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no idea who wrote it, but it is bloody funny:

Ballacks diary

JA! First day in our Surrey training camp and I can test my poor ankle after

my injury. It was fantastic to see the boys again - JT, Sheva, Didier, new

boy Pizarro (who like me are captains of their national teams) and Lampsy.

And the others, the small guys. I do not talk to all of them, the small

boys, kleine jungen.

I wanted a table in our luncheon hall for international captains only but

that was not voted. It is a pity. I had to sit near the Dutch coward-girl

Robben AGAIN today. I, captain of the Deutsche mannschaft with a tiny boy

who cries like the wolfs.

JT is too funny, he calls me 'Jerry' from my first day at the club. He is

brilliant, all day 'Jerry' or sometimes 'Fritz'. Too funny. He and Lampsy

sometimes sing about 'Two World Wars and one World Cup, doo daa, doo daa' -

it is so funny. They are simple boys who aren't listening at school.

Yesterday I made a song called 'Three World Cups, three European

Championships and the perfect economic model of the latter part of the 20th

century, doo daa, doo daa' but they had already gone after trainings when I

was preparing to sing it to them. I sang it instead to Ricky Carvahlo but he

just looked confused. I think he might be mentally simple, but I like him,

he is eine 'top geezer'!

I love the English humour, they know that they are barbarians stuck on an

island for the safety of Europe and only celebrating a 1966 Weltermeister

when the ball isn't crossing the line! Do you know what I say English

Islanders? Verstehst du was ich sage? You shout like the bear in the

woodlands but you are in the truth like the smaller squirrel or cat in size

and achievement!

I took my foot off the gas pedal in training today, and Ashley Cole shouted

at me. I didn't understand what he shouts, but my agent told me aftereards

that "Stop f**king coasting you toolkit" is meaning that I shouldn't put the

work so hard in training because I could make an injury. I shouldn't give

too much power and force in rehearsal games or not-big matches. Ja, is true.

Slow down, ist gut Ashley. A lot of fans come to me and say "stop coasting"

and I am very emotional to know that they are caring for me so much.

Shopping! Ja I love shopping. With my children we can go into the Hamleys

Toy shop and spend hours. It is good value too, I bought a giant Harry

Potter Jigsaw for ?150, das ist perhaps 250 Euros. Then we go to Carnaby

Street where they filmed 'Austin Powers', I walked up and down shouting 'Ja

baby!' like Austin in the films. My children couldn't stop laughing! I love

London. I often invite JT and Lampsy for fish 'n' chips in the Millennium

Wheel but they are always busy. I know Lampsy likes fish 'n' chips, his car

smells of it always.

I arrived early at trainings today for a chat with Mister Jose. He told me I

am starting at zero this season, and I must fight for my place. Of course,

it is obvious. Es ist offensichtlich! But I like a challenge. When I was a

13 years boy at home and the Berlin Wall was fell, I knew that I could

overcome anything. When I score the goals in the half-final of the Champions

League in 02, or World Cup in 02, or in the FA Cup in 07 I proved that I

like a challenge. I will be in the team when I am feeling my ankle better.

This Sidwell boy cannot take my place, he is not even in the England

mannschaft, but I am captain of Germany. Lampsy and I are born to be special

partners for many years.

I did my impression of Austin Powers for Ricky Carvalho at the end of

trainings today. I jumped out of some bushes and shouted 'JA BABY I WANT TO

SHAG YOU!' and he got very afraid, and ran from me. I think he is mentally

retarded. When I make the Austin voice with the German National Mannschaft

(three World Cups and three Euros JT and Lampsy!) World Cup training camp

everyone is laughing, even der boss Klinnsi.

I often make jokes with the German Fuballtrainingslager. Before the 2006

half-final against the Italians I relaxed the squadron by dressing up as

Chris De Burgh and singing 'Lady In Red'. Wunderbar, so funny. One of the

reasons I moved to Chelsea was to be in London near stars like Chris De

Burgh and Michael Bolton.

