We've heard the tales in Fergie's memoir before. Who would have thought they were actually true?
The most interesting thing about Fergie's memoir is not that it is breaking all records, selling the most in its first week – some 115,000 copies – of any other non-fiction book in the history of non-fiction books, at least according to the book trade, and it is clearly going to clean up as the Christmas top book. Or even that it must be the sixth or 16th or even 60th book by or about Fergie in his long-legged life. No, the really interesting thing is that there are in fact no amazing revelations in it.
What we have, what all footer fans have now been presented with, in his own sharp, snidy, self-justifying words, is confirmation of what we have known for years, or thought we knew, stuff we had heard but only half-believed could possibly be true.
His row with Beckham, from being convinced that Posh Spice was a bad influence on him, turning him into well, David Beckham, to the incident in the dressing room when he accidentally kicked a boot at him, ha ha. Turns out all that was not just back-page gossip, which we all chortled over and Fergie dismissed at the time as being tittle tattle, unworthy of us, but it is dead true. For Fergie himself has now told us, in his own words. The Master has spoken.
And that stuff about falling out with Roy Keane, which we lapped up, and all the other players who crossed him and who found themselves booted out before they wanted to go – it's all kosher, cos Fergie has now put his seal on it. Till now, we knew it, but we didn't really know it. Now we do. From the horse's mouth. It's the most brilliant publishing trick, to tell us what we know – and sell loads of books.
From now on I am going to believe every tit and tattle on every back page of every sports section. As if I didn't anyway. But now, when I say to myself "I read it in the papers so it's true" – it will be. Lord Leveson, please note …
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