
All right, mates? How am I? Don’t ask! What a flippin’ HELL of a week your little mate Craig’s just had! What? Beyond flippin’ belief! Don’t take my word for it, mind. Oh no. Just have a butchers at these excerpts from me diary:
SUNDAY: The missus knew this was going to be a stressful week for me, so she said, ‘Come on, luvver, I’ll give you a nice relaxing neck massage’. So I sat there, right, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Still nothing was happening. I said, ‘Er, what’s the problem?’ She said, ‘Sorry, luvver, I’m still trying to find your neck!’ Flippin’ cheek! I tried to rise above it, as usual, so, cool as a cucumber, I said, ‘I believe you’ll locate it, luvver, under me ears and above me shoulders’. So she had a root around and then she said, ‘Oooh, it’s quite hard to fit me thumbs there, luvver’. That did it. I snapped. I said, ‘That’s because your flamin’ thumbs are so flippin’ FAT!!! I was flippin’ FURIOUS. Went out for a quick kickabout in the back garden, but a car alarm went off down the road and I kept thinking it was someone whistling for offside (which, incidentally, I most definitely was not!). Went back inside, put the meat in the oven and turned on the telly. What a load of absolute CONKERS! Gloria flippin’ Hunniford talking about what Heaven's like to some flamin’ Nobby Nomates? Ben flippin’ foppish Fogle, lah-di-dahing it near some flamin’ animals (memo to TV bosses: I’ve seen enough flippin’ LIONS to last a flamin’ LIFETIME, thank you very much!!!)? A flippin’ hairy VICAR doing summat or other in a community centre near HULL??? You must be flippin’ JOKING! Real rubbish the lot of it. I ended up having to watch lower league football on ITV. What’s that you ask? ‘Why not watch Sky?’ Well, maybe I would if I hadn’t had that argument with them last week when the screen froze 23 minutes into an absolutely crackin’ episode of Diagnosis Murder and only started working again five flippin’ flamin’ minutes into Chucklevision! Anyway, to cut a long story short, I had a full and frank exchange of views with someone on the other end of the phone, and we agreed it would probably be best, in the short term, if he took my flippin Sky dish AND SHOVED IT UP HIS FLIPPIN’ ARSE!!!! So me viewing options are a bit limited at present. Oh well, there was still Antiques Roadshow, then I’m a Celebrity, so I went to bed a bit calmer than I expected. Still a heck of a day though.

MONDAY: Woke up and decided it’s high time I got meself organised. I don’t mean ‘me,’ as such – apart from the fact that the old Bellamy body tends to get a bit, what’s a polite way of putting it?, ‘affected’ while it’s asleep (so much so that when I wake up I often think that someone’s pitched a flippin’ TENT on top of me bed!) – I mean me Christmas shopping plans. Now that Farepak’s gone down the tubes I’m in a right old state, and there’s not long before the flippin’ festive season starts! So I worked out some rough ideas for me prezzie list:
The Missus: Tricky. Very tricky. The Luxury Screwdriver, Hammer and Ratchet Set went down like the proverbial lead balloon last year, for some unknown reason. She didn’t talk to me again until we had that bottle of Malibu on Boxing Day evening. I think I’d better play it safe this year and buy her a beauty makeover.
Me Mam: The usual: a china sheep. It makes her happy, that’s the main thing.
Mr Benitez: I’m giving this some really careful thought. Maybe something from his own country, like a crate of Chianti. I’m not sure. I really want to make the right impression.
Mr Toshack: I’ve pencilled in a Domino’s Pizza Gold Club Card.
Dirk: Great idea for my mate Dirky: a big box of meat, like they give away on that David Letterman show.
Stevie Gerrard: Tintin books. He’s a fanatic. That’s why he has his hair like that. Seriously. He even calls me Snowy. The man is absolutely obsessed.
Carra: Apparently, Jamie is a massive fan of Wings, so I plan to get him the ‘Paul McCartney and Wings’ Wingspan box set of CDs, which comes with a colour book of photos, a ‘Vegetable Dishes that Taste Like Meat Dishes’ cookbook (ugh!) and a special £2 off voucher for Sir Paul’s new classical CD (not that he'll want THAT!).
Peter Crouch: Pete is a problem, but I found this place called ‘High & Mighty’ where you can buy extra long and/or wide clothes, so I might buy him a pair of ‘Beanpole’ kecks made out of moleskin.
Barry Scott: A great big cork for his gob! Ha, only joking. He’ll get a pair of socks and be grateful.
Robbie Savage: Er, yes, now, Robbie…what was I thinking of for him? Oh, yes, I remember: absolutely flippin’ NOTHING!!!!!
All I know is it’s going to be one HECK of a rush! Flippin’ flamin’ Farepak!

