Jose Mourinho finally signed for Man Utd yesterday. He appeared on MUTV looking slimline and contained, a controlled Mourinho in sober suit and tie with a placid smile on his lips. He is thinking, this time I won’t make the same mistakes as last time at Chelsea, when I bollocked the popular female team doctor in front of millions of viewers and so alienated my players and made the rest of the season impossible, or the time before at Real Madrid, when I poked a member of the Barcelona staff in the eye in front of millions of viewers. This time I am not the special one, I am not the happy one, I am the placid one. Think placid one. I am the placid one. And then he opened his mouth. I feel great. Well, I think I am in the right moment in my career because Man United is one of these clubs where you need really to be prepared for it because it is what I used to call a giant club. And giant clubs must be for the best managers and I think I am ready for it... Already the forshadowing of deep tragedy lurks within his first statement, the high vanity of a man who cannot remain in neutral , not for a moment, who must at every instant be promoting himself, hoisting himself upwards on his waxen wings. It is already Shakespearean. A case of And now we unveil our custodian of the kingdom, chosen to bring stability and harmony back to a troubled land. From behind the velvet curtains step forward Richard of  Gloucester, the Crookback.

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