White Lines (Football & Cocaine) #1

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way... Oh what fun it is to see Chelsea win away... 

In the beginning they were simple days. Hop on an inter city train early am, stock up on beers from the blessed buffet (have I mentioned their toast before?), sit back in a compartment or stretch out across 8 seats to talk through prospects for the game, prospects for the season, prospects for the night out in town after the game and what excuse we could make to get out of our Sunday League fixture tomorrow.  

We weren't the Wrecking Crew, Old Town Tooled up Mob, Bunch of Nutters, Beachy Headcases, South Coast Psycho Gang, The Crumbles Rumble Squad or even The Sussex Naughty Boys! We were simply loyal supporters on our way to see our team (albeit in 'enemy territory'). 

Truth be told thought, we were just out for a pie, a pint & hopefully 3 points! And remarkably we carried on like this for a few years, a little rowdy now and then (especially the time we headed up to Old Trafford under the guise of Jaap Stamm's Transit Van Gang) but we never threw a punch or copped a hiding. 

Not even the time a Man City crew attached themselves to our party and offered to show us round Manchester... that was a close call! 

However, it all went smoothly until Mr White joined our happily little band of travellers.

He started turning up to the bigger games (notably a Cup Semi-final at Villa Park). He'd loiter at the back of the Executive mini-bus, hang around in Inter-City toilets and leave powder traces in the stadium bogs. After these trips, the chaps started to get a little more intense, a little lary (if you will), a little more wankerish. Small schisms would appear. 

The cost of a match day was getting steep... Ticket, Tube, Train, Beers, Food, Charlie, Taxi's to & from the ground, more food, more beers, more Charlie... Looking at the wrong end of £500 just to go and watch a 1-1 draw at Middlesborough! 

And then things got a little tastier - We started going to Europe! 

Tbc...

Falling out of love with professional football (1-20)

1. 
   The venal nature of this mid season World Cup
2. The infernal sponsors 
3. Ronaldo
4. The false humility 
5. The hypocrisy of the pundits 
6. The relentless alliteration of the over practiced commentators 
7. The tinkering with the rules for the sake of trying to remain somehow relevant 
8. The mind-numbing interviews
9. Referees with names on their shirts
10. Simon Jordan
11. Oil States buying up the top tier teams
12. Hedge funds buying up 2nd tier teams
13. Film stars buying up smaller teams
14. PR agencies and player agents just f'in things up
15. 24/7 coverage with nothing new to say
16. WAGS
17. The number of footballers currently on rape/sexual abuse charges
18. Ticket prices
19. Racist fans
20. Clubs hi-jacked by the wealthy outfits...
    

Falling out of love with professional football...

Now, don't get me wrong, I love football. I have since my first memories of the game. The emotions that it can bring still shred and jangle the nerves. But, I am falling out of love so very rapidly with the professional game, for these reasons (and a 100 more).

The lack of joy - the self-importance - the money - the lies - the suits - the kits - the boots - the sponsors - the throw-in coaches - the agents - the transfer deadline day - the journalists - the pundits - the bloody pundits - the lego stadia - the fixtures - the relentless fixtures - the pointless tournaments - the international breaks - the re-writing of history - the hyper-legacy culture - FIFA - UEFA - the backhanders - the TV rights - the ex-players harping on about when they were playing they could stab the opposition centre forward with a stiletto knife, bury his body in a trench behind the away dug-out and marry his bereaved wife and still have a pint with him in the players bar afterwards - the contrived commentary convincingly concocted by an alliterative allegory addict - the perfect pitches - the crisis club in complete chaos - the conmen - the chairmen - the ever changing kick-off times - the club ambassadors - the corporate hostility - The...... etc etc you get the picture...

Football coming home - #2

England's failure to qualify for the 1974 & 1978 World Cups helped to ease them to the back of the countries collective consciousness. Whilst we had a rubbish national team or club teams started to assert themselves on the European stage. With Liverpool, Nottingham Forest (I know) & Aston Villa (I know) all helped themselves to the European Cup, whilst England bumbled along until 1982 in Spain when for a brief while things looked to be heading in the right direction unlike Kevin Keegan's misplaced header, that saw us crash out in the over complicated second group stage. Mind you the progress to the finals themselves had been fairly harrowing... How can anyone forget Bjørge Lillelien? 