I love London and cannot wait for the new season. I want to help Chelsea win

the Champions League. And help Ricky Carvalho develop his brain.

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that's from football365- they also did a couple theirry henry diaries, but their best stuff are the gary neville diaries, which they've been doing for years.

Yesterday I made a song called 'Three World Cups, three European

Championships and the perfect economic model of the latter part of the 20th

century, doo daa, doo daa' but they had already gone after trainings when I

was preparing to sing it to them.

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Found the original (?) HERE

it's from football365... as I posted before.

http://www.football365.com/story/0,1703 ... 00,00.html

also see

Thursday January 26 2006

It's been quite a week for The Neviller - sex actions in front of the diiiiirty diiiiirty Scousers, the revelation that Sven is on his way and watching Dancing On Ice with mum. Next week he'll answer your problems...


If I ever kiss a girl (eurrrggh) and become a daddy then I shall call my son (or daughter) after the best person ever, ever, ever. He (or she) will be Sir Neville. I told dad and he was upset so maybe I'll have to call him (or her) Sir Neville Neville. I wonder if they will inherit my bushy moustache.

Phil B***ardsley (ha ha) thinks he can play the most important position on the pitch for the best team ever after last night against Burton. But what he forgot until I told him today in the car park and then during training and then at lunch and then on the phone later was that he was really, really rubbish until I came on and turned the game when we were winning just 3-0 and struggling without me.

I'll tell Sir to send him to Preston.


Sir shouted at me for not giving Phil a bib this morning. He says we need TWO right-backs - this is the worstest thing he's said to me since he told me to 'f*** off out of his garden'.

Went to the pictures because Rio said I'd really, really like Brokeback Mountain and would identify with the main characters. I thought he said Rightback Mountain and it would be about handsome right-backs with fantastic facial hair. It wasn't. I cried.


Silly Billy Philly and his little Neverton team beat Arse-nal so I've promised mum not to give him a Chinese burn for at least 24 hours. I tried to appeal the suspension but she was quicker than usual up the stairs.

We watched Dancing On Ice. I could do that when I'm 44 and retire, just before I take over as manager of the best club in the world ever and win the Historic Quadruple and become Lord Sir Gary Neville OBE MBE CBeebies.


Diiiiirty diiiiirty Scousers, diiiiirty diiiiirty Scousers. We won, we won, we won, you lost, you lost, you lost. And I did the coolest celebration in front of the diiiiirty, diiiirty Scousers that some people said was like when a boy and a girl do sex, which probably means that girls will think I want to do sex with them, when everyone knows that girls smell. I did do a sex wee though.

Did my celebration for mum and grandma today after Sunday lunch (sprouts, euugghh) and they said I'll look handsome in the papers. Hope the camera captures my moustache, because sometimes in pictures it doesn't look as bushy as in real life.

Too excited to sleep so I'm reading Sir's book again. I know it nearly off by heart now, which is lucky because some of the pages don't open anymore.


I have been hidden in my mum's cupboard all day after Rio texted me to say that the police wanted to talk to me about 'exciting the crowd'. I don't want to go to jail because Rio says a handsome boy like me would be popular in the showers. And I prefer baths.

When mum tempted me out with a bowl of Frosties (she says I'm grrrrrrreat) I heard that Sven is leaving after the World Cup, probably because I phoned Brian Barwick to say there were too many Scousers in the team. They say it's not but I know different, because his secretary said he was 'interested to learn my views'.

I think I am the right man to replace him. If I'm not in jail.


Who's Sam Allardyce? Apparently he manages a club in Lancashire, but everyone knows there's only one club in Lancashire. I'm confused! He can't be allowed to manage England and neither can 'Big Phil' Scolari - a) because he's called Phil and everyone knows that's a silly name and ;) because he probably thinks his moustache is better than mine. Which it's not.

It should be me and David in a dream team. Like that film I saw the other night.


We're in the final of the most important cup competition in the world (that I haven't won yet) after beating some little team called, I think, Blackburn. I was brilliant of course, though Edwin (I always preferred Sweary Tim) tried to make me look silly by not reacting quick enough to my perfect backpass.

