The Secret Diary of Pedro Caixinha

I’m up with the larks for the 6 a.m. mass at Bearsden convent. The kids are literally climbing the walls of our suite at The Premier Inn. José is trying to fit his twin brother Mosè into the trouser press. They are driving me potty; which reminds me to check on Doo Doo at training after I rinse their pink receptacles in the toilet. The baby, Henrik, whom I called after my hoops hero, has not stopped crying since his baptism. I realise that The Lisbon Lions Mobiles are becoming a bit stale but chin up young prince called after the King of Kings.

Henrik Larsson, Henrik Larsson, Henrik Larsson is the King of Kings.”

As I am dressing in the dark I mistakenly pull on my Celtic replica shirt. I don’t realise it until I turn up at training. Shop steward Lee Wallace is the first to clear his throat. I check to see if my Spanish Fly is undone. All present and correct, or as my English tutor has suggested: spectacles, testicles, wallet. The club are desperate for me to stop blessing myself and would prefer that I revert to this aide-memoire.

I thought of sending one of the kids, young Billy Gimour, round to the Glasgow Airport Shop to pick up a 32 Teds shirt, but I was told that it had closed down as  Dave King was pilfering stock left, right, and centre. Young Billy has apparently been sold but if truth be told I cannot tell one Billy from the next. Is everyone in Glasgow called Billy? Where is their sense of imagination? Their running with the bulls spirit? Which reminds me that I must get my haemorrhoids attended to after a touching cloth incident at Pamplona.

Training is becoming a bilingual nightmare. The Scottish lads are having difficulty mastering:

Arrumar o fuckwit do parque” which translates to hoof it up the park fuckwit. And here was me naively trying to introduce a passing game. John Brown came by to wish us good luck. With his thinning red hair and buffed brown brogues he reminded of the time young José discovered the Swan Vestas and presented young Mosè with a potty of poo with a match stuck firmly in the mire.

As he caught site of my Celtic top I could hear him mutter ‘fucking taig’ under his breath which I am assured is effectively a term of affection compared to some of the more robust rhetoric in the Brown lexicon. I must remember not to bless myself when Brown is galvanising the troops: Spectacles, testicles, wallet

I must admit my surprise that Campbell Ogilvie did not manage to squeeze out a few more UEFA coefficient points to spare our blushes. The People, as in WATP, (Nós somos as pessoas) will not be pleased to discover that UEFA consider us to be a new club formed from a confection of assets. There goes our history of bribes, blackmail, tax evasion, dual contracts and unparalleled domestic success. I have a mind to call the ASA for a continuation fix.

After a hard day at Auchenhowie and an evening Novena at St. Aloysius, I used my Iphone app to summon a black cab, which promptly arrived emblazoned with ‘Uber Hail Hail’ livery. It must be a Glasgow thing. The Spanish Butcher was rocking. I ordered a Cervejas and quickly chased it down with a Super Bock.  I noticed that The Bellshill Bounder, Craig Whyte, was holding court with some suits. I overheard talk of a floating charge being given paramountcy. If I were not mistaken he sounded as if he knew what he was talking about. Could another Exocet be heading to Ibrox?

Note to self. Cancel the call to the ASA. Being a new club has its privileges. Time to get back to The Trouble & Strife for some I should Coco. I’m really getting the hang of the lingo. If only my wife knew a different way of dancing when we are getting jiggy jiggy. I’m pretty sure the Samba was not what the Catholic Chutch had in mind when they introduced the rhythm method. If we have any more kids we might have to live in a shoe, preferably a brown brogue.

Nós somos as pessoas!

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19 thoughts on “The Secret Diary of Pedro Caixinha”

  1. Tough read this one JJ, Knot up to your usual standards. Never been a fan of the diary entries but won’t stop me making my small contribution when I can.

    PQ

    1. “Tough read this one JJ, Knot up to your usual standards”….Au Contraire!
      I see the humour…but then again I’m a saddo! Keep going JJ, despite our differences I’m with you all the way.

  2. More like Ralph,Malph from Etims than Jj but thanks for the effort. Just back from the Vegas convention skint but will donate soon.
    Stay safe John.