"We are the best in the world! We are the best in the world! We have beaten England 2-1 in football!! It is completely unbelievable! We have beaten England! England, birthplace of giants. Lord Nelson, Lord Beaverbrook, Sir Winston Churchill, Sir Anthony Eden, Clement Attlee, Henry Cooper, Lady Diana--we have beaten them all. We have beaten them all.

"Maggie Thatcher can you hear me? Maggie Thatcher, I have a message for you in the middle of the election campaign. I have a message for you: We have knocked England out of the football World Cup. Maggie Thatcher, as they say in your language in the boxing bars around Madison Square Garden in New York: Your boys took a hell of a beating! Your boys took a hell of a beating!" 

Bjørge Lillelien - Norway v England Oslo 9th September 1981 

The 82 World Cup was mostly memorable for the celebrations of the numerous Italian students who used to spend their summer holidays learning English on the snoozy Sussex coast. They went Tonto! 

Whilst Chelsea bounced around between the top two divisions barely threatening to win anything, England had plumped for mediocrity: Ron Greenwood replaced the despicable Revie and Brian Clough was left to rot in a bottle at the City Ground. Greenwood in turn was replaced by the affable Bobby Robson (who like Sir Alf Ramsey had had the misfortune to manage Ipswich Town prior to the England job). I on the other hand had missed the formative months of punk rock, embraced a Modernist lifestyle, swerved the New Romantic scene and settled on a Mod/Post-Punk/Funk/Jazz vision of the future!

Occasional trips to The Shed were accompanied by visits to Kensington Market & Carnaby Street. Fred Perry & a Chelsea pin badge - nice! 

Thankfully, England managed to qualify for Mexico 1986. We even had a decent couple of players, the mercurial John Barnes and the clinical Gary Lineker. We managed to escape the group stage in no part due to Lineker (Line-acre according to Mick Channon). "It's finally happened in Monterey..." courtesy of the magnificent Barry Davies. Next stop Argentina in the quarter-finals, what could possibly go wrong? 

Football coming home - #1

I have been a fully fledged football fan since 22nd February 1970 around about 2:30pm. The trigger for what became a lifelong affliction was the transmission on ITV of 'The Big Match' featuring QPR v Chelsea in the FA Cup quarter final. The specific incident that then changed my life was the decision of the referee Mr K.Howley to demand that a QPR penalty be retaken. The reason being that Chelsea keeper Peter Bonetti had supposedly moved before the kick was taken and smothered the shot by Rangers skipper Terry Venables. So incensed was I, by this blatant anti-Chelsea bias, I immediately and irrevocably threw my support behind The Mighty Blues. Although to be honest I didn't know they were blue at the time, not least because we were wearing our yellow away shirts but because our family only got a colour tv in 1975!

The reason I mention this is simply because, it was my choice, my decision alone and all these years later the fact that I am a season ticket holder (East Upper), despite living in Sydney, Australia is a direct result of that decision. The fact that I put on 'Three Lions' an hour ago and immediately dissolved into tears is something else all together. I did not choose my country of birth. I am English, despite myself. Therefore, I support the England team, I have to, not necessarily because I want to, just simply because.

I had been aware of the England team prior to my Loftuscene conversion in 1970. Any kid growing up in England knew of the holy trinity of Moore, Hurst & Peters - in fact I'd even flirted with becoming a West Ham fan but it didn't feel quite right. In a perfect storm of falling in love with Chelsea, them subsequently beating 'Dirty Leeds' in the FA Cup Final and the World Cup being played in Mexico that summer, I was being groomed for a lifetime of success and... failure. 

England crashed out against the dreaded West Germans and what's more, one of my Chelsea heroes Peter Bonetti (aka The Cat) was widely blamed (though not by me) for his part in the defeat - although Gerd Muller's shot from about 4 years out also had something to do with it. The heartbreak that particular defeat inflicted is still surprisingly raw. Surely, the reason to like football is because my team would always win. This losing malarkey was not what I signed up for. 

The tale of Chelsea's travails and subsequent redemption will no doubt be covered at another date (the joy of lockdown). This article however, is about my relationship with the England team. After Mexico, things got steadily worse for Sir Alf & his boys. Gunter Netzer demolished our Euro 1972 hopes and Poland had made qualification for the 1974 World Cup a little harder than anticipated. However, all we had to do was beat them at Wembley - easy!

