The press conference (or "presser" as they are known in Big London media circles) will begin shortly. Remind yourself of Roy Keane's managerial ups and downs here and, if you're a Tractor Boy, enjoy your moment of glory as the media spotlight falls on Suffolk with our special Ipswich Town page.

Good afternoon everybody. It wouldn't do for me to be late when such a notorious stickler for punctuality is being unveiled.

3.49pm: It's probably fair to say we wouldn't be doing a minute-by-minute report of this press conference if it was one of Alans Pardew or Curbishley who was being appointed. Keane is something of a marmite manager - people spread him on their toast and eat him, or leave him on the shelf in a brown jar with a yellow lid and a "Best Before June 1984" label, gathering dust and a thin film of grime things other things like, say, sandwich toasters that tend to get left on kitchen shelves tend to get coated in - but he's nothing if not good box office and the Football League will almost certainly be a more entertaining soap opera with him in it.

Scene-setting: A predominantly blue cardboard backdrop covered in adverts and club logos, a table with three or four empty chairs behind it, several microphones, a couple of overweight hacks - some of them mustachioed and with egg-stains on their ties - wandering in and out of shot. You know yourself.

3.58pm: It was rash of me to describe the furniture Keane will be sitting behind as a mere table. It's more of a breakfast-bar type arrangement - white with a light wooden brown trim finish.

4pm: Ipswich Town chief executive Simon Clegg, Roy Keane and club PR man Terry Baxter take their places behind the breakfast bar.

Simon Clegg speaks: "Very pleased ... rich heritage ... blah, blah, blah ... Roy Keane."

Roy Keane speaks: "It's good to be back," he says, adding that he hasn't missed football in the five months that he's been away. He says that he's spent time with his family, relaxing, treating himself. He also says that he's had offers in the meantime, but doesn't say from whom.

Garth Crooks speaks ... at great length: Keane references dog-walking for the first time, saying his mutts need a break. Cue: raucous undeserved guffawing from the assembled media lickspittles. God, they ... no, we are a craven disgrace. Keane tells Garth that although he's signed a two-year contract, he hopes to get Ipswich promoted in one year. He also intimates that he's been told funds will be available.

What does Keane expect from his players? Hard work and punctuality. Anyone who trains hard and on time will enjoyplaying for me, he says, while anyone who doesn't will be out the door.

Our first email of the day: "I hope Keano factored in the high possibility of tractor delays to his commute before signing on the dotted line," writes Jon Whiting. Not even a football writer would laugh at that.

4.09pm: Garth Crooks chips in with two more questions and you can see that Keane is already getting sick of him and desperately resisting the urge to roll his eyes to heaven. Keane says he had a gut-feeling about joining the club and yes, he will be living in the area. He says he'll probably bring in one or two players and that it would be unfair of him to say to those at the club whose contracts are up this summer that they only have two games left to earn new ones.

4.11pm: That's it, short and sweet. The press conference is over and Keane is gone to talk to the newspaper hacks now: dailies first, then Sundays, then TV reporters. My thanks to you, Jon Whiting, for your time and your email. In these straitened times, it would probably been a better use of Guardian resources if I'd just given you a bell and told you what was happening.