TUESDAY: Had to give Salif Diao a real talking to on the phone this morning. The lad is a CRACKING chef, but since he went to Stoke he’s gone all doo-lally! He keeps talking about football! I said to him, ‘Sal, mate, focus: MEAT!’ He said, ‘Craig, I am busy rediscovering the joy of being a disciplined holding midfielder. And besides, I read a very interesting interview with that Heather Mills McCartney, who is a vegetarian-‘ I said, ‘STAY EXACTLY WHERE YOU FLIPPIN’ WELL ARE!!!!’ Intervention time! I got in me flippin’ car and drove straight off to Stoke. Ding-Dong! ‘Hello? Oh, Craig! What the…?’ I said, ‘I am here, Sal, mate, to bring you back from the flippin’ dark side!’ He said, ‘Is that a box of MEAT you are carrying?’ I said, ‘Look and learn, Sal, look and flippin’ flamin’ learn!’ Then I marched off with him to the Hungry Biscan and went straight into the flippin’ kitchen, right, just like that Gordon Ramsay would do, right, and I did what your mate Craig does best: I COOKED SOME FLIPPIN’ MEAT!!!!! I looked at Sal, as we were tucking in, and, to be fair, the lad had tears in his eyes. He choked up: ‘You have a gift, my friend…’ I said, ‘Sal, mate, so do you, and I’m flippin’ NOT going to let you throw it away!’ He clutched his knife and fork really tight, so his knuckles were really pale, like, and blubbed: ‘I am so foolish sometimes!’ When I drove off, he was wearing his apron and chef's hat again. Mission accomplished, I think. It’s like me Mam always says: ‘You spread a bit of flippin’ sunshine wherever you go, Craig!’ She’s not wrong.

WEDNESDAY: Not much done during the day. Bit of shopping, bit of telly. Did some neck stretching exercises. Got neck ache. Watched Deal Or No Deal - flippin' nerve-wracking! European Championship match at night against them Dutch lads. Me on the flippin’ bench. Thirteen minutes to go. Pennant goes down. Looked like a tweaked hamstring. In the face. Freak injury or what?? Who knows? The important point is: your mate Craig came on! Was it my imagination or did George ‘Boom-Boom’ Sephton forget to say I was coming on? I was too busy trying to listen to the Gaffer to notice. He kept showing me these diagrams and wotnot – between you and me, I had not the slightest idea what he was on about, but I nodded and ran on the pitch. What happened when I came on? Pande-flippin’-monium! I ran them ragged! Foot there, foot there, shot: bump! Corner. ‘Well done, Craig, mate!’ Oh, yes, I was flippin’ sharp, me. Then the second goal. Dirk ran here, Luis ran there, and little Craig scared the rest of them to DEATH! Peter Crouch got the header, which was easy after I’d practically hypnotised the defenders with me cobra-like movement. Peter, of course, was ecstatic. I just wish he wouldn’t pick me up like that when he scores though – he makes me feel like a flippin’ teddy. Albeit one with a bony little arse.

