An exciting development – I’ve got a new job! I am the new manager of Tottenham Hotspur Football Club! Didn’t see that one coming! Funny how it happened really – this funny little bloke rang on my doorbell and said that they urgently needed a new manager to replace somebody that he can’t talk about for legal reasons (nod nod, wink wink, twitch twitch) and said that he heard that I was Berti Vogts, the famous football manager. I said that I was indeed Bertie Vogts and that I was indeed playing Football Manager (Almeria pushing for a Europa League place actually) and he said ‘Whatever’ and made me sign the contract there and then. I was a bit confused when he asked why I wasn’t wearing my tartan flat cap and kept asking me about the 1974 World Cup Final, but I was just pleased to get out of the house really.
But anyway - our first fixture is against Hearts, but I can’t be arsed going to that one. Therefore I am going to focus all my energies on our game on Monday against Manchester United. And the most important thing as far as I’m concerned is mind games. Mind games, mind games, mind games. Mind games. I’m going to out-mind game Sir Alex Ferguson, who is the manager of Manchester United. I plan to play these mind games in my first press conference, which I will hold in my back garden, next to the bins. This is my first mind game:
I have never been punched in the balls by a ‘fighting drunk’ who thought that I was a Sir Alex Ferguson impersonator. You, Sir Alex Ferguson, have been.
In fact, I don’t even look like Sir Alex Ferguson, so that’ll probably never happen to me. 1-0 to Tottenham - goalscorer Vogts (B), assist The Brain of Vogts. Here comes the second mind game:
I don’t think that X Factor winner Alexandra Burke is a man. You, Sir Alex Ferguson, definitely do think that and definitely said as much.
In fact, I think she doesn’t even look like a man – so where are all your trophies now eh? You know where you can stick your knighthood? In your bottom, that’s where (just in case that wasn’t clear). Speaking of which, here is the final mind game:
I have never driven really quickly down the hard shoulder of the M602 because I was shitting my pants. You, Sir Alex Ferguson, have said that you did so in court, so it must be true.
In fact, I can’t even drive (and I have excellent bowel control facilities) so that would never happen to me. 3-0, after you left your back line completely exposed.
Hooray for the Tottenham boys! We’ve won the mind games! This is bound to have a massive impact on the result on Monday (even bigger than the referee’s traditional interventions in this fixture), but even if not then it doesn’t really matter because we’ve got the mind games in the bag. Let’s see what so-called ‘Sir Alex Ferguson’, in all his bruised genitaled, gender-confusing, shitty-panted glory says back to that. I bet he doesn’t say anything. Therefore I win. Now here's a scouser who probably hated Manchester United, just to rub it in.
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