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Manchester City: A fate worse than death

Thankfully, another transfer window slams shut. The past 33 days have seen Manchester City become one of the most reviled institutions in Britain, loathed even more than City bankers or local council gritting departments. In a perverse way I relished the contempt of the nation's media, as it made a refreshing change from the coverage we have become accustomed to (at best somewhat pitiful and patronising, at worst complete indifference). There is only one thing worse than being talked about, and that's not being talked about.

Manchester City: The brazen hussy

Psychologist Dr Cliff Arnall, a former academic at Cardiff University, predicted that Monday 19th January would be the most depressing day of the year, and my god he wasn't wrong. Not only did Manchester City's highly publicised bid for Brazilian playmaker Kaka fall through after the club failed to reach an agreement with A.C. Milan, but Robinho went AWOL and we also signed Craig Bellamy. In Manchester it never rains, it bloody pours.

Manchester City: The wrath of the nation

The deepening global recession, the conflict in Gaza, the continued participation of Tina bloody Malone in Celebrity Big Brother... it's all Manchester City's fault apparently. If you believe the hyperbole being reported by the media in the last 24 hours, that is. Ever since details of City's world record bid for Brazilian playmaker Ricardo Izecson dos Santos Leite (or Kaka to you and me) transpired, the nation have turned their collective wrath on the club.

"But... but you've ruined football" they sob, conveniently ignoring twenty years of crass commercialisation of the game. This deal is the effect, rather than the cause, of the problem. Football ceased to be the people's game at the beginning of the nineties, when the Taylor Report and Sky's millions effectively shaped the future of the sport in England.

Manchester City: transfer gossip junkies

Following on from ADUG's dramatic takeover of the club last summer, we'd spent four long, tortuous months waiting for the re-opening of the transfer window, whilst City slumped ever more pitifully towards the bottom of the heap once more. Sure, there had been highlights; the inspired form of Stephen Ireland, Robinho's mercurial skills, and the cavalier, swashbuckling attacking that saw us score more goals than any other team in the Premier League, Chelsea aside. However, some calamitous defending (even by City's own woefully low standards) and rumours of dissent in the dressing room destabilised the club and suddenly, absurdly, a relegation dogfight became a very real possibility. United fans guffawed loudly in Surrey and Singapore that "City's going down with a billion in a bank" (I hate to be pedantic, but it's actually £15bn). Ho ho.

Our misery was compounded by an abject 3-0 capitulation at the hands of Nottingham Forest in the FA Cup and disgruntled fans turned their ire on manager Mark Hughes. Our only salvation lay in the opening of the transfer window, and the chance to finally flex our financial muscle (for all the media hype about our new found wealth, we'd only actually had around 12 hours in which to utilise it due to the belated takeover in August).

Manchester City: A Symphony of Tourette

I like to think that I’m normally quite a calm, placid individual but watching Manchester City invokes some hitherto unseen violent, irrational side to my character. It brings out the sociopath in me, although you could argue that City’s performances of late are enough to make even a shy, bald Buddhist reflect and plan a mass murder.

Manchester City: The Glamour of the Uefa Cup

When I was young, my father used to regale me with tales of magical European nights at Maine Road, against illustrious opposition such as A.C. Milan and, um, Standard Liege. My generation were deeply envious; growing up in the dark days of the eighties and nineties, the closest we got to a European game was an F.A. Cup tie against Cardiff (we lost, of course).

So it was with great excitement that we qualified for this season's UEFA Cup, albeit through the ignominy of the Fair Play league. We would be able to pass on our memories of City in Europe to our children, as our forefathers had before us. Now either my father misled me, or European football has lost its glamour. Last night's game against Schteve Mclaren'sh FC Twente had the look and feel of a pre-season friendly.

Yin and Yang

Manchester City fans are a contradictory lot. After every victory supporters start talking in earnest about Champions League football, and the prospect of joining the game's elite, yet every defeat is greeted with blind panic and ludicrous overreaction. It's as though we face some violent inner turmoil, where the dichotomy between blind, naive optimism and decades of crushing disappointment battle for control of our conscious. It's a wonder that Manchester city centre isn't full of tormented, anguished souls rushing around with their heads imploding in a macabre scene reminiscent of Cronenberg's Scanners. "We're rubbish... we're brilliant... we're rubbish.... aaarrrggghh...".

I have a dream

The more things change, the more they stay the same. An impressive 6-0 dismantling of an established Portsmouth side, which suggested great things lay in store for Manchester City, was quickly followed by an embarrassing League Cup exit at the hands of lowly Brighton. Typical bloody City, you might say. It wasn't entirely unexpected, mind. Brighton are merely the latest on a long list of humiliations stretching back to Halifax in 1980. Shrewsbury, Oldham, Doncaster, Chesterfield... in fact you could probably name any footballing minnow and the chances are they'll have turned City over at some point.

Sheikh Your Money

It’s getting increasingly difficult keeping up with events at Manchester City these days. Many Blues woke up this morning nursing sore heads after an impressive 3-0 victory had lifted the level of expectations at Eastlands, only to discover that the club were in the process of being taken over by an incredibly wealthy Arab consortium. To put it in perspective, their collective wealth makes Roman Abramovich look like Franny Lee. These are truly exciting times at City.

The prodigal son returns

The season is barely two weeks old, yet already City are being subjected to an inordinate amount of media coverage. If you were to believe everything you read in the press then City would be facing financial meltdown, our entire first team squad would be available for transfer, and our new manager would be on the verge of walking away from the club after less than three months in charge. And you'd be an idiot. Because they're just making this shit up as they go along. They know no more than me or you. Depressingly, the broadsheets are as guilty as the tabloids.