THURSDAY: Cardiff today: me court appearance. Quite excited, really, because I’ve always been a big fan of Perry Mason on the telly. I could picture meself doing well at that sort of lark: ‘And I put it to you, Mr Savage…’ ‘But how do you account for those FIVE missing minutes, Mr Savage?’ ‘That was your fatal error, Mr Savage!’ Oh yes, I quite fancy meself doing that. ‘Bellamy of the Bailey’. Anyway, back to today and me own court appearance. Of course, it got off to an absolutely farcical start. ‘If the Defendant does not come into court within the next five minutes,’ said the Judge, ‘he will be held in contempt’. So I said, ‘Your Honour, me lord, sir, I’m already here!’ He went, ‘Who said that?’ I said, ‘Me! Craig Bellamy! The controversial footballer. I’m here!’ He said, ‘Where?’ So I said, ‘HERE! Can’t you see me????’ He said, ‘No. Is someone throwing their voice? Where exactly are you?’ I said, ‘Here – in the flippin’ witness box!’ So the Judge goes, ‘Aha! How very extraordinary. Whilst not wishing to condone your somewhat foul-mouthed outburst, which must not be repeated, I can see how your somewhat over-compact physical situation has contributed to the present confusion. I therefore suggest, in this unusual case, that someone finds a rather large BOX upon which Mr Bellamy can stand, otherwise we will be addressing all our questions to a mere suspicion of an individual’. They all laughed at this, even though it wasn’t remotely funny. These Judges are surrounded by flippin’ yes men! Anyway, some clerk or whatever he was came in with a flippin’ crate and the proceedings started. In a flippin’ HECK of a mood, I was, but I tried me best to hide it. I certainly looked the part: I had on me grey ‘Adam Adamant’ suit, burgundy ‘tall man’ shoes, a nice cream shirt and one of me trademark ‘quadruple-Windsor-knotted’ ties. Flippin’ lovely. Anyway, I only had to say me name, then I was back down watching the flippin’ proceedings from the bench. So not much of a flamin’ change from recent matches! Well, they called the first flippin’ nutter to testify: basically, right, she claimed that I called her ‘fat’ and ‘ugly,’ then we had a bit of a push and a shove and then her tits blew up! I mean, what a load of absolute CONKERS! I could barely contain meself. The Judge said, ‘Mr Bellamy, please remember that you are in a court of law – not on a football pitch! Now will you please stop standing there, with arms outstretched, an incredulous grin on your face, saying, “Oi! OI!!! JUDGE!!!†Sit down and be quiet!’ Flippin’ Hitler, that bloke!
I managed to get some training in at Cardiff City’s ground later in the day. The Gaffer and Paco had given me a special programme to follow: it was a bit of paper with ‘Don’t get caught offside’ written on it. Yet another sign of how much they think of me! ‘Our Craig’s just about perfect so we’ll just state the obvious and send him on his way’. I don’t know the Spanish but I’m sure that’s the gist of it.

FRIDAY: Second day in court. This time I had to listen to the mate of the other woman waffling on about me in what, to be absolutely frank, was a flippin’ fantastical manner. I looked at the Judge every now and again and rolled me eyes; he knew what I meant all right. Oh aye. Went to the Adelphi Hotel later in the day for the VIP launch of the Argos Christmas 2006 Catalogue! Really excited. Upon arrival, me and the missus were given an absolutely smashin’ goody bag (containing some chocolates, a mini can of Tizer, a pencil sharpener, a corkscrew, a microwaveable milk jug, and…an absolutely smashin’ portable cassette recorder!) as well as, of course, a shrink-wrapped catalogue (that one’s going straight to the binders!). I picked up another copy and turned to page 234, and there they were: the first items in The Craig Bellamy Collection, there for sale, at some very reasonable prices, in the brand new Argos catalogue! ‘Ooh, luvver,’ said the missus, ‘you must be dead proud, eh!’ I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was too emotional.

SATURDAY: Match day: Manchester City at home. ‘You are our secret weapon, Craig,’ said the Gaffer. ‘Stay out of sight at the back of the dugout’. Flippin’ heck! He really, really, rates me, does the Gaffer! Dead made up, me. When the game needed sewing up, I was finally inflicted on the Mancs – huge ovation I got when I replaced Dirk. Oh yes. Job done, more applause, strode back off having hardly broken sweat. A very satisfying end to one HECK of a week. Had a quick shower, put a bit of mousse in the old hair, then off for home – and then I found that someone else had scratched me flippin’ car. In a flamin’ HECK of a mood when I got home. ‘Let me do that neck massage, luvver,’ said the missus. ‘I am going to bed,’ I said, went straight upstairs and slammed the flippin’ door. Came straight down again because I realised I was flippin’ starving, but felt really angry all through Strictly Come Dancing, and didn’t wait up for the results update. Flippin’ HECK of a week!