That nasty man Robbie Savage tried to make trouble in the tunnel but, as I'm the captain now, I couldn't sort him out properly. I had to lock myself in the changing-room, because a captain can't get into any trouble. And I had to wait until I was sure he'd left the ground, because I'm the captain now. Roy would have done the same.


I've been charged. I'm running away to Malta.

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from 2005, I think.

Thursday, July 28

Rio's getting so done by Sir for sticking two fingers up at the customers today. Sir obviously didn't hear him shouting 'I earn two times more than you, Neviller. Two times'. That's the kind of friendship we have, always joking and laughing - everyone knows that he earns five times more than me. His moustache is really, really rubbish though. You can't buy a moustache, you know.

Sir didn't play me in the most important position in football today, which is of course right-back. I think he's mad at me because I'm going to marry a girl (I asked her in Malta - the bestest place in the world), but I'm only marrying her because mum says I've got to move out and I needed to find someone else to sew my name in my shorts and thread my mittens through my coat. I'm not kissing her though. Euugggh.

We lost today but that's because Silly-Billy Philly played at right-back. Hope he goes soon.

Friday, July 29

Told Phil that I heard Sir talking to Luxemburgo about him joining Real Madrid to become a galactico. He was running around the room saying 'I'm going to Spain, I'm going to Spain' and saying that makes him a better player than me. Ha ha - he only ever plays in the best team in the whole world ever cos he sucks up to Sir. I held him down, knuckled his head and told him that actually, I just remembered, Sir was talking to someone in Luxembourg about wanting Phil to come and be their gardener.

He cried, so I took pictures of me happy-slapping him and showed them to Alan. He's nice, he gave me some of his Curly-Wurly and then we went to see Sir together to tell him that Alan can play in midfield so he can sell Phil to Bury. Actually, not Bury - dad says he's not good enough.

Saturday, July 30

'And crowd favourite, the legendary Gary Neville, flies down the right with his bushy, manly moustache to terrorise the Urawa defence. He's by far the best player in the world right now...'

Yes, I was back in the bestest position and yes, we won. I was so excited when Sir read out the team that I did a little sex wee and had to change my shorts. I don't think Phil minded.

Sunday, July 31

Got bored on the plane (Rio, Wayne and Ronaldo didn't let me sit with them - I think I initimidate the younger players) so told Phil that I heard Sir talking to Roman Abramovich about him replacing Makelele at Chelsea. He ran up and down the aisle shouting 'I'm going to be rich, I'm going to be rich' and saying he would buy a new Volvo with the money. So I tripped him up, sat on him, did some poo air in his face and told him that actually, I just remembered, Sir was talking to Ronan Keating about doing the macarena.

He cried and went to Tim Howard for a cuddle. But he told him to 'f*** off you c***'. Wayne wasn't so polite.

Monday, August 1

It says in the papers that Michael Owen is coming to the best club in the whole wide world, but I don't believe everything I read in the papers because once they said that my girlfriend kissed a boy and she didn't because she swore on my life that she didn't, and they once said that Sir had a red face but I think his face is lovely so that was rubbish as well.

I'll go on strike if that scouser comes to my club and I told Sir that if Michael Owen comes to my club with his bumfluff moustache then I'm going to Barcelona in a multi-million pound deal and he can't stop me. He laughed but I could see he was scared - I don't think that scally will be coming to the Theatre of Dreams. Sir knows what the price would be. And I don't mean ?12m.

Tuesday, August 2

Went to mum's for chicken dippers and chocolate ice cream and to appeal her decision about me moving out. But after four circuits of the kitchen I had to accept that she beat me for pace. I got my own back by telling her that I'd heard Sir on the phone to Carlo Ancelotti, who wanted Phil in Milan because he's a marketing man's dream, and then almost wee-ed as I heard her phone the silly sausage.

