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Thursday, 20th September

Today Jose Mourinho got sacked. I can’t say I’m shocked in fact, I’m quite happy about it. He wasn’t English enough and didn’t understand the “English way”. He even had the gall to criticize me and Johnno when we went out for a beer before the Rosenborg game. Questioning our desire… pfft. Stupid pompous Portuguese prick.

Despite his lack of Englishness, some players don’t seem to have handled his leaving well. Those two African fellows seem to be down in the dumps, along with Frank (Although I have no clue why…). The players that are happy to see the back of him are me and Johnno obviously, along with some fellow named Andriy. He’s supposedly been at Chelsea for a year and a bit now, although I can honestly say I have no recollection of him. Still, I’m sure all the lads will cheer up when they meet our new manager.

Hopefully we can get a real manager in. An English manager. I shall personally go and talk to Roman about bringing in an English manager. Maybe we can get Neil Warnock.

Friday, 21st September

I can’t believe it! I’m so angry I can barely write this. Except I have to. At 30 I plan to release my second autobiography. It will chronicle the rise of my career at Chelsea, from being a wet behind the ears left back at Arsenal to the next Maldini… I have decided to call it… Left Back. I think it’s a brilliant name. Because I’m a left back, see? I’m sure it will be a bigger commercial hit than my first one. It sold something like 4000 copies! I always knew I was a literary genius!

Anyway the reason I’m angry is that Roman had the gall to appoint a new manager without discussing it with me and the rest of the English lads. To make it worse, the manager is a freaky looking Frankenstein dude from Arabia or summat’. I told Roman’s secretary that I wasn’t impressed at Roman bypassing my opinion before appointing a new coach. She said that Roman would get back to me. He’d better. If he doesn’t I may have to consider leaving Chelsea. And with all the influence I have here… The whole club might fall apart… They might become the next Leeds. I’ll have to remind Mr. Abramovich about this when I see him.

That Diddy fellow is still crying in the corner clutching his Jose doll along with his Samsung phone and American Express card. He seems to be saying “why? why?”

Saturday, 22nd September

F**cking hell! Who does Roman think he is? He called me up and said that he doesn’t give a shit about my opinion and I should concentrate on my football! I was so angry I swerved off the road, “You’re taking the piss, Roman you smug Ruskie Bastard!” I screamed down the phone. Unfortunately he had put down the phone by then.

I got home in a fit of anger and kicked my GI Joe doll into the wall. Cheryl came and asked me was there anything she could do to help me relax. I smiled and said, “Off course…” and calmly took off my pants. Than I told her to run me a bath and get me a phone with Jermaine on the line. She looked disappointed. Wonder why? I must ask her.

After discussing whether it was better to wear a white or black suit with Jermaine (Obviously white is the best. So manly), I felt better and decided to go to training. When I got there, there was only that Diddy fellow sitting in the dugout crying. When I asked him where everyone was, he said the new manager had given us a holiday because he was fasting or summat’. So I got all angry again. I mean, I had to sit in my car, drive for 4 minutes to Stamford Bridge and this non-English fellow doesn’t even have the decency to tell me we’re not training? This is not on!

Sunday, 23rd September

I saw our new coach for the first time today. Weird looking fellow. As we started warming up, he said the way we were warming up was all wrong. He said the ideal way to warm up was to train and that all these stretches and stuff were a Moslem conspiracy designed to weaken the infidels. I have to say this fellow is deep.

We then proceeded to dribble through cones and play one touch football. I quite enjoyed myself and am confident of beating Manchester United later today.

Monday, 24th September

We lost. I couldn’t believe it. I played so well. I played my heart out but we still lost. Me and Johnno were absolutely superb but I feel the rest of the lads let us English lads down. Especially that Israeli fellow. Tal or whatever his name is. I told him he has a girls name but he just looked at me and laughed. I suppose the Israeli’s haven’t mastered the English language yet. After the match the new Arab coach or whatever, told us he expected a better performance from us in our next game. I screamed at him that he had no right to talk to the English fellows this way and he was taking the piss. He just looked at me with those bulbous eyes.

I was so angry, but seeing that I didn’t have my car I just charged into the wall. I think I may have hurt myself. There’s blood coming out of my ears.

Tuesday, 25th September

Luckily I’m OK. I think the most relieved of the Chelsea staff was Abraham Grant (Or whatever his name is). I think he knew that without me Chelsea’s title aspirations would fall apart. Wayne Bridge is a good left back, but he’s no Paolo Maldini, who himself is no Ashley Cole. Still he’s better than that French fellow at Arsenal. Get it? Arse-Anal!!! I’m also a comedic genius. I should get Jonathon to give Dave Chapelle a call… I’m sure I could write a couple of skits for him in my free time.

Wednesday 26th September

2:00 PM Today Cheryl told me she was disappointed with our married life and was looking to spice it up. She said perhaps we should buy “toys” for each other. I agreed. We decided to meet up back home in an hour. I went to Toys R Us and bought Cheryl a Playstation 3. It’s not really a toy but rather a way of life the salesman told me, but I bought it anyway. When I got home Cheryl was dressed in a tiny miniskirt and a bra. When I showed her my gift for her she seemed disappointed. That ungrateful bitch. She than showed me her toy which turned out to be a weird long… thing. When I asked her what the hell was I supposed to do with it, she said that it’s meant to be used on the most private of parts. I said I’d check it out and started to plug in my PS3. Cheryl got all huffy and left. I think she feels bad because it only comes with one controller.

5:00 PM I decided to go to the bathroom and look at Cheryl’s toy. At first I didn’t know what to do with it as it just kept squirming and shaking all over the place. Then I remembered that it was meant to be used on the most private part of the body and proceeded to try and shove it into my rectum…

Four words. GREATEST TOY EVER… ummm… really. Wait… is “ummm” a word? I must ask Cheryl. She hasn’t been home since this afternoon.

This article is a submission for the Soccerlens Football Writing Competition; to participate, please read the details here.