Dear Diary,

Bloody hell! I haven’t been in the papers this much since Ulrika started mouthing off. When I first arrived at Notts County it was all going well, having just managed to grab Sol on a five-year contract. Then, after playing only one game, he decides to leave. Bollocks. Apparently there’s no County equivalent for Freddie Ljungberg. He told me he was unimpressed with our expected rate of progress, the training pitch and the dressing room…pathetic excuse. I’ve only heard good things about my choice of floral wallpaper in the changing room. After that, the gaffer Ian McParland gets the boot, and it was my job to find a replacement. Eventually I managed to get my old mate and colleague Hans Backe through the back door – you can’t put a price on nepotism! He’d better get me a good Christmas present. Also, recently my own services have been in demand. They’ve only bloody asked me to become the coach of Sweden – talk about a dilemma. But I told them you can’t beat a good Friday night shark in Ocean. It does mean I’ve got to keep going to Ikea for my Swedish meatballs though! The drama didn’t stop there. When Munto Finance took over Notts County in July, many people were unsure exactly who they were, hardly BNOCs are they? This led to talk of the deal being denied by the Football League… Pedantic wankers. Luckily the club’s pretty handy on Wikipedia and fed information on the investors into the heads of the Football League. Thank God for that, I can have my Cristal back on tap! So with everything off the pitch sorted, I guess I’ve got to start our push for the Champions League.

John Amble

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