Well as week-ends go that was quite eventful if you’re a Brit and enjoy sport. Now we have a reputation for being gallant losers or just losers on the world sporting stage. But after the Olympics and Bradley Wiggins winning the Tour de France and our amazing come-back victory in the Ryder Cup and some brilliant individual golfing achievements recently by Rose and McDowell, we are turning into world beaters. Blimey. And then this week-end we only went and topped everything by delivering a fantastic series win by the Lions in Australia on Saturday morning, later on Chris Froome donned the yellow jersey and then, oh my lord, yesterday afternoon we only went and won Wimbledon with Andy Murray. The title that’s evaded us even longer than the World Cup. What’s happening? Where are the Australians and Americans, Russians, Germans and other sporting giants on the world stage? Bloody nowhere. Continue reading
I need to admit it; I have an unusual interest. It’s nothing too creepy, I like to look at and admire things that are just a little bit wrong or not terribly good. Simple things like enjoying the images of a carefree Carl Vorderman emerging from the ITV studios in a bodycon dress that’s just a teeny bit too tight or the way Paul Scholes tackled. Possibly the greatest midfielder England has ever produced with the ball at his feet, but a complete lummox when it came to trying to take the ball from the feet of others. If he could have tackled like Booby Moore he would be regarded as better than Pele. Unfortunately his tackling prowess was closer to Brian Moore’s. But to watch him scythe down an opponent a good two minutes after the guy had passed the ball to a team-mate was a source of sheer joy to me. He turned contact clumsiness into an art form and he’d cap it with a show of utter disbelief whenever he was pulled up by some short-sighted referee and shown a very rare yellow card. Ah priceless.
Well I’ve done a number of postings about Sir Cliff. I have to say that I find him to be a self-absorbed little man with a fascination about his own looks. A modern-day Narcissus if ever there was one. He’s also incredibly successful at what he does and I acknowledge he has a huge of base of adoring fans – most of whom are middle-aged women. But I can’t help but comment on his preening and his self-obsessionism. And here’s a staggering conclusion; if he’s not gay I’ll drink my swimming pool dry. Don’t misunderstand me, he’s perfectly entitled to a private life and I don’t care what he does with consenting adults in his own home. Being gay is absolutely something to be proud of. But I’m always enraged by his obfuscation over the subject and by the many women who rush to his defence whenever I say something like this and by their denial over his probable sexuality. I suspect I know why Cliff doesn’t come out – he’s afraid that army of women fans will disown him and his earning capacity will decrease massively. Down to the last £100m are we Cliff and what, too graspingly money-grubbing to be honest for once?