Expectations both at school and home were ridiculously high. Special plans had been made and I could even watch the game: A) live and B) in colour - thanks to the next door neighbour. Anyway, history shows that England only managed to draw 1-1 and that Norman Hunter should have smashed the ball into row Z before Shilton had the chance to dive over Domarski's shot. We were out and not going to the World Cup. The upside was being able to revel in the joy of Holland's total football and that bloody Muller again. Perhaps England were not the team I'd been led to believe...

Surely the appointment of Don Revie from 'Dirty Leeds' would change our fortunes. In hindsight, it was as misguided as appointing Sam Allardyce decades later. Revie's Leeds team were a talented bunch of players, managed by a negative and dubious individual (to say the least). Brian Clough was right: 

"Well, I might as well tell you now. You lot may all be internationals and have won all the domestic honours there are to win under Don Revie. But as far as I'm concerned, the first thing you can do for me is to chuck all your medals and all your caps and all your pots and all your pans into the biggest f***ing dustbin you can find, because you've never won any of them fairly. You've done it all by bloody cheating." 

Brian Clough - To Leeds players on first day of training.

Revie failed to get any decent results (or even bribe any opponents) and he ended up bunking off to the UAE for a sackful of cash (always his ultimate motive). World Cup 1978 was off the cards and by now I was firmly of the opinion that we were bloody useless. I'd find myself going to Stamford Bridge every week and quietly tolerating the rubbish on the windswept and distant pitch from the confines of the hotbed of congeniality and ready wit that was The Shed End. However, the thought of watching England, despite their swanky new fancy pants Admiral kits (courtesy of Don Revie?), was not so appealing. I'd much rather spend my money on going to gigs or on the brand new 7" single 'In the city'from a little known trio from Woking who I subsequently realised were called The Jam.

Day in the life of a Poet (September 2020)

Suburban rapture 

 -- Dusk builds in the distance

behind the drab grey

Corporation tennis courts.

Fading football matches

scurry to a last goal wins

disputed conclusion.

Clouds of Rothmans

and Embassy, filter 

upwards --

Suburban rapture.

She loves he loves 

we love we hate

West Ham run

ACAB etc---

Brick wall, Fluoro script, 

the Newtown Rosetta.

Another cider night

in the den. Rituals.

-- Bringing us closer

to the end. 

A perfect day in the perfect pub - #2

"This is the day your life will surely change..."

The various 7" singles that comprise the jukebox have been lovingly chosen over the last 50+ years. A surprise selection of The The's "This is the day" adds a delicate hint of melancholy quite early in proceedings (everyone knows that the real pub melancholy hour is from 3:30-4:30pm).

Meanwhile, the first Guinness isn't hurried as today there is plenty of time. In fact there is time to go to the bar and buy a packet of mini cheddars, taking a glance at the newspaper rack (all copies ironed) and surreptitiously taking a copy La Gazzetta dello Sport back to the table. Even though my Italian is very sketchy, fortunately the language of Calcio and grand tour cycling is universal.

The debate about whether a pub needs a television to be good or not is irrelevant. The key is, who is in charge of the remote control? Thankfully, today it is the turn of the Cecil (MCC member and ex-member of the Angry Bridgade). When Cecil (my friends call me Cec' you can call me Sir) Hedges has the remote then we are guaranteed a whole day's play of uninterrupted Test Match Cricket with the sound muted (unless a batsman is approaching a landmark score). The added advantage of this arrangement is, if you have missed any session of play then Cec can regale you with all the details, not least because he completes the pubs ball-by-ball scorebook in a meticulous fashion.

"Whatcha gonna do about it..."

Ah yes, the Small Faces on the jukebox and the mood lightens. First pint finished, the preview of Sampdoria's chances for the coming season completed, along with a retrospective on Marco Pantani and the mini cheddars done... the hum of SoHo traffic reduced by the sound of the Darlings of Whapping Wharf Launderette.

"I want you to know that I love you, baby
Want you to know that I care

I'm so happy when you're round me but I'm
Sad when you're not there
Sing the song now

oh yeah
(Whatcha gonna do about it?) tell the truth
(Whatcha gonna do about it?) she's so nice
(Whatcha gonna do about it?)

I want you to give your sweet, sweet kisses
Want you to hold me tight

I want you to come whenever I call you
And let me walk you home at night..."

