This week, Martin O’Neill and Roy Keane departed their positions at the head of the Irish national football side in a fashion most befitting of their tumultuous reign by fielding seven defenders and labouring to a 0-0 draw against Denmark.
At 66 years of age, the Ireland job could well have been O’Neill’s last, especially considering how much his stock has fallen following a disastrous calendar year which saw his side fail to win a single game, competitive or otherwise.
However, for Keane, retirement from the game doesn’t seem to be on the horizon. Following his resignation from the Ireland set-up, the former Manchester United captain can finally spend his days doing what he really loves.
So, with exclusive access to Roy Keane’s personal schedule*, Getting Sacked in the Morning can reveal exactly how the combustible Irishman plans on spending the first day of his newly-acquired free time.
6:30 am – Morning alarm call consisting ‘Only for the Weak’ by Swedish death metal band In Flames played at cacophonous levels. Lie in the dark for several moments envisaging the grisly demise of Alfie Inge Haaland.
6:45 am – Shower in nitric acid for precisely three minutes to scour away any semblance of human empathy.
7:15 am – Light breakfast of nails and broken glass, washed down with a gallon of White Lightning.
7:45 am – Take the dogs for a walk. Punch journalist waiting on the corner for a quote.
8:15 am – Carefully dress in Manchester United 1998/99 replica kit, complete with captain’s armband, and sharpen studs of plain black Diadoras. Place in kit bag and stow in back of Rover 500. Before setting off, check emails on phone to see if Harry Arter has replied to any of the last dozen messages. He has not. Set off for Bournemouth with a bag of Babybells for the journey.
11:30 am – Arrive at Bournemouth training ground. Hammer on the gates while yelling, “You and me, Harry. One-on-one, first to ten goals, no tackles above knee height!” Remonstrate with an exasperated Eddie Howe who insists Harry Arter joined Cardiff on loan back in August.
11:45 am – Return to car. Eat last Babybell and consider driving to Cardiff.
12:00 pm – Ring Jonathan Walters, call him a twat and slam the phone down. Refuse to answer the subsequent 26 return calls.
12:30 pm – Enjoy a hearty meal at the Bournemouth Toby Carvery. Two-foot the waiter who discovers your ‘big plate’.
1:00 pm – Check WhatsApp messages. Receive video of an orphanage burning down from Patrick Vieira. Respond with six laughing face emojis.
1:15 pm – Spend half-an-hour attending to your mental well-being. No fancy mindfulness apps. Take deep breaths while re-watching that tackle on Haaland with a smile playing on your lips.
1:45 pm – Recall with a large degree of fondness that time you stamped on Gareth Southgate.
2:30 pm – Ring Mick McCarthy, call him a twat and slam the phone down. Refuse to answer the subsequent 19 return calls.
3:00 pm – Drive to BT TV studios for coverage of Manchester United’s game against Young Boys. Play the entirety of Swedish death metal band Amon Amarth’s back catalogue at deafening volume.
6:00 pm – Arrive in BT TV studios for Manchester United’s upcoming Champions League game against Young Boys. Cordially greet Paul Scholes. Ignore Frank Lampard. Display open hostility towards Steven Gerrard.
8:30 pm – At half-time, disagree with everything Frank Lampard says. Look around in confusion and ask “Can anyone hear that buzzing noise?” any time Steven Gerrard tries to make a point. Much to Gary Lineker’s chagrin, describe in great detail why Carlos Queiroz is a wanker.
9:30 pm – Disappear from the studio on live television following Manchester United’s 1-0 away defeat to Young Boys to bang on the changing room door. Upon being granted entry, smash Paul Pogba’s iPhone, punch Jesse Lingard and threaten to kidnap Alexis Sanchez’s dogs. Immediately escorted off the premises.
9:40 pm – Begin the long drive home. Realise there are no Babybells left. Headbutt windscreen in sheer rage.
12:00 am – Arrive home. Receive phone call from John Madejski and accept the position of Reading manager. Ring John O’Shea’s home phone six times. Chuckle down the line when he finally picks up.
12:10 am – Pint of Bisto (courtesy of Sam Allardyce). Bed.
*For the purposes of this article, Roy Keane’s personal schedule is entirely fictional. We have no doubt Roy is a lovely chap behind closed doors, and he definitely makes our Premier League Greatest XI (and not just because we are too frightened not to include him).
Roy, if you’re reading: you are United’s best ever captain. Please don’t kill us.
