Friday 3th November
Dear Diary,
Life is so unfair, I finished work at midday and nipped straight into my Porsche to nip to the TSB and found that they have given me less interest than I expected. It seems that the account I opened was a Current Account, and not the Interest Plus Saver. 1% interest I have lost in the last month – I’m absolutely gutted. I managed to keep myself from throwing up over the manager, but its made me feel unwell for the whole day.
Got home and pulled out my Girls Aloud cumblanket from under the ottoman in the spare room (hope Cheryl doesn’t find it), bashed off a few over the individual members. That cheered me up, normal people don’t have to go through the shite I do. Put Lionel on the CD player and set my phone to silent.
Saturday 4th November
Got a phone call from Lamps (that’s Lampard btw) who said we have got Graham Poll as ref tomorrow – gutted. Its all Arsenal’s fault, I saw Poll taking to David Dein in my local Carphone Warehouse, had to go to Phones4U instead which is crap – although they did have the brand new Nokia with interchangeable facias, mp3 player and 7 vibrating alerts. Managed to get a fiver off the price too after haggling, the spotty little Arsenal fan bastard behind the counter tried to jap me off for the full price. Twat. They’ve all got it in for me.
FINALLY got home really late (its half three!) and found a fine in the post, I’ve not paid the congestion charge in London on my Ferrari and have to pay £30 within a week. Managed to get to the toilet in the second wing of Chez Cole before I threw up, although I did chunder a little on the way which splashed on my 42†plasma screen in the hall. Fucking joke, normal plebs don’t have to go through this shit. Rang for a cleaner, and then went for a rummage under the ottoman.
Sunday 5th November
This has got to be worst day in my life since Arsene Wenger tried to get me to pay for my own meal back in April 2004, I hate that bastard.
We got beaten by Tottenham – fucking Spurs of all teams – the ‘old’ enemy, and Johnny got sent off by Poll. Its really not fair at all, I’m not moaning or anything, but we should have won that. We have more money and my facial beard is better than any of theirs. I’m really not moaning. I got booked too because I ignored that Arsenal twat Poll, he kept asking me to get back 10 yards but I just ignored him and tried to get 5% off what he was offering, why not, everyone else tries to jap me out of something. Its not as if I live in a slum and get benefits, or collect old people’s piss in a home – I work for a fucking living, and hard work it is too. I only fucking get Mondays off (or the occasional Sunday when I play on Saturday).
The only good thing about today was that my new Nokia mobile was fully charged, it looks the dogs. Set my alarm, lobbed it on silent and put Lionel on.
Monday 6th November
Can’t believe it – Cheryl came back after the Twickenham performance and found me crouched over the cumblanket. She is absolutely gutted, feels disgusted in me – she noticed that the only girls covered in my manly love juice are Kimberly, Nadia and Sarah (obviously not the ginger scouse one though). There was a little on Cheryl, but I think that was just residue splashback (I didn’t think it would matter to her – I married her and spent loads of money on her, she should be fucking happy with that).
She asked the Arsenal fan cleaner (I can fucking tell, she looked the type, always wanted paying) to dispose of my blanket, gutted although there is a sale in Woolworths and I can get an All Saints duvet for only a tenner (50% off, boss). That’ll learn Cheryl.
Still gutted about the game yesterday, ok I know that Terry was sent off, but I got bleeding booked! That’s so unfair, I said to the Arsenal scum “I'm more than 10 yards. Why should I go back if I am more than 10 yards?'" and he just said “because I said soâ€.
So fucking unfair, I said, 'But I'm more than 10 yards,' and that was it. Yellow card. No warning or explanation, fucking joke. Said so to the press too, and if that gets me fined I’ll be livid. Normal people don’t have to go through this.
When I got home – listen to this diary – found a GRAND fine from the TV Licencing on the mat. One thousand pounds, for not playing some poxy license! The liberty of it, I don’t even watch BBC – Sky all the way for young Ashley – that’s what I’m on, so that’s what I watch.
Add to that I found that my autobiography, which tells the whole truth about my slave existence at Arsenal due to my skin colour, is the lowest selling of all of the footballers. Threw up there and then, right on the faux bearskin rug. Gutted, that’ll cost me. Not even a phone call from Shaun Wright Phillips cheered me up.
