Sunday, October 3

What a pig of a result. We slaughtered Millwall and had 257 shots on target. The luck was against us though and they scored the only time they got out of their penalty area. Still, we managed to get the debt down by nearly £1m during half-time.

Rang Alex Ferguson after the match and spent twenty minutes telling him about my star man. I said that he ought to look at buying Andy Impey in the transfer window, but that there's no way I'd let him go for less than £20m. Alex said he couldn't really chat 'cause he was in the middle of their game against Middlesborough, so I rang Steve McClaren and asked if they'd pay Mark Viduka's wages while we have him on loan.

Got interviewed by Radio Nottingham and told them about the tricky balance involved in blooding youngsters. I've already brought Rogers, Impey, Jess and Hjelde through from the academy, and this has got to be the way forward.

Quiet scenes in the dressing room afterwards. I gave Evans a kick up the backside - he'd played well, but he appreciates that sort of treatment. I put my arm round Johnno and told him that his garden Gnome impression has just about lulled the rest of the division into a false sense of security. Blow me, we got on the team bus and it went to Coventry and then Leeds and we had to get the train back to, er, Nottingham.

Right two weeks till we play again, I need to tell Nigel that I'm going scouting at one of the European Champions League matches.

Monday, October 4

I started a sort of online captain's log yesterday but when I tried to write today's entry, there was just a nice message from Mr Arthur saying that he was closing down the forum. At first I though that young Reidy thought it was like eBay and kept putting himself up for sale. Mr Arthur told me that it was because fans have been getting upset about the "we're serious about promotion" business. He said: "I meant that we were serious about the SALES promotion, the one that got them to buy the tickets." Obvious really, no-one could have thought that we were serious about the other sort.

Came in this morning to find Nigel up a ladder. He was taking every other bulb out as an economy measure. This was a great idea and he managed to get the debt down by half a million in the course of the morning. When he started taking bulbs out of the floodlights I got a bit worried, but he pointed out that Reidy doesn't like to use this side of the pitch and we only have to light one penalty area at a time.

This debt is a pesky thing. It wasn't mentioned at all when I came but it soon reached £40million. We'd have to sell Reidy twice to pay that much off, and even Tottenham aren't THAT stupid. Since then, it's been down to £5million and up again to £20million. What do they mean by a million anyway?

Had the lads in for training today. We did quite well to have a full session because we still have nearly twenty first teamers on the treatment table. Mind you, it's a bloody big table. We had a bit of a problem practising our usual moves as Gaz Taylor was injured and couldn't stand where he usually does. I thought we'd pick up another knock - Hjelde looked like he had two broken legs, but Gary Fleming told me that he always walks like that.

Rang up Arsene again. Had to use the payphone 'cause he seems to have accidentally blocked my mobile. He pretended not to know who I am, even though we both live in London. Nigel says that I can't ring up all the Premier League managers up every day 'cause of the bill, so I just texted Fergie about that promising youngster they have, Michael Stewart.

Still gutted about Sunday. It was a moral victory to us, which means another three points on the moral league table. I showed Nigel that we're still top, morally, and that apart from Coventry at home, we have a 100% record. He didn't seem impressed but he'll be impressed when we get moral promotion!

Tuesday, October 5

Have spent all day trying to think of ways to improve our form. We've massacred almost everyone and have just been a bit unlucky. I wanted to go and buy some heather but Nigel said that the budget won't stretch that far. Have been trying to convince the players that I have some lucky privet.

Still, as they say, you make your own luck. I looked in my trusty tactics book. Page one, lump it towards the big man up front. This has always worked in the past, but now he has a dodgy knee. We know that lumping it towards Johnno doesn't work, so spent the morning trying to get Johnno to balance on Evo's shoulders. It was a bit crap - Evo couldn't jump and they still only came up to five foot eight.

Anyway, decided to see what was on page two of my tactics book. Gobsmacked to find that THERE IS NO PAGE TWO.. .when he sold it to me, Harry Bassett told me that it would have all the ideas I'd need for a lifetime in management.

Still can't use my mobile to call all my manager mates 'cause of the cuts, so I sneaked into Mr Arthur's room and called the manager of the Jamaican National Team. I had the idea that if we swapped our Marlon King (who doesn't score goals) for theirs (who does) then that might improve things. He laughed and told me to motivate my own Marlon. I said that the only thing that works is to tell him to keep away from the ground, so how will he ever score one of those goal things?