  3. PQ

    It maybe left field and abstract but it’s a parody of daft fun

    Enjoy your Father’s Day and relax

    Hasta Luego

    Vv

  4. Ha,excellent JJ.Green pounds will be coming your way from me this week.N.B.Pedro will be going to either St.Joseph’s in Milngavie or St.Andrew’s at Bearsden cross for Mass.KTF

  5. Welcome back JJ.
    You certainly dont have your troubles to seek but if you let the doubters get the better of you your fkd.
    As many of your long term contributers also commented you have allowed yourself to be sidetracked by other issues which regardless of how strongly you feel about them have been divisive amongst your following.
    Personally it does not bother me as I ve been here for long enough to have the ability of forming my own opinion and not to dislike others because they have a different opinion.
    I hope you now have had a change of heart and been reinvigerated by the suport shown in last few days.
    Chin up and usual contribution made.
    Atb

    JJ: Thank you KD. The continued support of the 42 who stepped up to contribute is heartening.

  6. Great to see you back, but I will be honest this is a poor article to mark JJ Gold. I’ve never been a fan of the diary entries but each to their own.

  7. Ha ha JJ I can update you that Brother Pedro has now left the Premier Inn as Sevco have found a rented flat for his wife and family.
    But the good old budget hotel is still doing great business with all the Spanish/Portuguese ( or in some sevco sites Brazilian) speaking players ensconced there as it is near the training ground and luckily as accommodation is “room only” they can get their “world class breakfasts” at Auchenhowie

  8. Folks forget wee salary was a Bellshill boy. Probably brought up in the same BB hall as Craig.
    Perhaps they hung out in motherwell together when Salary was on a Motherwell FC schoolboy S-Form.
    It would have been Salary leading Craig astray as Salary is a few years older.
    Gosh, it seems only yesterday he was the new rookie manager, give him a break, he’s learning. :))
    They both deserve bronze statues……. outside Celtic park.

  9. If i do a jj 1901 pay pal you’ll know who i am.
    You are amazing.
    I selfishly read your mind daily and have never “weighed in”
    Stay safe.
    If all things were = you would be a star; which you are.
    David Letterman springs to mind.

  10. Apparently there are three strands of Comedy. Wit, buffoonery and humour. Wit is the clever use of shared language eg I managed to see the tail of the whale but is was just a fluke, is an example of wit. Only those who know the double of meaning of ‘fluke’ get the wit. It evokes a wry smile but seldom a guffaw. Custard pie in the face is bufoonery and beloved by Germans. Humour is often shadenfraude or poking fun at the foibles of self and others and is essentially English in origin though spread to the colonies. Not all Comedy is therefore humour.
    Your diary entries are examples of wit. The least used version of Comedy (all that is not Tragedy) Your first paragraph is laden with witty references for the cogniscenti.
    I enjoy your wit but Knot when it is scatological. That is nought humorous.
    Keep up the excellent prose. Continue being prosaic or promulgating persiflage, a word whose cousin Camo is of course far more concealed.

  11. Fisiano your too clever for your own good

    Your comment is riddled with words I have had to look up to understand their meaning

    I salute you sir

    VV

  12. Apparently San Pedro is signing Enrique Iglesias. He once kicked a ball in a pop video. And Derek Johnstone liked the cut of his jib.

    There’s a hope his WAG, Anna Kournikova, will host Derek for tennis lessons. It’s all classy and dripping wealth down Ibrox way these days. In a remarkable gesture of reciprocity, Derek will treat Anna to his tight fit cheerleading skills.

    No worries regarding Enrique’s football skills, Kenny Miller will bring him on by leaps and bounds.

    In a cultural snap with Miami, there will be fast Speedboats at Govan quay for fast runs to Northern Ireland for smuggling drugs n guns. (Aka lucrative puppies market).

    The club philanthropist billionaire owner hopes for an Enrique cd and DVD feat. the Orange Order’s greatest hits, with a Catholic Latin twist. Strictly for charity and not club funding, of course.

    In memory of William of Orange money will go to homosexual, morbid obesity and asthmatic good causes…….. ….Derek might benefit.

    [pic of Derek Johnstone in cheerleader outfit here]

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