Monday, 10 October 2011

MY MATE GARRY COOK: A MAN OF VISION

Once again, the knives have been out and once again the right-on, politically correct bleeding heart liberal do-gooder brigade have brought about the downfall of a good man. A man of vision.

I have to say that over the years he was at Manchester City I got to know Garry Cook pretty well. He was a man I not only grew to admire, but also to like, and I don’t say that about many people. I’ve been on my fair share of Man U corporate away trips over the years and am now looking forward to going on a few City trips now that success has come to our other local soccer club, Manc City, as they call them. That he should be booted out because a bit of banter was taken in the wrong way is a crying shame.

It’s the hypocrisy I can’t stand – who among us can honestly sit there with a straight face and say they’ve never mistakenly sent a private email to the wrong punter? People should take it in good faith – you weren’t meant to see it, so just forget about it. Admittedly, the courts see it differently sometimes – I’m still paying off at least three ex-RC Solutions “people” after tribunals returned verdicts against yours truly – but as a business owner, it was never going to cost me my job, it just upped the premiums on the insurance.

Frankly, I bought into Garry’s vision for the Blue Mancs Soccer Army (as they are known on the streets), or The Project as “Cookie” called it. We were in line to do a load of the solutions stuff – he was big into using local companies and all that.

I remember once “GC” and me were having a round of golf with Dr Thaksin, the old City owner and another great guy – and I had this idea. “Why don’t you build a zone around the stadium for the fans? Call it a fanzone,” I said.

“I like it,” said “Gazza”. The rest, as they say, is now the stuff of legends. Another night, me and the lads were in Rosso and I got talking to this young Arab lad. He wanted to know what we thought of City, and “GarCo” and all the rest of it. It turned out this lad was the Great Sheikh himself, he tipped me the wink on all kinds of plans they’ve got for Manchester. Out of respect I can’t mention it, though to be fair, I got that bladdered I can only remember about half anyway. All I know is it’s a crime “The Cookmeister” won’t be there to see his vision through.

I’m not blaming the lass who got the email. It’s the press, once again, that made a mountain out of a molehill and caused all this. After the MP expenses non-story and the Murdoch tosh, I’m tiring of it. If Thaksin ever gets back in control of Thailand, consider me gone.

Reading the riot act

So there I was, tucked in nicely at the bar in a discreet gentleman’s club – I’m not telling you where if you’re not ITK – watching the footage of the riots taking place in Manchester and some place called Salford when the old light bulb went off – not the red one in the window, either.
In case you don’t know, the BBC is moving shedloads of their muppets up to Salford Quays next year, after Johnny Whittaker (great lad, by the way) pulled off the deal of a lifetime and royally narked off Sir Howie Bernstein in the process. All good fun. Being a Murdoch loyalist, I don’t hold much truck with the BBC myself – it’s full of Communists, puddle jumpers and, worst of all, liberals – but there’s an opportunity here for a connected mover and shaker like myself.

It strikes me that the skinny latte-drinking BBC types would have been watching the footage of little kids robbing plasma tellies and trainers bold as brass and, frankly, started to rust their armour about exactly what they’ve signed up for here.

But they can’t all back out and find a job elsewhere, the pensions are too cushy for one thing. What they need is reassurance of safety; that they can get from work to home without being knifed by some little ninja. And I can help.

Here’s the plan: an underground shuttle from the heart of MediaCity (I’ve been checking up on this, that’s ACTUALLY what it’s called) right into the heart of Hale, possibly with a stop in Chorlton, as there are bound to be some hippies along with the overstuffed management class. Absolute winner.

Yes it’s true, RC Resi Devs plc has never before attempted an “infrastructure project” but how hard can it be, really? We’d never done a golf course until we got chatting to the oil boys from Kazakhstan at MIPIM one year, and that went like a dream.

I know that Metrolink’s taking years to build but to me that’s just typical public sector fannying about. I plan to take my inspiration from the Burma railroad, built in no time at all by virtue of good honest toil and firm but fair management.

That’s it folks, it’s time to bring back the chain gangs. We could even get them orange jumpsuits and those suits with the arrows on so everyone can see that we’ve given them jobs. No hoods either, kids. Best of all, I’ll be putting out a few feelers as to what kind of grants are available to hire the sort of no-good scrote who’s landed himself with a few thousand hours of community service for being daft enough to rob alcopops in the full glare of CCTV.

Scrote labour, it’s the future. Really, society is very lucky to have men of vision like me ready to give these kids a chance and make the world a safer place.