Had a board meeting this morning and Nigel and Mr Arthur explained about the financial structure. It seems that we are trying to save on shirt printing by only signing players with very short names. Ah, this explains King, Jess, Evans, Impey and the rest. Now I understand why we didn't sell Reidy and why they wouldn't let me sign Chris Bart-Williams. I also had to get Spencer Weir-Daley into the office and tell him that, at 50p a letter, he's got no future in the game. I asked how Robbo gets in the side with such a long name but it turns out that he's not a footballer at all - just Capital One's employee of the month.

Wednesday, October 6

Another great day on Trentside - I got in the paper! Mr Arthur saw the headline and came to see me. He said: "'Tenth by Christmas? You fat oaf, are you talking about the bloodyy moral league table again?". You can tell he comes from a cricket club 'cause he doesn't understand football at all. I sat him down and explained it: "Look, we have nine games left before December. If all the other teams lose all their matches and we average four points a game, we'll be 21 points clear of Wigan by then. If we average six points a game we could even be promoted by New Year!" He didn't get it and went off in a bad mood to leave some phones in the ticket office off the hook.

After my interview with the paper, I got the debt down by a couple of million and then we had training. I walked into the dressing room and there were my boys, my athletes. Jessy was trying to psych himself up, sitting the corner going: "We're doomed, we're doomed". Doigy had put his boots on the wrong feet and still had one left over. Boppy was trying his chat-up lines out in the mirror: "Come here, Darlink. Let me stroke your love button like I stroke a forty yard pass out to ze left ving."

I looked for my little Irish genius, but Reidy wasn't there. There was a Guinness poster on the wall under his peg that I hadn't seen before, so I went and gazed at it, for old times sake. Then I twigged - I've seen that film 2,000 times and I even remember the end. I ripped the poster off the wall and there was Reidy, digging his way to Tottenham with a spoon. Ungrateful swine, I made him into a £10 million player and he treats me like that.

Training was cool. We did sprints and I came third. I beat Johnno by a very long way and he's a world class athlete. It says a lot for the coaching staff if even the manager's getting quicker every week.

After training, me and the coaches played 'find the lady'. I said: "It used to have a different name in my day, hunt the...", but they shushed me and said that Mr Arthur takes it personally when we say that. It was a cracking game and I thought I'd done well until Bomber did the maths for me and it turns out that I was unlucky enough to lose by two-and-a-half million points. Then Liam told me that they play for a pound a point! Damn, better go and tell Nigel that the debts gone up again.

Thursday, October 7

Oh bloody hell. Me and publicity. I got into work today at the crack of noon and Mr Arthur pulled me to one side. I'm always a bit worried when he smacks the riding crop against his boot like that. "What is this in the paper about you going to frigging Scandinavia, you imbecile? WHAT ABOUT THE DEBT?" I had to explain that, of course, I hadn't been anywhere, just here, planning my tactic and looking for tall players in the 1997 Rothman's. 

"Look," I said, "I've got a world-wide reputation as a wheeler and dealer, who can find talented players for no money and sell them on for millions. Now Evo was a bargain but he won't be ready for the Premiership or Real Madrid for a couple of years and people are starting to question my ability."

"So?" he said, taking hold of my left testicle in that unpleasant manner of his.

"So I told the Post I'd been to Scandinavia looking at players and next week I'll say that were too much money or weren't good enough. That way I get in the paper twice and don't even have to put my coat on."

He started to squeeze. Quite hard. He looked me in the eye and said: "Don't ever lie to our supporters again, fat boy. That's my job."

I had another scare after that. They say a manager's finished once he loses the dressing room and, blow me, I lost it today. Luckily I found it again. It was behind the door marked 'home team'. The lads, my little angels, were out training, so I put some thought into team selection. It's hard getting a side together, what with the debt and two or three hundred injuries, but you have to try and use your imagination. After an hour I had a playmaker and an abrasive midfield general down, Imps and Jessy. Then I got a bit stuck. In the end I found last week's team sheet and decided to use that. They say you should never change a winning team. Maybe it's the same for losing teams as well.

