to track down this woman and give her one tremendous slobbering kiss on the lips!


30th April 2007
The main European leagues are coming to the end of their seasons now, and after checking the league tables on the internet earlier on it made me a bit homesick. I wondered how everyone was doing in Inverness. How were Jeff and Margaret? My god, I haven't spoken to them in ages! I'll need to give them a call sometime.

The draw for the first round of the Norwegian Cup was made today. In the league we've played 3 and won 2, so I was confident that as long as we avoided anyone in divisions above us, we'd be well placed to progress to at least the second round.

There are close to 120 teams that take part so watching the draw (I was in the audience) was a bit of a bore. I stuck on my iPod and listened to a few of my favourite tunes whilst they got on with it.

Really, why they can't make it a randomly generated computer printout is a bit beyond me. Sure for the quarter finals onwards make it a draw with names out of the hat, but for the first round just throw teams together. We're all at the same level roughly.

With 40 teams left to draw my iPod decided to cut out. The left ear-piece wasn't working right. I had to fashion my whole upper body into some sort of shape that resembled a painting by Picasso to bend the wire in such a way that it cackled into life again.

It was most uncomfortable so I just turned it off and chucked it onto the seat next to me. b****rd contraptions. We've come a long way since gramophones and vinyl but the idiots at Sony etc still haven't worked out how to stop a wire falling out of an earpiece!

A further 20 minutes passed before we found out we had drawn FC Lyn Oslo of the first division. I'd never heard of them, and that can only be a good thing couldn't it? It's like the Champions League draws where you get some team from Latvia or Bosnia against you. This game had 5-0 written all over it.


7th May 2007
Myself, Steve and Lenny (groan) went out for a few pints today. We were keeping training light because of the upcoming game against Oslo. We didn't want too many injuries so we let the lads off at just after 1pm.

We went to this bar Lenny knew, which amazingly wasn't a gay bar as I thought it was. It was about half an hours drive from the stadium and was really nice. It had that “ye olde inn” décor that is more expected of the English pubs than what I'd expect to find out here going by previous experience around Norway.

The locals all knew Lenny, and greeted him warmly. We were introduced to them all. There was Pete, he was old. Older than anyone else I think I've met in my life. Mary – she ran the place. She was in her mid 50's I guessed, seemed nice enough. Tom – one of Pete's friends, Pete's wife Jane who was well under half Pete's age. Me thinks that Pete has himself a lot of money and that he's going to the land of eternal sleep quite shortly.

Jane was actually checking out Steve quite admiringly when he walked in. Bitch. Just my luck, not just my best mate, but my gay best mate was getting the attention of the only half decent looking female in the area. Why do I have such rotten luck with women????

We tried this beer called Bokkøl which was strong stuff. About 7% I think Lenny said it was. It tasted different to anything I've had before, but after 5 more trips to the bar had firmly established itself as my new favourite drink out here in Norway.

I got to know Lenny a lot better while we were sat around the table. He had never been married it turns out, but he had 2 kids. Both were in their late teens but he rarely saw them. Their last visit to him was 5 years ago at christmas. They don't call him "dad" anymore either which really did look as though it upset him.

He'd been in charge of the football club since his girlfriend ran off with the kids. He needed something to fill the void in his life, but you could still tell that something was missing. Steve, bless him, was fast asleep, head right back over the back of the chair, snoring his face off. He had this very bad habit of drinking slowly, which in turn made him very drowsy. We'd only had the 3 pints before he slipped into the land of nod occasionly dribbling down his top.

I managed to bring up the subject of my Calpol drinking over the New Year. Lenny couldn't stop laughing. Apparently all the staff at the club on the night out had managed to convince me that Calpol and vodka was some sort of drink that meant in the morning you'd have no hangover. I must have been that drunk that I believed them. I was about to ask about the condom on my face but by then he was up and away talking to Mary at the bar. Drat! I'll need to corner him another time.

I tried my best to wake Steve up. Light slaps across the face didn't work, holding his nose shut didn't work, I was even tempted to smack him one between the legs but I chickened out at the last minute. Wouldn't be fair on Lenny, and I didn't fancy turning up to work with a frustrated chairman eye-balling me.

I heard the bell that signalled that it was last orders and I looked into my wallet. Nothing. That wasn't a good sign. I wouldn't be getting paid until a further 5 days time. I dipped into Steve's pocket to see if he had his wallet with him but the bugger woke up. Typical.


9th May 2007
Our game in Oslo (we were playing Lyn, crap name for a team isn't it?) didn't go as well as I had hoped. We had been riding on the crest of a wave over the last wee while and had climbed to 4th in the league but we've developed a nasty habit for getting defenders sent off.

Today was no exception. And after 10 minutes, our centre-back Malmo saw red and we just couldn't cope with the Lyn attacks. We went in at the break 2-0 down and it was the first time since being there I just didn't know what to say to the team. They had tried so hard that it would have been an injustice to them if I had to tell them it wasn't good enough. I told them anyway. I'm desperate to win all of my games, and even against supposed superior opposition, I still demanded an extra 10% from my players.

We battled superbly for 20 minutes of the second half, even creating 3 or 4 chances. But they hit us on the counter to make it 3-0, and when we got another player sent off... well that was game, set and match to Lyn.

beanochris

Love it...