Diary of a squad player, part 9

Get em washed, scuzzball

Saturday, 1 January
Not playing today - not even in the squad. People think it's ace being a footballer, that all we do is shag birds or watch Sky Sports News all day while having massages and free toast. There's some of that but people don't see the other side - the hurt of rejection. And some wanker chucked me phone in the shower after training. It had all me numbers on it. Tried drying it out on the radiator when I got home but I'm not hopeful.

Sunday, 2 January
Looks like I'm going on loan. Me agent reckons there's a few clubs interested but I'm not sure. Me dad reckons I should stay and fight for my place, and I think he's right. If I stay and give it till the summer maybe I can do something here. Plus I've finally sorted me Waitrose delivery details out, so it'd be a shame to have to re-do it all.

Monday, 3 January
Not in the squad again. Hope they get stuffed.

Tuesday, 4 January
Ha! Three fucking nil, and Ellsie had a stinker! Cheered me right up that - no way is he better than me. All he does is bladder the ball up the pitch. No finesse. Plus he thinks just cos he washes his hands after going the bog he's better than us. Fair dos if you've been sat down, but for a piss? That's just daft.

Wednesday, 5 January
Boss had me in after training to talk about my future. He reckons I should go on loan so that looks like it. I'm not going up north though, or to Scotland. It's too cold and the women are disgusting - eating pasties in the street and that.