I could hear him shouting 'I'm going to be a model, I'm going to be a model' and then I told her that actually, I just remembered, Sir was talking to a tele-marketing man about a dream he'd had about Carlos the Jackal. He cried like a baby and mum had to calm him down with his favourite song and promise to make him soldiers. I protested this decision until she calmed me down with my favourite song and made me soldiers.

Wednesday, August 3

Wayne got excited when we told him we were going to play a feeder club in Belgium. I think he got the wrong idea. But anyway, we won 6-1 against a very, very strong Belgian second division side that proves that we will win the Premiership and the Champions League and the Manchester Senior Cup this season and that Ruud is the best striker in the world and not ugly, smelly Henry with his rubbish moustache who has just been really, really, really lucky.

I told Phil that I heard Sir on the phone to David Moyes who says he wants him as his new utility man at Everton. He said he's not falling for that again and called me a poohead. But then Sir came and told him that he's sorry, but Everton have offered 74p and they couldn't turn that kind of money down. Phil cried. I laughed. That'll teach him to think he can play in the most important position at the best club in the whole wide world ever.

Thursday, August 4

It's funny at training without Phil but at least I get to put the cones out every day and I might even wash the bibs tonight. I decided that I should get a pretend brother to share my wisdom and experience and chose Liam Miller because nobody talks to him. But when I tried to give him a Chinese burn he hit me round the head with his Man United rucksack and said some things in Scotch I couldn't understand.

So I've decided to adopt Kieran. I'll start by showing him how to grow a moustache...

and from... I'm not sure when


Put the cones out for Sir today and he glanced at me. Made me feel special. He never looks at Phil like that. Told Mum and she said I have to share but that's not fair because I got to the cones first. Moustache looks a bit thicker today.


Won today but I didn't play :-( Watched MUTV all night to see whether Sir said he missed me. Am sure they edited it out. Hung out with Rio until he told me to 'go away innit'. Will tell Sir tomorrow. Deffo not a penalty today - gave that girl Boa Morte a nasty stare after the game to let him know that I know. Man in wheelchair laughed at my moustache. Cried myself to sleep.


Took Sir an apple. But Weasley :-) gave him a bottle of red wine so he'll probably play on Tuesday. Creep. Went to Mum's for dinner but she tried to make me eat sprouts and then laughed when I banged my fists on the kitchen lino. She won't laugh again. Read Sir's book in bed. Coloured in moustache with marker. Looks manly.


Rained at training. Marker wasn't permanent.

Tuesday (early)

Playing tonight so was definitely worth washing bibs for Sir. Looked at papers and I was in them again! Will put in scrapbook. So glad I said Porto don't act like men. Am really getting good at this mind games business. Photo on back of The Sun made my moustache look thin but Mum says it's just the ink. She says I look handsome.

Tuesday (late)

Not fair. Not fair. Not fair. It was a goal and we should of won and someone pushed me and someone tried to hurt Ronaldo and the girls dived on the floor and the referee blew the whistle before we could score and they celebrated in front of OUR fans and that made me so angry but I had to go and tell the TV that they deserved it (they didn't and I had my fingers crossed. Ha!). It's just not fair because we're the best team in the whole wide world.

Have given Philip a Chinese burn for that free-kick and told Sir to sell him.


Sir not happy today. He didn't even cheer up when I gave him my drawing. Wonder if he'll put it on his fridge with the others? Saw a small boy laughing at me so held him down until he said that Manchester United were the best team in the whole wide world. Feel better now. Bought some Re-Gane and put on top lip. Can't wait until the morning to see my bushy, manly 'tache.


Phoned David to ask him to ask Elton about hair transplants. He said he was, "too busy preparing for the quarter-finals of the Champions League". Am going to tell Sir and then I'm going to fly to Spain and then hold him down until he says that Manchester United are the best team in the whole wide world. And I'm going to take back the Man United sovereign ring I sent him for Christmas.

Update: Mum says I can't go to Spain.

finally the henry diary from just before he joined barca


I am not scared by much in my life. I respect my enemies, my fears, my difficulties, but I don't fear them because only an idiot fears fear. I can look anybody in the eye and say, "I am Thierry Henry." I have played against and with some of the best defenders in the world - Lilo Thuram, Desailly, Ayala, Nesta, Senderos. I never had fear or dread in my stomach's pit.

