I know I promised a posting on Jeremy Clarkson next but I’ve got a bloody tune that I can’t get out of my head and I’m hoping this post will clear it. It’s by the guy pictured above, Gregory Porter, and despite wearing daft hats he’s a bit of a cool jazzy singer.
I know millions will disagree but there was unconfined joy in this household this week at the news that Sir Bruce Forsyth has at long last decided to remove his patent leather shoes and that ridiculous rug and retire from presenting Strictly Come Dancing. Jeez I’ve had to wait until the hoofer turned 86 (that’s like 653 in old goat years) before giving up squinting at his cue cards and mangling his useless quips and punchlines. I was starting to believe that the cancer would get me before he called it a day. Hufriggingrrah
This isn’t a posting about football as such but I was amused to read some words this weekend from a Premiership manager who showed once again the ex-footballer truism; that his brains and modesty are distant cousins from his mouth. The manager is Alan Pardew who, in case you don’t know, was recently banned from all stadia for 3 matches for head-butting a player during a Premiership match. It sounds incredibly hot-headed and thuggish but it’s true. Then again he is employed by Newcastle United, a club which seems to have learned all about sound governance from Led Zeppelin’s management team in the 70′s, which pays Mr Pardew just the £1.5M per year to set a fine example to its playing staff and recently rewarded Alan with an 8 year virtually unbreakable contract. Anyway the manager was back in the dressing room for this week-end’s match against Southampton after seeing his side lose two games in his absence, although he will not actually be allowed on the touchline for another 4 games. At the pre-match briefings he told the listening journos that ‘It’s good to be back. You have that relationship with players. Put on top my personality, which we all know is a bit of a winning mentality (it’s true I swear) and I want to make sure we win’. Well no doubt inspired by the return of their smart silver-haired manager and his profound words, the Newcastle team ran out and received a proper gubbing, losing 4-0 and it could easily have been double that. Ahh Alan, you’re the Sultan of Self-Centredness and you just can’t stop yourself from saying things that give me real pleasure. It’s that winnning personality eh.
Hello blogsite my old friend, I’ve come to write with you again. It’s nice to be back feeling fit and good. I’ve finished my course of chemotherapy at long last and all looks pretty positive. I’ve even gone through all manner of tests on my heart and have a great story for you about doctors and diagnoses and don’t believe all they say, but that’s for another posting. Today I wanted to write about something uplifting and hit upon the theme of old friends. Specifically an old friend you may not have seen for like a million years when all of a sudden his (or her) name pops into your memory. Have you ever experienced that?
There are one or two footballers I have found instantly unlikeable even though I don’t really know them. One has been Arjen Robben whose rolling dives in agony after the merest hint of body contact with an opposing full-back, used to make Didier Drogba blush. And they were team mates. I know this sounds callous but I used to wish that he’d payed against the likes of Stuart Pearce or Julian Dicks whose tackles often resulted in a flying winger ending up in Row C of the spectators. Ribs would be properly bruised when Psycho said hello. Anyway after a couple of seasons in the ‘brutal’ Premiership old Arjen took himself off to the gentler slopes of La Ligue where the Real fans decided he was a tosser too so off he toddled to the Bundesliga where he joined the great Bayern Munich. It’s not been a bad career for the Dutchman and he topped it with the winning goal in last season’s Champion’s League Final. And didn’t he celebrate… like a knob.
Several new phrases have entered the media language this week-end spawned by the actions of two of our enduring entertainers, who are occasionally celebrated in this blog (and if you can’t guess their identities the image above is a clue to both of them!).