I haven’t blogged for what seems like ages. That is because it has been ages and I have been very, very lazy. Like many times in the past, it has taken a drastic event to relieve me of my blogging constipation and get me writing again.

The man to thank for me blogging again is a Mr Neil Warnock, or as he has been known to me as since Saturday, “Colin”. If you don’t get his nickname, think about it or just do a Google search.

Neil Warnock became Colin on Saturday after Leeds United lost 3-0 at Ipswich. It wasn’t the poor result, coupled with a load of other recent losses, which saw me turn. No, it was his treatment of young Tom Lees, who was sent off. Yes, it was a silly challenge and yes it was probably a red card, but Colin completely lambasted him, unleashing a cruel verbal assault in the media. What a c**t.

A 2-1 home defeat to Derby on Monday – unsurprising, we always lose to Derby – sent Colin packing. Back down to Cornwall, where he can retire, drive his tractor, drink cider and plot his revenge on his enemies – Graham Poll, Rafa Benitez, Eminem, Alex Ferguson, Chris Tarrant, Mark Hughes, The Pussy Cat Dolls, Carlos Tevez, Peter Kay, El Hadji Ousseynou Diouf, Benni McCarthy’s dietician and Tony Pulis’ hairdresser.

There has been talk during most of the season of a fight for promotion. That has gone now. Luckily though, Colin has kept our season alive. Due to his wonderful tactics of HOOOOOOOOF (a brand he copyrighted and was shamelessly stolen by Kevin Blackwell), Leeds are now in a relegation battle. Should we win, we can all run on the pitch and celebrate our survival in the second tier of English football for a tenth season. If we lose, we can all run on the pitch and celebrate trips to Stevenage, Crawley Town and Yeovil…. again… if Yeovil don’t go up themselves. For the record, if Yeovil Town FC ever end up playing in a higher division than Leeds, I would have to kill myself.

So now the search for a new manager. Gus Poyet at Brighton would be my number one choice. The brains of the operation behind Leeds’ excellent start to the 2007/08 campaign. When Gus fucked off to Tottenham and left Dennis Wise behind, things went badly wrong and Wise was exposed as a poor manager with wobbly eyes. As much as I love Gus and would happily have his babies, even it meant Danny Devito trying to impregnate me like in the film Junior, I don’t think he’ll leave Brighton.

We’ll probably end up with Baldy McDermott. He’s OK, but he looks a bit like somebody I know and therefore, I will never be able to take him seriously. Plus he’s well-spoken and I can never take a well-spoken footballer seriously. Here’s the proof. And here. What am I on about? I hate both of those managers.

No, I want a manger who can install passion in the club. I want him to run into the dressing room pre-match, do his team talk, before playing Football In A Yorkshire Rose on full blast from his stereo. I want him to send Michael Brown – the shittest footballer ever to play for Leeds since World Cup and Champions League winner, Roque Junior – all the way down to Cornwall, where he can help Colin out on the farm. I want to win football matches by playing football, making Elland Road a fortress. I want Leeds back in the Premier League. Back on Match of the Day, being scrutinised by Mark Larenson, Alan Hansen and Alan Sheare…. hang on, maybe it’s better in League One – come back, Neil!