The lads came in from training. They'd managed to keep the debt down a bit by not getting their kit all sweaty. Big Wes had even made some daisy chains and Doigy had done some colouring. I had an idea. Paul Hart got sacked after he cancelled last years Christmas party. That's when the players started playing crap on purpose and telling him they were all sleeping with his daughter. My idea is to start planning the Christmas party now so that the lads have something to distract them from all the football. I asked for suggestions. Doigy wanted to go trick or treating, Boppy wanted to go to Isis with that new stuff he has that makes ladies go all floppy,. Jessy wanted to see the new documentary about the Holocaust and Evo wanted to go and twat someone in the Market Square. A little pudgy hand went up at the back. It was my special boy. "What about you, Reidy" I asked. "Where do you want to go?" There was a catch in his throat and a tear in his eye as he said: "Tottenham."

Apparently Forest used to be quite good under their old manager, Clougher, though obviously not like today's glory days. I bet HE couldn't have got two draws on the pre-season tour to America. Anyway, all the old players are always going on about how witty he was so I'm going to start including some of my own football philosophy in this diary.

JOE KINNEAR'S WISE SAYINGS

#1. If God hadn't wanted us to knock it long down the channels, he would have made the goals a lot wider.

#2. Best if you let Reidy take the free-kicks and corners.

#3. Even geniuses can be unlucky for very long periods at a time.

#4. Top ten by December.

Friday, October 8

Mr Arthur told me that he would smack me in the mouth if I got into the papers today, so I have been trying to be very, very quiet. Not many people know that I have been so committed to my job here in Nottingham that I have been sleeping at my desk. Actually the club won’t put me up in a hotel and I can’t go home 'cause it’s too close to my old mate Arsene’s house.

I had a strange experience in the middle of the night. I woke up and heard a strange rustling sound. It led me down a corridor I’d never seen before. I heard snoring coming from behind a closed door and, when I opened it, saw a middle-aged man, asleep at a desk, covered in dust and cobwebs. He looked as if he’d been there for months. The sign on his desk said ‘Chief Scout’. He woke with a start and told me that his name was Ian Storey-Moore.

I didn’t know we had any scouts and that’s why I go abroad as often as possible. He said he’d been the scout for ages but hadn’t left his office for about five years. Apparently Mr Arthur put bulldog clips on his nipples the last time he put in travel expenses and, apart form the occasional walk down the embankment, he just keeps out of the way. I left him to sleep and followed the rustling sound.

I found another huge room, almost as big as a football pitch. The room was full of money. Piles and piles of £50 notes, reaching up to the ceiling. In the middle sat Mr Arthur at a desk, counting notes into piles. Nigel sat behind him in a leather armchair stroking a white cat. Next to him was a model of the ground, only the football pitch was tiny – about the size of a penalty area – and the rest was covered with huge flats. Blimey, I though as I crept away, all this money must be the debt. No wonder we have to economise.

We had training today. I have got a series of specialist exercises for specialist positions. I let Gerrard have a nap while I got the defenders to kick balls at the electricity pylon two fields away. I couldn’t do much in attacking terms as Taylo is injured and Kingy has gone to watch the other Kingy score goals for Jamaica. I got Johnno to run round in circles with his eyes shut.

As for the midfield, I let Reidy sit in an armchair while the rest of them fetched him things. This started out very well – he made Jessy get him a cup of tea and a cheese sandwich and Boppy had to get him a pork pie and a packet of Quavers. So far so good, but then he made Imps get him and A to Z of London and, when he asked for a Tottenham shirt with ‘Reid 37’ on it, I had to impose some discipline and beg him not to hurt my feelings any more. 

I got a bit bored this afternoon so spent about half an hour ringing Arsene and putting the phone down before he could answer it. This is great fun, does not cost anything and does not strictly breach the terms of my restraining order. I won’t be ringing my old mate Fergie for a while since he sent Roy Keane round to explain that I can’t borrow any players at the moment.

MORE OF JOE KINNEAR'S WISE SAYINGS

#5. F**k off, Birtles, and mind your own business.

#6. It only takes one deflection off a big lad up front to score a goal.

#7. Stick with me, Tank, and I’ll make you world class.

#8. I wouldn’t say I’m the best manager in the world...