You may have already heard about the Robbie Savage "WHAZZUP!?!" story (and that one will haunt the peroxide blonde MOTD pundit until the day he dies) and Roy's running battles with everybody at Manchester United.
But using a highly placed source (shelf-stacker at Tesco's) - I have gotten my hands on some fresh, shocking stories from the biog. Which is about to make publishing history by being the only major autobiography to be read by the entire universe before it is actually on the bookshelves.
So read on.....
|The Only Known Photo Of Roy Almost Smiling|
Shortly after it was taken, he had the camera-man shot
"One of my earliest memories is of watching me Mam trying to change my nappy. Now, it may sound strange, but even at the age of four months, I could already sense that her heart was not in it. It was fecking Amateur Hour, to be fair.
"Mam!" (I remember saying) "What's the fecking story, like? I could have changed four nappies myself by this stage!" Later on, as I expertly changed my own nappy for the fourth time that day, I apologised to her. I immediately regretted that. Never show weakness. People take advantage.
And by the way, in case you're wondering, it's true. My s**t don't stink.
|"Me In School - Never Understood The Nick-Name, Like"|
"You go to a new school and you have to let people know who you are, what you are about. So, first day, before they'd even put the jerseys out, I walked up to the biggest kid in the school-yard and partially strangled him with a skipping rope. "There you go, Son!" (I said as four teachers and a janitor tried to restrain me) "Have a bit of that".
Later on that day, as the headmaster had a chat with me in a secure location, I almost felt like apologising. But then I saw the respect and/or naked terror in his eyes and I thought; "Job done, like. They know you're serious". It was an important lesson for everybody at the school.
"Fail to prepare - prepare to be partially strangled with a skipping rope."
Later on, I partially strangled two Norwegian defenders at Sunderland. And locked the club chairman in a wheelie-bin full of half-eaten Wagon Wheels. And that year? We got promoted.
|I AM STARING INTO YOUR VERY SOUL|
* Brian Clough And My Big Chance
"It was two days before the big game against Man U and Cloughie pulled me aside. "You, Irishman!" (I let that one pass. A lot of people didn't realise at the time I was actually from Cork). "You're a brave lad. A bit totally basterin' psychotic, mind, but I like that in a player".
The word was, he wanted to start me in the team, but didn't feel it was fair to drop the guy who was already doing a good job for him. The next morning, after the midfielder in question had accidentally run himself over with his lawn-mower, twice, I was in! Of course, some at the club wondered about the accident. Especially as the guy didn't own a lawnmower. And it happened in the men's fashion department of Burton's. But you have to take your chances in this game.
|I don't own one of these - I just stare at the grass until it behaves|
* Fergie And The Fish-Finger Incident
"Standards had been slipping at Manchester United for some time. There was all sorts of moaning going on in the dressing room, silly stuff like "I'm not going to do extra training" or "Roy, I'm begging you, I'll try harder at Everton if you just tell me where you are holding my family!".
But it was in the canteen that the final straw happened. I walked in, cool as a breeze. And then I saw it. The Fish-Fingers were Tesco Own-Brand. Now, the last contract I had signed specifically promised Bird's Eye fish-fingers. And everybody at the club knew how I felt about this issue. Of course, there had been a time when Sir Alex had arrived at 5.30am every morning to check the fish-fingers and make sure there were enough of those fiddly tarter-sauce packets (you know, the ones you can't open and then you do and there's tarter-sauce all over your tracksuit? Those utter bastards?).
But as I said. Standards were slipping. Carlos "El Bastardo" Queiroz (I came up with that one. Ha. Ha.) had been put in charge of the fish-fingers. And the man hadn't a fecking clue. So I marched into Fergie's office and screamed about Captain BirdsEye for 15 minutes. The gaffer tried to put me off by saying "Roy, I haven't a f*****g clue what you're talking about, you mad Irish bastard". But he knew all right. Oh yeah. He knew.
Three days later I was out. Two days later I apologised and was back in again. One day later I completely lost it with a bowl of tartar-sauce and was back out again. Life's funny. Ha. Ha.
* What I have Learned From Football, Like.
"I have… seen things you people wouldn't believe… Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those… moments… will be lost in time, like [small cough] tears… in… rain. Time… to die…"
* Thanks for reading.