Pride (2014)

The Rewrite (2014)

A World Cup post . . .

Nicked from Urban 75:

The Prisoner of Brenda by Colin Bateman (Headline 2012)

She came into No Alibis, the finest mystery bookshop in all of Belfast, bedraggled from the autumn wind and rain and sleet and hail, pulled her red hood down and spluttered hello and long time no see and wouldn’t this be a great wee country if we just had nice weather, all in one puffy gasp, and I gave her the look I keep for idiots who deserve to be struck about the head with a hammer, but made sure to add a welcoming smile just to confuse her. Times were hard in the book trade, and one couldn’t afford to look a horse-face in the gift-mouth.

I did in fact recognise her, because I never forget a long toothy gob, but I wasn’t sure if she would remember me. She had been nice to me in the past, but that was no guarantee of anything. People change, or they have ulterior motives. You have to be on your guard at all times. I have been stabbed in the back thousands of times and have the mental scars to prove it, and one physical one where Mother caught me with a fish hook.

She stood there, dripping, and said, ‘So how are you? How have you been?’

‘Fine,’ I said. There was a small sign hanging from the till that said Ask About Our Christmas Club. It was not aligned properly. I fixed it. Despite this, she did not ask. After a while I remembered to say, ‘How are you?’

My on-off girlfriend Alison had lately been coaching me in the niceties, but I found them difficult, and ultimately, hypocritical. I didn’t care how she was. I didn’t care how anyone was. What was the point? We were all going to die.

‘You do remember me, don’t you?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Nurse Brenda.’

She smiled. ‘Nurse Brenda,’ she repeated.

‘Nurse Brenda,’ I said.”

Out of the Shadows: The Story of the 1982 England World Cup Team by Gary Jordan (Pitch Publishing 2017)

A few short minutes later, Keegan’s moment came. Mariner moved the ball quickly inside the box, Robson was forced a little wide on the left but a clever touch gave him space and, when he looked up, he couldn’t believe his luck. There was Keegan unmarked, ten yards out and racing towards goal. Robson chipped a perfectly weighted ball that was right into the substitute’s path. Keegan was eight yards from goal. Arconada had misjudged Robson’s cross and was in no man’s land. Keegan had to score. He didn’t. Maybe he tried to be too precise and direct the ball with his head rather than just run through and power it in. Whatever the reason, the ball skewed off his head and went a yard or so wide of the gaping, empty net. Sinking to his knees, his face contorted in the pain his miss caused. Mariner was the first to him and tried to half console him/half get him up off the ground. Keegan shrugged the attention away.

Porridge (1979)

Nailed It.

Via Facebook:

Attack the Block (2011)

Bobby Robson: More Than a Manager (2018)

The 'Burbs (1989)