Adam's Grapple : The secret diary of Sven, aged 57; A week in the life of a Swedish lothario.

Byline: ADAM OLDFIELD

AFTER the demoralising 4-1 defeat to Denmark and more revelations about his private life, it's fair to say England boss Sven Goran Eriksson hasn't had the best of weeks.

In fact, Sven himself described it as one of his worst in football. So to give you an insight into the hardships he faced following the Danish pasting, we bring you extracts from the Swedish lothario's (make-believe) diary - beginning with the mourning after the plight before THURSDAY8am (CET): Woken up by my

Alam, she always makes a lot of noise in the mornings. 8.10am: Last night's 4-1 defeat to Denmark has just sunk in. Thank God I'm Swedish. 8.45am: Boarded plane with rest of England squad. Didn't feel like talking so looked for quiet spot. Naturally there was loads of room at the back. 9.30am (BST): Greeted at Heathrow by group of disgruntled people with placards telling me to reinstate caterers - he must play for one of those Championship sides. 11am: Held press conference at FA headquarters, was expecting a grilling. 11.08am: Garth Crooks asks a question. 12.03pm: Garth finished asking his question.

12.05pm: Try to deflect blame by telling assembled media I heard David James playing on his Nintendo the night before the game. 3pm: All the FA staff and their PAs meet in boardroom for debriefing - Brian Barwick gives me dressing down after I forget to put car keys in glass bowl. 6pm: Get home, but things go from bad to worse when I find out Nancy has recorded over the match highlights with Desperate Housewives. 10pm: Head to bed, need to catch up on some sleep. 3.12am: Some prank caller woke me up. Told the fake Frenchman I had no idea if Michael Owen had changed his mobile number. FRIDAY 8am: Found a load of hate mail on doormat. Thought Ulrika would have moved on by now. 10am: Went to Ikea to try and find ornament for bedside cabinet. 10.10am: After complaining about limited choice, staff told me Swedes don't manufacture top drawer displays. 10.15: Went next door to Waitrose. Bumped into Peter Kenyon in the wine aisle. Recommended he buy something French and full-bodied. 1pm: Heard on the radio Chelsea have signed Michael Essien. 3pm: Dentist appointment. Hate seeing my dentist, he gives out caps like nobody's business. 5pm: Michael Owen called to ask if anything would affect his chances of getting into next year's World Cup squad. Told him he needs to be playing top class football week in, week out. 7pm: Owen snubs offer from Newcastle. SATURDAY 9am: Read in one of the papers that Terry Venables reckons I'm a pushover and allow others to influence my outlook. 9.07am: Check horoscopes. 10am: Nancy was bored, but told her I was too busy to do anything. 10.01am: She called me a sad, old fart and said I should be more spontaneous at 57. 10.03am: Went round to number 57 and asked woman if she fancied a quickie. 11am: Promised nagging Nancy I'd take her out. 11.05am: Couldn't find my rifle. 3pm: Took my seat at White Hart Lane. The lad I took off at half-time in Denmark was on target for Martin Jol's Spurs side again. It's amazing how these foreign managers can get the best out of English players. 7pm: Heard rumours the FA are planning to sack me after 2006 World Cup. Spent rest of evening calculating my compensation

SUNDAY

9am: Popped to the newsagents for the Sunday papers. Tabloids had found out about my secret meetings with Faria. 10am: Phoned Nancy to explain, but Posh said he was busy shaving his chest.

10.10am: Felt so ashamed. Needed to go somewhere just so I could be on my own. 1.30pm: Arrived at the Reebok Stadium in time for kickoff. 7pm: Got home to find camera crew on my front porch. 7.02pm: Set the dogs on them. 7.05pm: Was told to expect a writ from the makers of the Daz doorstep challenge. 7.06pm: Tried to think of an excuse. 10pm: Admitted I had no defence