Secret Diary of A. Ferguson aged 68 1/4

11 January 2010 – Fitba, bloody hell! If it is nae bad enough that ma team was knocked oot the FA Cup, it had tae be the wee bassas Leeds. It’s enough to drive a man tae the drink.

Nae that there’s anything wrong with a wee dram or a boatle a’ soup. Giggsy calls me the ‘Exorcist’ because every time I visit, the spirits disappear.

I say as Rabbie Burns does, ‘It’s guid to be merry and wise.’

Talkin’ aboot the drink. That can be the only explanation for tae performance against Leeds. I told my son – Darren Fletcher, nae the other useless bass – ‘son, ye nae cannae take the drink. There’s no gonnae oot for ye an’ singing auld lang syne at Hogmanay.’ Did he listen, did he feck?

Then the wee bag o’ shite gets himself a red card at Birmingham. Maybe it’s aboot time I disowned this Darren, like the other wee eejit called Darren. I’ve always said Alex McCleish wis ma real son anyways, nae Darren, even if he’s a wee ginger feck. No doubt aboot it.

There’s been a lot of talk aboot money this week. The Glazers are gonnae borrow £500 million to pay off the club debt. £500 million?!!! That wouldnae even pay off my wummin, Cathy’s, credit card bill!

They say all the trouble started with ma hoarse, Rock of Gibraltar. If I had nae fell oot with those Irish bassas, they would nae have sold to the American jobbys. All over a wee turkey baster full of hoarse jiz.

It was nae a holiday!

But I isnae worried aboot the money situation. I disnae spend money unless its good value. Ask Dimitar, Juan Sebastian, Ralphe and Rio. It’s always aboot the value.

Times like this are stressful in the Ferguson hoose. Cathy, she’s the worst. She’s always stressing aboot the little things when it’s the fitba that really matters.

‘Oh Alex,’ she said. ‘Look at me, ay am fat, an ugly, pey me a compliment.’ ‘Yir eyesight’s perfect hen,’ I said.

I still disnae understand why the wummin is so upset!

I am writing this from Qatar where I’ve come with the lads for a wee holiday training camp. It’s bloody hot but nae as hot as the furnaces at the shipyards in Glesca when I was a boy.

The Qataris disnae have a scooby about fitba but I’m hoping one of the punters is rich enough to pay off Cathy’s credit card bill, nae-borra!

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