Thursday, 7 February 2008

Out on my arse

It doesn’t rain, it pours and I’m not just talking about the weather. No sooner was I back from Barbados that I found some scrotes had attacked my house. Windows smashed, garage doors like an explosion in a paint factory. Thank Christ the Hummer wasn’t out front. Frankly, Alderley’s not seen anything like this since the Hamas branch of the United supporters club popped round to Rio’s gaff to politely ask if holding out for an ivory backscratcher and a helicopter to training wasn’t a tad excessive.

Problems on the home front as well. Mrs Cashman has changed the locks and is looking to become Mrs half-my-cashwoman. It’s all come from laying off the au pair, following a bit of financial restructuring. Mrs C for once in her life took it upon herself to take a few of my suits down to the dry-cleaners and wallop, mayhem. I told her the Cheshire Companions gold card wasn’t mine but she wasn’t having any of it. If this one goes all the way to court it could cost me big time.

If it weren’t for the tax-crazy President Brown and his Jocko pal, that one with the eyebrows, I’d say that it might be time to start cashing in on a few ventures. I’m weighing up a tactical move to Monaco. Alan “Murph” Murphy – a top man incidentally – and a few of the boys have been out there for years now as an advance party. Frankly, it’d be a relief to work in an environment where there’s less nose-poking and more respect for the entrepreneur.

I’ve considered packing up and heading for the Land of the Free before now, but it looks like they might be taking leave of their senses again by sticking Slick Willy Clinton’s Doris in the Oval Office – so to speak.

The Yanks have got it right, apart from Tom “Hicksy” Hicksy and his pal George Gillett, owners of Liverpool FC, who are finding out what a touchy lot the Scousers can be. Mexicans and Puerto Ricans for a taco an hour, that’s the US way, and not a complaint from anyone. Rafa Benitez even seems to have even found room for a couple in the first team, which is good of him.

Give Hicksy his due, he said he’d pull off the refinancing of the club and he has. Wish I had his bankers - every bank in town seems to have forgotten what a track record is and I’ve frankly had enough. It’s off to the Riviera to call a few old favours in and get back on track. I’m a winner and in the end, I’ll win. My favourite film tells us that “What we achieve in life echoes in eternity”. Couldn’t have put it better myself.

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