I had a bit of a surprise this week. No it wasn’t seeing Rob Brydon canter over the zebra crossing with his kid right in front of me this morning. Nor was it the guilty verdict handed down to that dirty old git Max Clifford, a man who made a fortune exposing the perverted little peccadillos of many a sleazy celebrity. Isn’t life ironic eh? It will be sweet justice for his victims I guess to see him banged up for a long stretch knowing the lads who will make Max Mad will be lining up in the shower block. No the real surprise was a telephone call from an old colleague, A, from Cellnet days who I hadn’t heard from in almost 25 years. It was an early morning call and he asked about my health and the family, which was decent, but it quickly became apparent that his main purpose in calling was because he had an issue with what I’d written in this blog posting back in 2007:
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.