Not the Premier League

BIG SAM AND REIDY IN...DISGRACE

Well, I'm back in Thailand with Reidy, home sweet home. We've settled back into the hotel basement and Reidy's managed to jemmy open the drain which serves the laundry room. As much dry cleaning fluid as we can drink - blinding. It's not a cheap hotel, five star sort of thing, but you get what you pay for in this life, as my lad Craig is fond of saying. It's good to be back in Thailand, especially after what happened this Saturday back home.

Strictly Come Dancing had started well enough. I'd been training hard for me freestyle dance. Tess of the D'Alys had even complimented me on my footwork so I was well pleased with that. Perhaps she wants a real man, not that daft lad who's taken poor Les Denniseseses' food off his kiddies' table.

Unfortunately, the Danish dancer lass had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction during the routine which led, totally accidentally as I stated at the time, to me hand going right into her downstairs locker-room like, and me wearing her like a glove puppet as I spun her above my head. I tried to shake her off but she was stuck fast. Her eyes were watering a bit but fair play to her, she took it like a man. Luckily, Reidy is good in a crisis and was on hand with some WD-40 to free the poor cow. He even offered her one of his special WD-40 and soda cocktails to calm her nerves but she didn't want it. They're not big drinkers these Danes. I remember taking Henrik Pedersen on a golf day and he couldn't handle his ale to say the least. He was as sick as a rat by the third tee, and we'd only had about eight pints and a few nips of Brasso from Roxy, my trusty hip-flask.

By now there was uproar in the studio and someone called the coppers. Fortunately, Reidy always has an escape route planned from any building just in case something kicks off, and we managed to sneak away by stealing a Variety Club bus from the special car park.

At the airport, to save all the usual 'No Monkeys Allowed On The Plane' nonsense that we always have to go through, Reidy had brought along a couple of diplomatic bags. He'd managed to pinch them from the Thai Embassy at this reception where he insisted that they served Brillo Pads drenched in snake venom and vodka, which I told him was obviously bloody rubbish as everyone knows you have gin with a Brillo pad. Still, he had the bags either way and so we climbed in and jumped into the old luggage van thing. Always thinking is Reidy. Always numb from the venom too.

So we got through customs and onto the plane no bother, although it was bloody cold in that cargo hold. I did some in-depth research on Prozone later and discovered I was 71% more likely to be involved in a diplomatic incident than Jose Mourinho, who is top class at causing trouble, and also that I had travelled more miles in a bag than any other top football professional who wasn't dead beforehand. Proof once again of my class. It's that kind of top-of-the-tree performance that has got me where I am today; stowed away on Thai Air, body temperature dangerously low, listening to Peter Reid sobbing gently.

NEWS UPDATE...WITH ME YOUR HOST ELTON WELSBY...NEWS UPDATE...I'M BACK, BITCHES...

AN INCREASINGLY DESPERATE

Phil Scolari, at a loss to explain his team's 4-0 home defeat to Aston Villa, punched every player in the face as they came off the pitch on Sunday.

The laughing Brazilian appeared at his post-match press conference with blood smears on his hands and forehead, and announced the entire squad has been sent to their rooms without any tea. He explained his disciplinarian approach, saying: "I treat them like a stepfather treats his new wife's ginger child. That is to say, not so good."

WITH ARSENAL'S ONLY win of the season coming against Hull last week, a fly-on-the-wall documentary about Arsène Wenger has revealed that his legendary professorial tactical nous includes instructing Walcott to "Just run fast and hope for the best you little c**t", telling Almunia to "try and stop the ball for Christ's sakes" and berating Fabregas for "not getting rid of the f***ing ball quickly enough, tosspot".

IN OTHER HEADLINES

Keegan: 'Barton filmed himself kissing sheep'.

Liverpool stolen while asleep.

Moyes insists 'I was Glasgow's top male model'.

New FA fitness advice: 'Sodomy doesn't count as exercise or as one of your daily five-a-day'.

BBC pundits to take on Sky rivals in cage fight.

GREAT MOMENTS IN CINEMA, NUMBER ONE

(INTERIOR OF GRIMY PUB)

MARWOOD: (Nervously): I've been called a ponce.

WITHNAIL (Loudly, addressing the whole bar): What f***er said that?

IRATE IRISHMAN: I called him a ponce. And now I'm calling you one. Ponce!

WITHNAIL (Terrified): Would you like a drink, Mr Kinnear?

IRATE IRISHMAN: What's your name? McF*ck?

WITHNAIL: No sir, I work for the newspaper. I have a heart condition. Please Mr Kinnear. If you hit me, it's murder.

IRATE IRISHMAN: I'll murder the pair of yous! F***ing journalist c****!

NOT THE PREMIER LEAGUE TABLE

1. Hull City

2. Wigan

3. Stoke City

4. Fulham

5 - 16. The usual mid-table also-rans

17. Newcastle United

18. Manchester United

19. Arsenal

20. Chelsea

MORI LEVY POLL

We asked: 'Who Is To Blame For The Situation At Newcastle?'

31 % said Joe Kinnear

27 % said Mike Ashley

16 % said Laura Ashley, the southern floral print bitch

13 % said sell-out scum like Ant

12 % said that Dec seems alright though

1 % said Frank Lampard.

Alan Tyers and John Nicholson