Hi readers,

The P-Bell has not been feeling 100 percent this week. After getting back from the pre-season tour to Ireland, I found I had picked up a bit of a virus or something. You know the sort of thing: sore throat, lack of energy, fuzzy head in the morning.

The Gaffer sent me to our club doctor, who told me to go home early from training, just as a precaution. The Doc said it didn't sound like Swine Flu, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He gave me some pills and told me to put my feet up for a day or two.

Happy days! Some quality time in front of the plasma TV, playing video games and watching gangster films.

I have no girl on the go at the moment either, since the last one got in a strop because I didn't invite her on holiday with me over the summer. Actually, I think she said she was more upset that I didn't even tell her I was going on holiday myself. I just tiptoed out of the door one morning and texted her on the way to the airport.

Anyway, whatever. I was absolutely free of distractions, and was having a great time at home on sick-leave. Curtains closed, takeaways ordered, surround-sound on full-whack as I settled in for a mammoth DVD and Xbox session.

This is the sort of life I imagined when I signed my £25k-a-week contract, you know?

After 72 hours of the Godfather, Sopranos and FIFA 09, I finally peeled myself off the leather sofa and kicked my way through the chicken madras cartons and pizza boxes. I thought I still felt a little bit under the weather, so had better phone the Gaffer to tell him it might be for the best if I stay at home another day or two.

"No problem, Pharrell," he says. "You take your time, son. There's no rush."

A bit odd, I thought. He wasn't at all pissed off. I had imagined he might at least put up a bit of an argument.

Thinking nothing more of it, I decide to check out what has been going on in the football world in my absence. I log on to ESPN Soccernet, obviously - and what's the first thing I read? The Gaffer has only gone and signed another defensive midfielder!

I put my feet up for three days and this is what happens. I couldn't believe it.

Feeling more than a little bit concerned, I get back on the phone.

"Oh don't worry Pharrell," the Gaffer tells me. "He's not a replacement, as such. I've no intention whatsoever of selling you. We've certainly had no offers, I know that. I just thought we needed a bit more competition for places in midfield, keep you boys on your toes."

Feeling in no way reassured, I told the Gaffer I was feeling a bit better and would probably be able to make it in to training that afternoon.

Turns out the new guy is a bit of a monster. Some huge chap signed from the French or Belgian or Swiss league or somewhere. Six-foot four, and full of muscles. I found a photo of him with his shirt off - he looked like a walking biology lesson.

Thankfully, after three days on the sofa eating takeaway pizzas and chicken madras, I was also carrying a bit of extra timber. I felt confident the P-Bell would be able to hold his own with him in a 50-50.

I got quickly back into training, wanting to remind the Gaffer who his go-to guy should be at the start of the season. I'm not going to pretend it was pretty; it's amazing how quickly a nasty virus like mine can make you can lose your pre-season fitness.

Meanwhile, the new guy is putting himself about the training pitch like his pants are on fire. It was actually pretty awesome to watch. He's a decent player, I'll give him that.

And it turns out he's a good lad too - although I'm not sure he's quite all there, you know?

His first press conference was like nothing I've ever seen. He turns up wearing this bright, multi-coloured shirt that looks like it came straight from Nelson Mandela's wardrobe, huge smile on his face, arms waving everywhere.

And don't even get me started on his English. It sounded like he had learnt it from the in-flight announcements on British Airways flights.

"Welcome. It is nice to have you here. Please, if you have any questions, do not hesitate to speak to me or one of the members of staff here. My date of arrival here in England was yesterday, when the ground temperature was at around 17 degrees Celsius."

Like I said, great player but not all there.