Psychogeographical Meanderings - Brixton > Soho #8

The heady mix of Charlie (perfume and powder) and Castrol GTX (from the arches) are left dancing in the breeze to the sound of the HI-NRG soundtrack emanating from The Royal Vauxhall Tavern.

A gentle stroll as we head on to MI6, a ghastly looking building that is better forgotten - (Although I always loved the fact that everyone knew what it was and who was there but it never appeared in the Londoners bible A-Z). Instead, move on as the Thames shimmers underneath the Vauxhall Bridge.

Talking of bridges, further West the floodlights of Stamford Bridge fill the heart with joy and exuberance.

Even from this distance I can still hear The Shed singing:

"Out from The Shed came a rising young star, scoring goals past Pat Jennings from near and from far, when Cheslea won as we all knew they would, the star of that great team was Peter Osgood, Osgood, Osgood  Osgood, Osgood Born is the king of Stamford Bridge!"

Lockdown - Day #23

The taste of another Kronenbourg night reminds me where I am, not alone in a single bed. Dressed, out and up the steps back onto Marine Parade. Back over the rode giving the flying fists of The Crown & Anchor I wide berth.

The tide is inching back, the gulls are hopping from bin to KFC box. I can clearly make out the miles of anti-landing wire & wood rolling along the beach. All the way from the threat of Operation SeaLion to VE Day.

Six young men in two different bands, split into two teams and yet another rusted can of Pepsi is converted into an Adidas Mondial. A blur of tartan shirts, Levis and chukka boots. A brace of bikes stolen from outside the town centre Library are leaning gently against the dark blue railings. 

Final score: Hip Troop 13 v 12 Aztec Camera... 
(Based on time-honoured last goal stands tradition)

Whose side are you on? - The trick-psychology of sport

When England are playing Australia (or indeed anyone) at Cricket, I know with absolute clarity who I want to win. Likewise Chelsea v Arsenal, Celtic v Rangers... my allegiance is clear and absolute. In fact I have quite clear allegiances that go a long way down the list. This was brought to my attention in the pub over the last weekend. 

A good friend of mine raised the question about taking sides, whatever the sport, whatever the fixture - we both concluded that not taking sides was impossible. Whether or not it is a New Zealand district rugby trial or a meaningless 1st round Snooker fixture in the Thai-Laos International Invitational Comp - you've got to have a side. 

I put this to the test with some random computer generated football fixtures. The results are as follows (teams in BOLD are the one's I'd prefer to win).

Manchester United v Liverpool

Liverpool v Arsenal

Arsenal v Tottenham 

Tottenham v Chelsea

Chelsea v West Ham 

West Ham v Fulham

Fulham v QPR

QPR v Brighton

Brighton v Eastbourne Borough

Eastbourne Borough v PSG

PSG v Ajax

Ajax v Inter

Inter v Juventus

Juventus v Real Madrid

Real Madrid v Barcelona

Barcelona v AC Milan

AC Milan v Celtic

Celtic v Rangers

Rangers v Berwick Rangers

Berwick Rangers v Derry City

Derry City v Cardiff City

Cardiff City v Anderlecht

Anderlecht v KV Oostende

KV Oostende v Rapid Vienna

Rapid Vienna v Bohemians (of Prague)....

Bohemians (of Prague) v Manchester United

...To be honest this could literally go on for ever!

Ronnie O'Sullivan v Mark Selby

Mark Selby v John Higgins

Football Heroes #5 - George Best

Superstar

Football Heroes #6 - Franz Beckenbauer

Der Kaiser 

Football Heroes #4 - Jimmy Greaves

Chelsea, AC Milan, Tottenham Hotspur, West Ham United...

England

Football Heroes #3 - Holland '74

Total Football

Football Heroes #2 - Bobby Moore

Captain

Football Heroes #1 - Peter Osgood

The King of Stamford Bridge

Footballers as Bands revisited - 2019 version

The Battle of the Pun-dits (AKA Deco and the Bunnymen)!