But I fear one thing - an English barbeque. We had to go to a barbeque with my wife's friends and it was a joke, a disaster. The weather was terrible; it was pissing on us all the time. But we had to stay outside, enjoying the classique British summer. Come on guys! Do you want that I catch a cold? I am a sportsman working hard on a miracle comeback. Do you think a cold helps me? I lost a big part of the season with injuries, many injuries, now you want that I sit in the storm for three hours listening to your stupide Fatman Slimboy barbeque cassette and drenching myself?

And then the food - sacre bleu, don't get me started! The meat is uncooked or burnt like a crisp! What the hell is that? Then they drown it in the ketchup. Why guys? The pig is already dead, why you must drown it? Rain and ketchup, is that all you've got guys? I don't know how much longer I can put this up, these barbeques, rain, ketchup. Maybe I need a new environment for my spirit, for my soul - maybe I have to go to new space to let my soul breathe. Away from ketchup. Far away.


I went to do the photo shoot for a new Arsenal kit, a new white shirt in which I look so, so beautiful. Some people, stupide people, say that Arsenal cannot wear a white shirt. They are stupide. Arsenal cannot have a white top? What the hell is that? Because Spurs are wearing white for all their history? Pathetique. Do Spurs have trademark on white? You know, I like to wear the white shirt, I love it. I feel like a swan, a graceful swan. My style on the pitch is like a swan, floating, dipping, soaring. But I am a swan with the teeth and killer instinct of the shark. I am a swan-shark I think, unique.


Something so sad, so typical happened at the shops today, inside the car park. I had to do the food shopping (after the difficult season I had last year and my injuries? What is that? Lose in Champions League final, World Cup Final, get injury and finish fourth yet still have to do food shopping?). I found a nice space for my car. I measured the angle perfectly, and was about to do a beautiful reverse parking in the space, taking my time, not touching any kerb or crunching any gear or clipping anybody's mirror-wing, glide into the gap in a swift but not unresponsible speed, leave room enough to open my doors without scratch the other car and allow other people around me to open their door and calmly place their shopping bags inside.

Then some idiot, he just parked in my space while I was preparing myself! He just drives straight in, in two seconds, zoom! Straight into my space without taking time. And he was crooked! His stupide car was jutting out at a horrible angle. Sticking out, man it was so ugly. I think if you are parking your automobile you must do it beautifully. Why park in a supermarket carpark without making something attractive? Why? How can you live like this? How can you exist like this? It's too ugly, so sad. Is that how you live, is it all you've got?


Thursday night is cinema night in my family, the Thierry Henry family. I thought a good way for me to relax myself was to choose the film for my family. But my wife and daughter wanted to decide the film, a stupide cartoon movie about a stupide puppy dog or monkey or something. Come on guys! What the hell is that? I am under stress, my body was nearly destroyed last season. It was very draining to me, it took a lot out of me. Why can't they understand that? Why can't I watch the film I want to watch? After the difficult season I had last year and my injuries?

In the end they understood and agreed that we could go and see SpiderMan 3 again. I love this film, I love it too much! I think it is because Spidey is like me, we are cut with the same cloth. He is one man fighting for justice against ignorants and violent people. I am one man fighting for the name of beautiful football against the monsters, freaks of anti-football. Spidey has problems, stress, doubt, but he never gives in or cries like a woman.

I am the same, I accept all they throw at me, like Spidey, I am not a woman. Me and Spidey are not women. He had the Goblin, and Sandy-Man like enemies, I have teams playing ten men behind the ball, Carles Puyol and Sam Allardyce. I know I am right, Peter Parker knows he is right, he holds and guards the truth, like me, TH14. We don't ask for thanks from the people, we do it because we have to and it is right.

And of course this SpiderMan suit he wears is so cool, trop cool! I love it, red and blue. I want a red and blue football shirt, it would look perfect on my athletic body. Maybe I tell Hill-Wood to give us a red and blue shirt, or I think of a team who has it already and dress myself in it.

