I wasn't washed up at 21! In your face underling!

Hello loyal readers! It’s me again. Your good friend, your chum, your confidant, Michael Phillip Owen. I thought I’d drop you all a note to let you know that I’m still alive (and yes, uninjured) and back in the UK after my two weeks training in Austria. Phew!

I won’t lie to you all. It’s been an arduous few weeks but I’ve done everything I could to impress upon the coaches that I am still as sharp as a knife and ready to lead England to glory. Which seemed to have worked a treat as Capello insisted, via my lawyer, that I should stay in Austria “impressing” whilst the rest of the squad take part in two friendlies in an attempt to prove their worth ….. suckers!

And so I returned to England to wait and see if I am one of the seven poor saps who are surplus to requirements and will not be making the final 24…

The tension in the house was palpable.

Louise and her new personal trainer Paolo came in on Tuesday morning to wake me up but I was already alert and ready with my phone in my hand – fully expecting a call from the boss. It’s quite sweet how eager those two are for me to make it to South Africa, I overheard Paolo saying to Louise “I hope he just leaves!” as she wept emotionally into the nook of his powerful arms. It’s been very emotional for her. I’m very touched by his encouragement and didn’t realise that despite his suspicious sounding surname he really is a fan! He has even insisted I sleep on the sofa bed to aid with the re-duperating process. Legend.

Anyway it got to early evening and I had still not heard anything, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit concerned. No news is good news they say. But does that apply here? I wasn’t sure so I popped round to see Jason McAteer who stays in a makeshift cardboard abode just behind the bins from my estate but he wasn’t  there. I forgot it was ‘Meth Clinic Tuesday’.

As I turned to meander back to my house I was greeted by the sound of Five Sport and melodic voice of Garth Crooks emanating from my neighbour Ron’s garden radio. I focused in a second. Names and numbers begun flashing in front of my eyes ……… Theo wasn’t making the plane. Nor was Huddlestone (surprise!). Parker neither. Once the rejects had been read out I could take a breathe and know that I, Michael Phillip Owen, wasn’t one of those unfortunate seven! As if it were ever in doubt. In your face Theo! There is only room for one prodigious, lightning quick youth in the final squad. ME. I’m the Peter Pan of English football! I was so happy I momentarily considered vaulting over the front gate but decided not to risk it.

Now some people feel sorry for young Theo but he gets no sympathy from me. No no. Did you see England’s display against Japan? I could only describe England’s attacking threat as both ‘toothless’ and ‘impotent.’ Just like my Uncle Jeff. Ha!

Anyway I’m off to book a flight. See you in South Africa!*

Toodles!

Michael ‘double tap’ Owen

* Except you Theo! You baby faced piss lantern!