1. Deco and the Bunnymen
2. Jo Division
3. Brian Roy Division!
4. A Certain Raich Carter
5. Rip Giggs and Panic
6. franz RIO ferdinand,
7. the STEVE stone roses,
8. Hawkwind 70's dirge DA SILVA machine
9. Staring at the Ruud van Nistelrooys
10. Torres Amos
11. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Eric Young
12. Nat King Scholes.
13. The Keownly Ones
14. Mark Hughesie and the Banshees.
15. Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Ji-Sung Park
16. Beckenbauerhaus.
17. Everything But Robbie Earle
18. Eminemerson
19. Jean Tiganarama?
20. Van Den Hauwe That's What I Call Music
21. Ian Rush
22. Gillan
23. Scharnhorst Hrubesch...
24. Cafu Fighters
25. Im-Hagi-nation
26. Maradona Summer
27. Zubizaretta James
28. Roberto Carlos Santana...
29. Gilberto Sullivan.
30. Pele-dtron
31. Dugarry Glitter.
32. Youri Bjorkaeff.
33. Louis S-Aha
34. Romario Hara
35. Kanu West.
36. Eto'o-ny Bennett.
37. The Stiles Council
38. Luis Elbow-amorte
39. Rage Against The Maniche
40. Hamilton BoChannon
41. Ocean Colour Gilzean
42. Klinsmannic Street Preachers
43. Rumenniggers With Attitude
44. The Frinks.
45. Robert Fleck of Seagulls
46. Ashley Cole &The Commotions
47. The Jo-Boxers
48. Gerry Francis & The Pacemakers
49. Martin Peters & Franny Lee
50. A guy called Steven Gerrard
51. Tony Adamski
52. Gunther Netzer Ebb
53. Cabaret John Hare
54. Eric B and Jock Stein
55. Ian Wrighteous Brothers
56. Colin Bell & Sebastien
57. Barry Whitesnake
58. Frankie Lampard goes to Hollywood
59. Joe Cole &The Commotions
60. Lee Perry Groves
61. U-Roy Keane
62. I-Roy Hodgson
63. PreFabregas Sprout
64. Ledley King Tubby
65. David Lee Scratch Chris Perry
66. Bananarama and the tierry-hen-ree.
67. Robin Van Persie Sledge
68. Chuck Ribery
69. The Cisse Sisters?
70. The Alan Brezillos?
71. Eric CantoNas
72. Plunky and The Hoeness of Juju
73. The Pretty Frings
74. Dr Feelgudjohnson
75. Trevor Brooking Curtis
76. david Ngohbetweens
77. Gianfranco ZoLa's
78. El Hadj a googoo?
79. Madnessta.
80. Droy Orbison
81. Babyaro-smith
82. Galvin Stardust...
83. Yakubu Radleys.
84. Flamini Lips.
85. Everything Nicky Butt The Girl.
86. Viljoen armatrading.
87. Sprake That.
88. (Arnold) Muhren5
89. Kings of Lionel Messi.
90. Raul About Eve.
91. Tubeway Barmby.
92. Hurst, Quinn and Myhre....
93. Limparliament
94. Kewell & The gang
95. Aztec Kamara
96. john terry - secret affair
97. Niemi Winehouse
98. Giuly London
99. Funkaderic Young
100. Gordon Two Banks of Four
101. Jimmy Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine
102. The Housemartinchivers
103. Brighton & Hove Damon Albarn
104. Ray Wilson Pickett
105. Otis Reading FC
106. Einsturzende warrenbarton
107. A tribe called Gordon West
108. florence and the mel machin(e)
109. curoiusity killed the chris cat(lin)
110. kajayakuba
111. wayne bridge over troubled waters
112. Groove Almunia
113. Jan Venegoor of Hesselinkin Park.
114. Emerson, Paul Lake & Carlton Palmer
115. Musical Djouf
116. Pink Floyd Hasselbank
117. Scott Parker & the Rumour
118. Robert Green Gartside
119. Klaas Jan Miles Huntelaar
120. Taribo Westlife
121. Theatre of Hately
122. Fine Young Alan Balls
123. Alan Smith 'n Mighty
124. Jan Molby Gees
125. That Petrov Emotion
126. Bert Trautmantronix
127. JJ Okocha Wobble
128. DanZiege
129. ashley young marble giants
130. kid creole and the nigel reo - cokernuts
131. eboue yaa tribe
132. Department Essien
133. The Beautiful Southall
