THERE are two contradictory truths about Jose Mourinho.
Anybody with the remotest interest in drama is fascinated by the bloke and wants him back in football.
Yet pretty much nobody wants him as manager of their own club.
The old rogue is out of work after being sacked by Roma – where much of the fanbase still adored him for winning the club’s first European trophy.
That was the Europa Conference League, a competition Mourinho would have sniffed at during his glory days.
Last season, he almost added the Europa League, but Roma were defeated by Sevilla on penalties in a stinker of a final and Mourinho ended up being filmed kicking off at ref Anthony Taylor in the car park.
Like a foul-mouthed C-3PO, Mourinho swore at the Englishman in two different languages, calling him a ‘f***ing disgrace’ and received a four-match UEFA ban, the sort of punishment he used to circumvent by hiding inside laundry baskets.
Did Mourinho learn from this public shaming? What do you think?
He was red-carded twice in three days before last week’s sacking, taking his total of dismissals at Roma to six in two-and-a-half years.
Where next then for this great brooding, feuding anti-hero of football management?
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The man who started off as a translator to Sir Bobby Robson at Barcelona would love a crack at the Catalan giants.
With boss Xavi under pressure last week, Mourinho landed in Barcelona. The purpose of his trip was unclear, but we hope it was a trademark bout of mischief.
Mourinho’s acolytes have been linking him to Sir Bobby’s spiritual home of Newcastle since Eddie Howe’s reign began to go pear-shaped.
Such a move would be intriguing for followers of the Premier League soap opera – except for the Toon Army.
Imagine the handshake-gate feuds with rival bosses, the verbal grenades at referees, the cabaret of those press conferences we lapped up at Stamford Bridge, Old Trafford and Tottenham.
But Newcastle’s supporters, like the followers of any club linked with Mourinho, would be more interested in the negative football and the outdated, combative man-management style.
And the club’s Saudi owners have been adamant in rebutting such talk.
Mourinho’s last three jobs in England – the second spell at Chelsea, then Manchester United and Spurs – were a catalogue of bust-ups with senior players, from Eden Hazard to Paul Pogba to Dele Alli on Tottenham’s ill-advised Amazon documentary.
The Portuguese has apparently turned down a £100million two-year contract to manage Saudi Arabia’s national team, as well as offers from three Saudi Pro-League clubs.
The 60-year-old silver fox still believes he can find work at an elite European club instead.
But if he did semi-retire to Saudi, what an intriguing social experiment that would be.
Would the former Special One have the chutzpah to monster referees under a regime where disrespect for authority usually ends up with a flogging or far worse?
Would he really bother ranting and cavorting down the touchline while managing Al Shabab in front of crowds of less than a thousand?
When John McEnroe started playing exhibition matches, he would still give his audience what they came for, by hamming it up with a ‘You cannot be serious!’ at the umpire. Would Jose do likewise?
More likely, more fitting and equally intriguing is the prospect of a move to fallen Italian champions Napoli – currently ninth in Serie A, one place below Roma.
There, Mourinho could work under president Aurelio De Laurentiis, one of the few men in football more outspoken and egotistical than the Portuguese himself.
Mourinho would doubtless walk into Naples and declare himself bigger than Diego Maradona – the late, great Argentinian who won the Scudetto with Napoli and is deified in the southern Italian city.
And then Mourinho would win a trophy. And then he’d suffer a complete meltdown in his third season. Because this is what he does.
But there is always a flipside.
Speak to Mourinho in depth about football – as I did while ghostwriting his column for this newspaper during the last Euros – and you will encounter one of the most thorough, knowledgeable and intelligent people in the sport.
A man capable of great warmth, humour and decency too.
And a manager who has won 25 major trophies.
Nobody in the Premier League seems to want him right now.
But Claudio Ranieri went decades without winning anything, only to turn up at Leicester in his mid-60s and win the title.
Mourinho’s CV is in a different league to the old tinkerman’s.
So why not Jose? That is a question which will nag away at owners of English clubs in need of a fix.
And sooner or later, someone will be tempted.
HARRY KANE has scored 26 goals in 22 appearances for Bayern Munich and yet Germany’s perma-champions are seven points adrift of Bundesliga leaders Bayer Leverkusen.
Already out of the German Cup and having lost the Super Cup on Kane’s debut, there is a distinct possibility the England captain could end the season with 50 goals and no trophy.
Kane’s lack of silverware is now beyond a laughing matter. It is becoming a sick joke.
So what price his former club Tottenham rubbing it in by ending their 16-year trophy drought and winning the FA Cup?
Well, they host Manchester City in the fourth round on Friday, which sounds like ‘game over’.
Until you hear Pep Guardiola’s side have never even scored in five visits to the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, losing all five.
THE eccentric nature of Premier League refereeing in the VAR era is increasingly difficult to keep up with.
While players are red-carded for innocuous challenges that look worse in slo-mo, nobody predicted a sudden end to the age-old over-protection of goalkeepers.
But witness Luton’s late equaliser at Burnley last week, Arsenal’s second goal against Crystal Palace on Saturday and Sheffield United’s penalty equaliser against West Ham on Sunday and realise that what used to be deemed a foul on the keeper is suddenly fair game.
I DIDN’T understand the bit where the Saudi Arabian government was allowed to buy Newcastle United despite their human-rights atrocities.
But I’m also struggling to get the bit where the richest club in the world might have to sell possibly its best player, Kieran Trippier, to Bayern Munich to raise funds for a midfielder and comply with FFP.
And I think it’s ok to be confused about both things simultaneously.
AT the risk of sounding like Alan Partridge, I’m pitching a new reality TV show: The Cultural Excursions of Jordan Henderson.
In episode one, our hero travels to Chop-Chop Square in the ultra-repressive regime of Saudi Arabia, only to swap it all for the red lights and the smoke-filled cafes of anything-goes Amsterdam.
Next week, Hendo fills his back-pack and heads to Kabul in an attempt to enlighten the Taliban, then changes his mind and opts for Las Vegas.
After that he’s off to Pyongyang, North Korea to check out the nuclear programme of madcap dictator Kim Jong Un but, after a change of heart, ends up at the Mardi Gras in Rio de Janeiro instead.
I don’t know about you but I think it’s a winner.
NOTTINGHAM FOREST are threatened with a points deduction for breaching Premier League profitability and sustainability rules.
And they should also be punished for the horrific blue and salmon-pink third kit they wore at Brentford.
I tried to follow Saturday’s match on TV but kept suffering from dizziness and nausea.
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