Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Watford Shopping Centre

Via Facebook

A follow up to the album challenge.

Day #7
With no explanations, post ten books that have made their mark on your life. Once a day, post the book cover and nominate a new person.


Monday, April 23, 2018

The Philatelist Club

Via Facebook.

A follow up to the album challenge.

Day #6
With no explanations, post ten books that have made their mark on your life. Once a day, post the book cover and nominate a new person.

PC (Perspex Metalwork)

Sunday, April 22, 2018

I'm a sucker for a good front cover . . .

Via Facebook

A follow up to the album challenge.

Day #5
With no explanations, post ten books that have made their mark on your life. Once a day, post the book cover and nominate a new person.

Pigs Feet (North London)

Saturday, April 21, 2018

It was always much more than just Walker . . .

Via Facebook

A follow up to the album challenge.

Day #4
With no explanations, post ten books that have made their mark on your life. Once a day, post the book cover and nominate a new person.

MM (The Portland Dandy.)

Friday, April 20, 2018

Carr trumps Newell . . .

Via Facebook

A follow up to the album challenge.

Day #3
With no explanations, post ten books that have made their mark on your life. Once a day, post the book cover and nominate a new person.

JG (The Timperley Anarchist)

Thursday, April 19, 2018

"That email address is a passing phase . . ."

Via Facebook

A follow up to the album challenge.

Day #2
With no explanations, post ten books that have made their mark on your life. Once a day, post the book cover and nominate a new person.


Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Lest we forget . . .

. . . they were cheering their heads off when the draw was made:

Rumour has it the self-same individuals were throwing themselves into the Clyde after this.

Saturday, March 31, 2018

Friday, March 30, 2018

Calling On (ex) Youth

It's the " . . . and Other Lies" that nails it for me.  Hat tip to the late Mr. Borland for the borrowed and reworked song title as post title.

It's obvious, I know, but another jpeg courtesy of a folder trawl.

My Favourite Waste of Time . . .

. . . is scrawling through unnamed folders on the laptop and finding random jpegs saved from months previously, and thinking 'Why the fuck did I save that? What was the point? What will I do with it?' 

Of course the self-interrogation reveals no answers and I'm left with no other recourse than to either bin it - and I've binned thousands of said jpegs - or randomly post them on a blog that should have been blow torched years ago.

Apparently- no apparently about it you dunderheid, it's posted below - Charlie Nic' once appeared on the front cover of the NME. (All the more shocking because it wasn't Stuart Cosgrove who is on the byline.) It dates from 1984, so I would either have been reading Smash Hits or Number 1 at the time, so it passed me by. Nowadays, Charlie Nicholas is considered a blow hard dickhead for those of you have access to a subscription to Sky Sports. I don't have a sub, so I still cling on to the happy memories of him being a brilliant player for Celtic circa 81-83. By November '84, when he appeared on the front cover of the inky music press he was what is best described as a mercurial playmaker in a so-so Arsenal team. By '84, for Arsenal, the FA Cup finals were long gone and George Graham was yet to appear on the horizon but they kept Nick Hornby busy and, for me, YouTube clips of Nicholas, Woodcock and Mariner will always take preference over the dull shite that Arsenal became when they were winning titles and breaking scouser' hearts in the late '80s.

Why was Nicholas on the front cover of the NME in 1984? I don't have a scooby. Sadly, the interview/article itself is not online and, short of winning the lottery, I'm not forking out 15 dollars on ebay to find out why. I never pegged him as a 'trendy' when it came to matters relating to  music. That was Nevin and McClair's niche. And the Owen Paul haircut doesn't help matters. 

Never mind. Charlie and I will always have Switzerland.

Divinyl Comedy

I wish I was the same. I just stare at our book cases and I'm overcome with a sense of self-loathing at all the unread books staring back at me. The bastards are taunting me.

Shelf Bores

When you finally get round to reading a book and, in the main, you are enjoying it and you then make the mistake of reading the reviews  . . . and they are shitting all over it. Yeah, that.

Thursday, March 29, 2018

So It Goes . . .

The "It" being both my short and long term memory. Thank christ for Marky Z. and the eggheads over at Facebook to remind me from time to time as to what I was thinking - or in this case, dreaming - on this day in history. Poor Marky Z has been getting the proverbial kicking these past few weeks because of his cheeky data harvesting gig but if it wasn't him, it would have been MySpace Tom . . .

A half-formed memory from six years ago:

Saturday, March 24, 2018

Murphy's Mob by Michael Saunders (Puffin Books 1982)

Dunmore United was a lousy football club. They were bottom of the fourth division, and they had almost lost their place in that last season, but when Mac Murphy saw they were looking for a new manager he was in no position to be choosy. He'd been demoted himself, sacked by the first division club he'd been managing when they were relegated last season. His wife, Elaine, was all in favour when he mentioned Dunmore United. And so the two of them drove down to the Midlands one drizzly summer's afternoon to keep an appointment with Dunsmore's new owner, Rasputin Jones.

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

An old bastard regrets . . .

Damn, just clicked through my 'People Just Want To Dream' list of blogs on the sidebar. Not only have the majority of them gone to the big talking shop in the sky, but most of them jumped ship around about June 2010.

I should have kept my eye on the ball . . . burst or not.

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Friday, January 19, 2018

Someone in need of an extra bookcase writes . . .

