PREMIER LEAGUE:The former Thai prime minister's ruthless treatment of hapless Sven should come as no surprise.
SORRY to come across all Boris Johnson - God knows the man has had enough publicity this week - but maybe it was being in Liverpool that sparked Manchester City supporters' outburst of hand-wringing in support of Sven Goran Eriksson, their dead manager walking, yesterday. After all, where better to stage a show of ludicrously overblown mourning than in the city defined by its "sense of shared tribal grievance", ironically one of Johnson's few public comments which he should not have been made to retract.
City's faithful appear to be labouring under the illusion that Eriksson is being wrenched, heaving and sobbing, from the club of his dreams. This, it is worth remembering, is a man who made such an emotional investment in Manchester City that he declined the chance to settle permanently in the north-west, instead preferring the intimate charms of the Radisson Edwardian hotel, a decision which earned him the nickname "Alan Partridge" among the sharper-witted members of City's squad.
There were two important factors behind the Swede's arrival at Eastlands: the promise of a fat salary - £2 million (€2.6)-a-year, for the record - and vast transfer budget from Thaksin Shinawatra and the fact he had not received any other offers which could satisfy either his professional ambition or, perhaps more pertinently, his gargantuan personal demands. After all, five-star hotel suites don't come cheap.
But Eriksson is a clever man, well-versed in the nuances of the media game. Shinawatra's clumsy handling of his impending exit, as befits somebody unused to dealing with a hostile, inquisitive press, has allowed Eriksson to become the Martyr of Manchester, an undeserving victim of a hatchet-man owner who is perhaps the only club owner to make Tom Hicks appear reasonable and understanding.
In the midst of all the wailing and gnashing of teeth, it seems to have slipped our minds that this is the same Sven who showed all the fidelity of a Black Widow spider in enjoying a cosy chat with Roman Abramovich during his mind-numbing tenure as England manager. Back then, in 2003, he was rewarded for his brazen show of disloyalty with an eye-watering pay rise: just under five years later, at the hands of a rather more ruthless employer, he has got his comeuppance. As he enjoys his £1 million (€1.3 million) pay-off, he might reflect on the old adage if you dance with the devil, there's a good chance your horn-rimmed glasses will melt. There is, however, another point here. It might be patently obvious Eriksson does not deserve any sympathy for his treatment at the hands of the good doctor, but neither does he deserve the sack.
The Swede's steady hand and unrivalled network of contacts have been manna from heaven for those who have tired of Eastlands' reputation as the "Temple of Doom", as Alex Ferguson calls it.
And while City's end-of-season slump has been pretty spectacular, hope remained that a few astute signings could give the club's revival a more permanent feel. Now, faced with another summer of upheaval and unrest, City - always a snakes and ladders kind of club - have found themselves slithering down yet another python.
But did we really expect Shinawatra to be content with a season of steady consolidation? We know the former Thai dictator - sorry, prime minister - is neither a patient or reasonable man. He showed scant consideration to the vast majority of his own people during his period of office - "a human rights abuser of the worst kind," was the damning verdict of Human Rights Watch — so he was hardly likely to give Sven the benefit of the doubt when things turned sticky.
In the 21st century Premier League, clubs wanting to cash in on the new wave of foreign money men must apparently choose between two evils: ruthless, dead-eyed sorts - Shinawatra, Milan Mandaric, Roman Abramovich - and blundering types such as Tom Hicks and George Gillett who are so wrapped up in their petty jealousies and schoolyard squabbles they fail to notice the incalculable damage they are causing to the clubs they purport to love.
Only Randy Lerner at Aston Villa appears to have struck the right balance between polished PR skills and good governance.
It is no use pretending that in the good ol' days, top-flight chairmen were angels of mercy, descended from the heavens to spread goodwill on earth. Shinawatra might be a heartless retired despot but most City fans would still rather have him than the toupeed tyrant Peter Swales.
But at least the older generation were knowable and accountable. Once it has become de rigeur for clubs to be run as private fiefdoms by men too used to getting their own way, the game really is up.
