The Rehabilitation Of Colin McDougall, Football Pundit

After being ‘let go’ by a notable sports broadcaster in 2007 for reasons that have never fully been disclosed, veteran football pundit/commentator Colin McDougall has now been re-invited back into the fold. BettingExpert.com has been granted full access to Colin’s return from the football wilderness with exclusive monthly excerpts from his diaries.

Headset

He shoots. He scores. Back. Of. The Net!

Got the call from the bigwigs over at [name omitted for legal reasons] last Tuesday to come in for a sit down lunch with a view to doing a few guest spots on their Sunday morning brunchy thing. “It’s time Colin,” they begged. “Nobody remembers why we got rid of you in the first place and it’s obvious the public misses your razor sharp analysis and no-holds barred opinions” or words to that effect any way.

Played it cool. Kept a long pause to keep them on tenterhooks. In all fairness, I was trying to stifle a cough after a bit of the ploughman’s I’d settled down to got stuck in my windpipe. Plus, I’d forgotten to turn the volume down on the repeat of Cash In The Attic. “I’ll get my people to call your people,” I responded.

Spent the next half-day begging the ex-wife to give them a bell and just tell them, “yes”. That’s another weekend I lose in parental access but I’m going to be busy at weekends from now on, so it’s worth the sacrifice. After all, they don’t know anything at that age, do they? And McDonald’s isn’t about to go bust.

Over at [………] headquarters and the place is unrecognisable from the last time I was there. Alright, I was being frog-marched out back then but who’s splitting hairs? All these kids in the studio playing sports journalists with their trousers hanging down and their haircuts, fiddling about on twotter with their app-phones. And not a whiff of Paco Rabanne to be had.

Into the meeting room. “I’m starving,” I say. “Anybody got any sandwiches?” Bigwigs point to the chicken tikka wraps and couscous on foil platters, which I pocket a few of when I get a moment to myself for the drive home. Still, not quite a cheese and onion roll, but you’ve got to move with the times, I always say.

“We want one-word answers to the following,” they say.

“Fire away,” I respond.

“Harry Redknapp”

“Diamond”

“Joey Barton”

“Gobshite”

“Michael Owen”

“Argentina”

“Andy Gray”

“Gent”

“Tim Lovejoy”

“Genius”

“Big Ron”

“Innovator”

“John Terry”

“Leader”

“10 grand per appearance?”

“That’ll do nicely”

“That’s three words but we get your gist. When can you start?”

Now what are my public engagements for the coming month? Booked for Extra Time With Colin McDougall at the Millfield Theatre in Edmonton on the 18th as part of the autobiography tour but if I have to spend one more evening in a half-empty auditorium fielding questions on Gary Lineker’s enduring charm, I might end up going ape on a stick.

“How about now?”

McDougall’s back, baby! McDougall’s back!

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