Dear Diary,
Life is so unfair, I finished work at midday and nipped straight into my Porsche to nip to the TSB and found that they have given me less interest than I expected. It seems that the account I opened was a Current Account, and not the Interest Plus Saver. 1% interest I have lost in the last month – I’m absolutely gutted. I managed to keep myself from throwing up over the manager, but its made me feel unwell for the whole day.
Got home and pulled out my Girls Aloud cumblanket from under the ottoman in the spare room (hope Cheryl doesn’t find it), bashed off a few over the individual members. That cheered me up, normal people don’t have to go through the shite I do. Put Lionel on the CD player and set my phone to silent.
Saturday 4th November
Got a phone call from Lamps (that’s Lampard btw) who said we have got Graham Poll as ref tomorrow – gutted. Its all Arsenal’s fault, I saw Poll taking to David Dein in my local Carphone Warehouse, had to go to Phones4U instead which is crap – although they did have the brand new Nokia with interchangeable facias, mp3 player and 7 vibrating alerts. Managed to get a fiver off the price too after haggling, the spotty little Arsenal fan bastard behind the counter tried to jap me off for the full price. Twat. They’ve all got it in for me.
FINALLY got home really late (its half three!) and found a fine in the post, I’ve not paid the congestion charge in London on my Ferrari and have to pay £30 within a week. Managed to get to the toilet in the second wing of Chez Cole before I threw up, although I did chunder a little on the way which splashed on my 42†plasma screen in the hall. Fucking joke, normal plebs don’t have to go through this shit. Rang for a cleaner, and then went for a rummage under the ottoman.
Sunday 5th November
This has got to be worst day in my life since Arsene Wenger tried to get me to pay for my own meal back in April 2004, I hate that bastard.
We got beaten by Tottenham – fucking Spurs of all teams – the ‘old’ enemy, and Johnny got sent off by Poll. Its really not fair at all, I’m not moaning or anything, but we should have won that. We have more money and my facial beard is better than any of theirs. I’m really not moaning. I got booked too because I ignored that Arsenal twat Poll, he kept asking me to get back 10 yards but I just ignored him and tried to get 5% off what he was offering, why not, everyone else tries to jap me out of something. Its not as if I live in a slum and get benefits, or collect old people’s piss in a home – I work for a fucking living, and hard work it is too. I only fucking get Mondays off (or the occasional Sunday when I play on Saturday).
The only good thing about today was that my new Nokia mobile was fully charged, it looks the dogs. Set my alarm, lobbed it on silent and put Lionel on.
Monday 6th November
Can’t believe it – Cheryl came back after the Twickenham performance and found me crouched over the cumblanket. She is absolutely gutted, feels disgusted in me – she noticed that the only girls covered in my manly love juice are Kimberly, Nadia and Sarah (obviously not the ginger scouse one though). There was a little on Cheryl, but I think that was just residue splashback (I didn’t think it would matter to her – I married her and spent loads of money on her, she should be fucking happy with that).
She asked the Arsenal fan cleaner (I can fucking tell, she looked the type, always wanted paying) to dispose of my blanket, gutted although there is a sale in Woolworths and I can get an All Saints duvet for only a tenner (50% off, boss). That’ll learn Cheryl.
Still gutted about the game yesterday, ok I know that Terry was sent off, but I got bleeding booked! That’s so unfair, I said to the Arsenal scum “I'm more than 10 yards. Why should I go back if I am more than 10 yards?'" and he just said “because I said soâ€.
So fucking unfair, I said, 'But I'm more than 10 yards,' and that was it. Yellow card. No warning or explanation, fucking joke. Said so to the press too, and if that gets me fined I’ll be livid. Normal people don’t have to go through this.
When I got home – listen to this diary – found a GRAND fine from the TV Licencing on the mat. One thousand pounds, for not playing some poxy license! The liberty of it, I don’t even watch BBC – Sky all the way for young Ashley – that’s what I’m on, so that’s what I watch.
Add to that I found that my autobiography, which tells the whole truth about my slave existence at Arsenal due to my skin colour, is the lowest selling of all of the footballers. Threw up there and then, right on the faux bearskin rug. Gutted, that’ll cost me. Not even a phone call from Shaun Wright Phillips cheered me up.