I'll never read. I know I'll never read them. Do I kid myself on that, at least, they are going to a 'good home'? What's a good home if they don't get read?

Men in White Suits: Liverpool FC in the 1990s - The Players' Stories by Simon Hughes (Bantam Press 2015)

Mangotsfield United saw enough in Tanner to ask him to training, where he first met the late Ralph Miller, a legendary non-league manager, who was a builder by trade.

‘I enjoyed playing under Ralph more than Bobby Gould, Gerry Francis, Kenny Dalglish or Graeme Souness,’ Tanner beams. ‘He loved players that got stuck in, and I was one of them. He was an old-school psychologist, a bit like Bill Shankly, I suppose. The funny stories are endless.’

Tanner recalls one.

‘There was a player that he desperately wanted to sign for Mangotsfield. Problem was, the fella lived in South Wales. So he drove over the bridge in his van with a bicycle in the back. He pleaded with the fella at his front door. “Look, I’ve cycled all the  way over here from Bristol to sign you.” The lad looked at his bike. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “You must really want me.” So he signed the forms there and then. Ralph rode around the corner and chucked his bike in the back of the van before driving home.

‘When I was about eighteen, we decided to go on our first lads’ holiday to Magaluf. To prepare for the holiday I decided to get myself fit, so I went out running every day – did sit-ups, press-ups, the lot. It was the fittest I’ve ever been. After our first pre-season session back at Mangotsfield, I got out of the shower looking all bronzed. “Fuck me,” Ralph went. “You’ve got a body like Tarzan and a prick like Jane!”’

In the mid-eighties, Bristol Rovers were, as Tanner puts it, ‘in financial shit’ and needing players that would play for practically nothing, so manager Bobby Gould scoured the Gloucestershire and Somerset county leagues for undiscovered talent.

‘Rovers signed Gary Penrice, Phil Purnell, Gary Smart and myself from Mangotsfield, all for the princely sum of two floodlight bulbs. I can still remember Ralph turning up at Eastville Stadium while all of us were playing in a reserve game, shouting at the top of his voice, “Where’s my money, Gouldy?” That was Ralph all over. In later years he came to Anfield to watch me play and said how proud he was of me, which touched me, coming from such a hard man.'

Saturday, January 13, 2018

The Nice Guys (2016)

An exasperated parent who wants to kick Seth Rogen in the gonads writes . . .

At the moment I'm having to lie to Owen that I've seen Superbad so many times - I think I quoted the number 30 at him - that if he ever utters even the shortest of lines from the film, I will know he has watched the film on the sly, despite our strict instruction that he is not allowed to watch it on his kindle.

That Canuck fuck Seth Rogen has a lot to answer for. McHatin' at the moment.

Thursday, January 04, 2018

Blood Sympathy by Reginald Hill (Harper 1993)

Lutonians talk about Hermsprong with a muted horror which is almost pride. Here is the original urban black hole into which all social subsidy and welfare work is sucked without trace. Perhaps the best account of the estate was given by its senior social worker on Radio Luton shortly before her breakdown.

‘Hermsprong is a truly organic community,’ she said in a very quiet, very restrained voice. ‘Here everyone has a place and a function. Here there are none so poor they cannot be robbed, none so insignificant they cannot be reviled, none so inoffensive they cannot be hated. This is the far end of Thatcherism. On Hermsprong they need no nanny state, they already take care of each other.’

Compared with this, Rasselas was a health resort.

Monday, January 01, 2018

A Judy Collins fan blubs . . .

One drawback of leaving stuff on your desktop that you were meaning to use in happier days is that if you leave it lying around long enough, it will come back to bite you in the arse. December 30th 2017 was not a good day . . . and nobody in green and white was laughing. 

Granted, it could have been a lot worse. Can Dembele do an offski for a shedload of cash now? I fear my current hoops dream, Leigh Griffiths, will go the way of Riordan and McCourt. (I know, I'm stretching it a bit here.)

The above screen grab has been waiting patiently on the desktop since the 18th of August of last year. I really missed my punchline there, reader.

That 2018 Facebook New Year Resolution in Full

I just know that 613 of the links will be saved George Takei videos from 2013. It's what's holding me back.

That, That and That: It's an 80s thing . . .

Aston Villa's Nigel Spink.

Don't mind me, I'm just clearing out the desktop for 2018. A cracking picture which, for some reason, gives me a warm glow. Of course I remember his appearance in that final. At the time, Aston Villa were my 'English team' . . .  possibly still are, as I'm not sure I ever replaced them. (PS - don't watch the highlights of the final on YouTube. It will shatter old pre-pubescent dreams. Munich 'mullered' Villa that night, and Withe's goal was a bit of a smash and grab.

Before I get accused of glory hunting . . . in my defence: 1) I was 10 or 11. A funny age at the best of times. 2) I've always been a sucker for teams in claret and blue. Trabzonspor, here I come. 3) Not so much naked glory hunting per se, as falling in love with that Tony Morley goal of the season against Everton. 

And, yes, I will get round to reading that Ron Saunders biography in 2018. Not in a million years would I have pegged Miserable Ron as centre forward in his playing days. That nugget alone is intriguing enough.

Start as you mean to go on . . .

I laughed.

Comedy gold for your cold black heart from this guy.