Alessandro Zarelli

Although I've no interest in football and not much interest in television of late. Yesterday afternoon I flopped on my bed feeling particularly lethargic and watched a programme on Sky called Superfakes: Football Fakes. It was fascinating.

Apparently a fellow from northern Italy - somewhere near Turin - going by the name of Alessandro Zarelli (sometimes Sarelli) had managed to blag his way into various football clubs in Wales and Ireland. He targeted struggling clubs appealing to their hopes that an injection of Italian panache would rescued them from continued league table failure. He faxed fake letters of recommendation to the clubs signed by some Italian FA official informing them that Alessandro had been selected to join them for a season, that he was an up-and-coming superstar, and that he'd played for various respectable clubs like Sheffield Wednesday. Eyebrows were raised, but not enough to make follow-up inquiries it seems.

Other than the fact that this guy was Italian and willfully came to these bleak shores - I always find that strange! - what fascinated me was that he'd had the balls to do this (to use an appropriate expression), to do it in a foreign country no less, and to do it so spectacularly coolly. He didn't even speak good English and wasn't even a good player - he got ousted from each club he managed to join within a few weeks due to his terrible performances on the pitch. But he wasn't a bit camera shy. He posed for newspaper photographs (as above), accepted interviews - even television interviews. He was as cool as a cucumber, full of smiles, said all the right things and even played up to the role of Italian heart throb by flirting with interviewees.

The real person behind the Zarelli persona turned out to be something of a mystery. Predictably the Italian clubs he claimed he'd played for had never heard of him, and the Italian FA official who supposedly recommended him didn't even exist. But the documentary team did some checking, traced faxes to a shop around the corner from his parents' home in Italy and telephone numbers to his parents' apartment. Eventually he was discovered in London and tricked into meeting a supposed football scout in a hotel. He sat there lying utterly convincingly for 20 minutes before a camera crew emerged through the door informing him what was going on. How did he react? Without even a flicker of discomfort he sat there, smiled and admitted everything before coolly strolling off with, 'I think I'll go now'. He was then shown walking calmly down the road smiling while the cameras trailed him.

Having sat through a couple of job interviews lately lying through my teeth, I could only watch in jaw-dropping admiration at this young Italian's performance. Not a bit of sweat on his brow, as cool calm and collected as a Zen master and utterly convincing in his elaborate stories. The only hint of discomfort was in a few of his self-touching gestures - I hear this is an indication that a person needs physical reassurance. But other than that, brilliant, especially with a camera crew shoved unceremoniously in his face.

Before departing from the hotel, the interviewer handed Zarelli a card with a number to call if he wanted to get in contact. At the end of the documentary he's heard on voice mail: 'Thank you for the story, you have made me famous... and you are big son of bitch!'

As another blogger put it, 'Alessandro Zarelli... Legend.'