Next week I will see SpiderMan 3 for the eighth time, if my family don't get selfish thoughts again. If they want to see this film about the dog puppy or monkey cartoon they will have to do it without me - c'est la vie. They choose - stupide puppy or monkey or their husband and father and Arsenal captain Thierry Henry.


I was flicking the channels on TV this morning, looking for some clips of my best goals, but Sky Sports didn't have any on (What the hell is that guys? I get many, many injuries, take a little time out and you forget me? Did you lose the clips of all my goals?). Anyway, I accidentally switched on the cricket. I have a question. Cricket? What the hell is that? It is so boring, man it makes me want to sleep! How can you call this a sport? Man, I want to laugh at them! They are wearing jumpers! I mean, it takes five days and they still can draw! What a stupide sport! Come on guys, you got to be joking! These Anglo-Saxons are ridiculous sometimes; they make me laugh so hard. I don't know how they can stay here all their lives without going crazy!


Sky Sports and the BBC finally started talking about me again, making up rubbish about my future, like every summer. Come on guys! Haven't you got any other things to talk about? Is that all you have got? And one journalist, stupide, stupide man, said I don't go to Italy this summer because I failed at Juventus in 1999.

What the hell is that? Again, this story? I tell you, I tell you the truth, the real truth. Juve failed, not Thierry Henry. They played me in a stupide position, they didn't understand Thierry Henry. They made me wear the football handcuffs. They wanted to strangle me with suffocation. On the pitch I take risks, I take the ball, I go wide, I cross, I fly, I create, I glide, I soar, I swoop, I pounce. But they put me inside a cage, a horrible cage. They failed, not me, they are the people who built a horrible cage around Thierry Henry. I cannot think they are a real club, a big club. I do not think many big team do this. I do not think Barcelona would build up a cage with Thierry Henry inside.


It was the grande finale of the Spanish Liga, and I wanted to watch it to see who wins. Of course I had to miss the first two minutes because my wife was watching something on a DVD. I asked if I could see the Spanish games and she said she was watching 'Sex In A City' or 'Willy and Grace' or something stupide. I could not believe that I could not watch what I wanted in my house! What the hell is that? Can't I relax at home? I want to release my stress, I have played so many games in the last few years, but my body said stop! And now I need some Thierry-time. In the end she let me see the games. "Come on Nicole, what the hell is that?" I calmly moaned, and she stopped the DVD. But I missed two minutes of the football...come on! You want to ruin my night?

But I was laughing at the end because Barcelona's captain, Carles Puyol, lost the title on the last day! Hey Puyol, you think I forget the Champions League Final in 2006? You played like a cheat, beating, kicking and hitting me. But I didn't go down. I am not a woman. But I lost that night. Now you must taste a defeat, idiot. Magnifique! This is a big, a strong club Barcelona, with a nice mentality and respect for the true spirit of the football. When you have the captain's armband on your bicep you carry the fans, the dreams and you must respect beauty and honour, I think. But maybe someone must put a word in Puyol's ear and make him know some things! Maybe I visit him in Barcelona. I don't know the future. I know many things, but I cannot know the future. It is impossible.

But of course I am sad for Lilo Thuram. Man I am sorry for him, my brother, a warrior like me. He lost too, and he is real man, like me. He has respect and understands the truth, the real spirit of sport, life. Maybe I invite him to come and see SpiderMan 3 with me, if my wife and daughter are stubborn mule again next week. Or I could go to Spain and watch it with him. Yes, this is a good idea, I'll ask my agent to phone and find out about cinema times in Barcelona tomorrow morning after my stupide, soggy English idiote baker-produced croissant with Nicole and my petite daughter. Stupide.

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I wanted a table in our luncheon hall for international captains only but

that was not voted. It is a pity. I had to sit near the Dutch coward-girl

Robben AGAIN today. I, captain of the Deutsche mannschaft with a tiny boy

who cries like the wolfs.

ROFLCOPTER icon_lol.gif

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