Now, as you know, my football team (the not so mighty Bolton Wanderers) are currently on the search for a new manager after Owen Coyle was given his marching orders last week. Ole Gunnar Solskjær, the legend himself, has already ruled himself out after committing himself to the managerial job at Molde FK, so it leaves us on the hunt. Ex-Wolves boss, Mick McCarthy, has also apparently turned us down. Not sure why.
(Shame. I like Mick McCarthy and thought he’d have done the job quite well.)
However, there are a few names I would NOT like to see taking over the reigns at the Reebok. This is inspired by the wonderful people at Manny Road but all the views are entirely my own and nothing’s been copied.
Phil Brown: Mr. Tango himself was manager in 1999 as a caretaker manager but, since then, he’s managed several clubs and failed dismally every time. Then there was the infamous team-talk on the pitch whilst he was manager of Hull where he gave all the players a roasting whilst they were losing quite badly at half time. He was consequently sacked and then almost sent Preston North End down in 2011 before getting fired from there as well. He hasn’t managed a team since. I rest my case.
John Barnes: Managed Celtic and failed. Buggered off back to Jamaica to manage their national team and failed. Came back to England, managed Tranmere Rovers, and failed. Need I say more?
Alan Curbishley: Lazy and bone-idle. He’s only ever managed two clubs – Charlton Athletic and West Ham United – and has done nothing since. If he chooses to continue a life of bone-idleness, that’s up to him, but we don’t want a lazy manager at the Reebok.
Alex McLeish: A clueless, ginger idiot and, generally, an ugly Scotsman. A bit like the Scottish equivalent of Mr. Smegson who is instantly disliked everywhere he goes. I’d rather not if you don’t mind.
Gary Megson: Speaking of Mr. Smegson, here he is. He may have got us into Europe but, whilst we were playing a European match, he left the majority of the decent players back in England and we went out that night. We then lost to Wigan Athletic and generally went downhill from there, narrowly avoiding the drop. We went almost fifty days without a win. Needless to say, he was subsequently sacked a few days later.
Sammy Lee: The little poison dwarf himself is currently our caretaker manager for a second time. He took over when Mr. Smegson was given the boot and then only just managed to save us from relegation. We don’t want that again.
Paolo di Canio: The self-proclaimed Italian fascist who is also a bit of a nutter both on and off the pitch? No thanks. I know he’d give our players a boot up the backside but, then, they wouldn’t be able to sit down for a while.
Harry Redknapp: He wouldn’t come up North anyway but I’d rather not have someone who looks like a bulldog chewing a wasp at the Reebok. He tried managing Portsmouth and Southampton, failing at both, before going to Spurs. He was sacked last year and he’d sell us up a river, presumably in Monaco, and then blame it all on Rosie the dog. And don’t get me started on him winding the window down. I’d rather have Jamie, thanks.
Steve McClaren: Schteve. Wally with the brolly. The man with the permanently bad hair day (thanks to aforementioned Manny Road for that one). Useless tit. Whatever you want to call him, the man’s an idiot. He may have won the league with FC Twente in the land of the Dutchies but he’s still an absolute arse. Then there was the delightful moment a rather enraged Middlesbrough fan decided to give his season ticket back by chucking it in his general direction to show his disgust at their run of form. He’s been a laughing stock for speaking with a Dutch accent during Twente interviews – and rightly so. Christ knows what living up North would do to him.
So, over to you, Phil Gartside. Do the right thing and don’t choose any of this lot. We know you’re getting desperate but we need a decent manager. You’ve made some dodgy decisions in the past so it’s time for you to change all that. The only way I’d take any of the above is if they were going to work in a pie shop. In Wigan. Please get off your fat arse and sign someone that will actually do the job and take us up the league. That’s all we’re asking for.