Bleedin’ ‘Ell

So Gianfranco Zola vows to haul back West Ham from the trapdoor and a million east-end eyebrows jump skywards. We thought that Zola had slunk off to the Mediterranean never to return, like a cancerous cat finds a far-off meadow to lay down and die in.

Who knows what happened out in Sardinia? Perhaps the Zola famiglia rallied around the little man and cooked him a dinner to elevate his ailing spirits. With large furry-lipped aunts in black dresses dolloping grotesque amounts of fortifying ravioli onto his plate, and sage elders cursing the names of Sullivan and Gold while aggresively breaking focaccia and slurping olive oil. And as the vino flowed, Zola will have collected his thoughts and resolved to fight on.

All of which must have come as sour news for the rumoured heir-apparent Steve McClaren, lurking in some Whitechapel alley like Jack the Ripper under an FA-branded golf umbrella, waiting to pounce.

If his past ill-conceived attempts to ingratiate himself with the locals in the Low Countries are anything to go by, then we can expect McClaren to be polishing up his pearly king outfit and asking not to be referred to as the manager, rather the lor’ blimey guvnor.

Love a duck. Love a fucking duck.

Daviours?

West Ham now have new owners. They’re both called David. They both like selling pictures of naked ladies. One of them sports an untrustworthy beard. The other has horse called David Junior. Neither of them is an Emirati billionaire. None of this information has been lost on the West Ham fans who have greeted the news with suspicious ambivalence. As a supporter myself, I am prepared to overlook the smutty origins of the cash injection and even the shady facial hair. The pair built the foundation for the current success at Birmingham City. It’s a relief to be managed by people who can work a calculator. And in Gold’s case, a backer who will wear the claret-and-blue scarf and mean it.

The one line today that holds particular intrigue is the appointment of Karren Brady as vice-chairman. She will tend to the club’s administrative needs on a daily basis. Last I heard she was due to appear as Margaret Mountford, Sir Alan Sugar’s assistant on the next series of The Apprentice. It’s the kind of moonlighting that rings alarm bells with West Ham fans. We remember when Ian Wright signed just as he embarked on a career as a rubbish television presenter.

Fortunately I’m told that filming of the show is already in the can, and Brady can set about her new job without distraction. She might even employ a few techniques she learnt from her predecessor in the boardroom. Maybe we’ll see her standing behind the goal armed with a notepad, face expressionless save for one raised eyebrow as Robert Green flaps at another corner.