His name is Zola?

What’s happening on Planet Irons? We’ve signed Uruguayan left back and free agent Walter Lopez, thus circumnavigating the transfer deadline. He’ll also be the first Wally to play for West Ham since the days of Steve ‘Wally’ Walford.

Lopez says that back in South America he “watched the Premier League all the time” and was “very happy (to) get to play for West Ham”. So we can assume, that like Segei Rebrov, he's a lifelong Hammers fan having grown up watching the great Trevor Morley as a kid. In fact Matt says that back home “whenever WHU were playing he’d always set the Montevideo”.

Fraser’s bagged some Fulham away tickets for the hefty sum of 48 quid apiece. He suggests “We can each recoup this by betting two pound each on Paolo Di Canio at 25 to 1 with Paddy Power to be next West Ham manager. Barrack Obama is 5,000 to 1 if you really fancy a flutter.” Personally I think Sarah Palin might be in with a chance — a rifle on the training ground might be just the motivation the lads require.

And as for our managerial vacancy? It seems like it’s going to be Gianfranco Zola, one of the few players to ever look up to Dennis Wise. At least the quality of candidates has been high, with Bilic, Donadoni, Houllier, Collins and Laudrup all in contention.

The only way having Gianluca Nani as a director of football is ever going to work is if the manager trusts him to sign players. So it makes sense to hire a fellow Italian who might have a footballing rapport with him.

Apparently Paolo di Canio might be involved too, and he’s been in the Sun still saying that his West Ham shirt is “like a second skin”. My West Ham shirt is like a second skin too, albeit one suffering from psoriasis.

If it is Emile Zola as boss, then along with Gustave Flaubert providing a sentimental education on the right wing, we are well on the way to assembling the greatest collection of French writers in Premiership history. All we need is Maupassant in midfield to complete the set.

And if it all goes wrong we can always recall our own great English writer from ’86, Alan Dickens.