134. Fountains of Wayne
135. Sleepy La Boeuf
136. Maradonna sings Mervynday
137. Bobby Lennox sings Huth that Girl
138. Toni Basil Boli
139. Deutsch-Amerikanische Stefan-Freundschaft
140. Zubizuretta James
141. Kolo Toure BC
142. A Flock of Steve Bulls
143. Nani-na and Frederick
144. Brian Horne-y Horns
145. Bosnich Cave and The Bad Speeds
146. The Lofthouse Family
147. Passarella Fitzgerald
148. Bootsy Collins John
149. Fred Wesley Sneijder
150. Wally Baderooney
151. Lindsey de Paul Ince
152. Ten Cisse
153. Giresse Club Seven
154. Guti Lemper
155. Pak-Do Ik and Tina Turner
156. The Overath of Noise
157. Fashanu kids on the block
158. Peter Marinelly furtado
159. duane edinho
160. Bobby Stokoe Jays
161. Luluther Blisset
162. ShowaddyTotti
163. Jeffers-on Airplane
164. Showaddywaddle
165. Mutu Live Crew
166. Wim Jonkooper Clarke
167. Jimi Hendrixon Etuhu
168. Provan Morrison
169. Vierchowod-ywaddy
170. Magath Brooks
171. Cascarino and Renata
172. Mastadon Givens
173. The Staples Masingas
174. Gerson House
175. Brotherhood Hamman
176. Danny Blind Lemon Jefferson
177. Lauren Blancmange
178. Uwe Sailor
179. Jason Macateer Drop Explodes
180. Bernard Lamahl
181. Chrisperry Ambulance
182. Bob Stokoeholm Monsters
183. Extreme noise.Terry
184. Duranieri Duranieri
185. John Bond Jovi
186. Alec Stock, Roy Aitken & Waterman
187. Brynn Gunns 'n  Roses
188. Felix Magathzine
189. Steve Macmanamanfred Mann
190. T'Pau lo Sousa
191. Sly and Robinho
192. Beyon Seedorf
193. Kiki Dean Saunders
194. Richard Rufus Thomas
195. Michael Ballacker Bilk
196. John Chiedoze, Beaky, Mick and Titch
197. Charlie George Jones
198. Dalglisha Dixon
199. The Undisputed Huth
200. George Graham Central Station
201. Hughes Corporation
202. Bob De Bilde...
203. The Kuqi Crew
204. The Ndlovu Unlimited Orchestra
205. Spackman Turner Overdrive
206. The Three John Scales
207. Tower of Paul Power
208. John Fashanu Model Army
209. Vinnie Jones Girls
210. Bruce GrobbeLast Poets
211. Tommy Steeleye Span
212. Bonzo Dog ADU Dah Band
213. Hermann Hreiðarsson's Hermits
214. Henry Falcao
215. Peters Ball and Narey
216. Heinze Below Zero
217. Muscat Stevens
218. Emmerson Boyce II Men
219. Half Man Half Biscan
220. Olarticoechea-rsay
221. Aldair Supply
222. Ocean Kohler Scene
223. Athletico Spizz Hately
224. This Mortal Owen Coyle
225. Jay Zico
226. Beggar and Kolo Toure
227. Brian Labone Yard
228. Wishbone Ashley Cole
229. Cheb Khal Eder
230. Romario Speedwagon
231. Alex Step Nico
232. Albert ini Kamoze
233. Sukergrass
234. Gloria Deyna
235. Ziege Ziege Sputnik
236. Alienkov Sex Fiend
237. Joe Jordanaires
238. big brother and holding vincent kompany
239. seasick steve perryman
240. The Kevin Beattie Boys
241. Shakin' Gary Stevens
242. John Harley and the Wailers
243. Iggy Papa bouba Diope
244. Stiff Brian Little Fingers
245. Ian Ure & The Blockheads
246. Niall Quinn Lizzy
247. Killing Jokanovic
248. Tony Adams and the Ants
249. Tears for Brian Mears
250. The Ron Futcher sound of London
251. X-Mal Donaghy Deutschland
252. GeorgeBerry Switchblade
253. Paul Robinson Band
254. The Daniel Passarella Roof Orchestra
255. Gilberto y Los trios paranoias
256. Kevin Gallen Drunk
257. PriMalouda Scream
258. PJ David Harvey
259. Red Lorimer Yellow Lorimer
260. Mercury Rivelino
261. Dinosaur Junior
262. The Futcherheads
263. Malcom McLAaron Young
264. Hue & Cruyff
265. Freddie Rinconway Twitty
266. Eartha Kitt Symons
267. Curtiis Schweinstigers
268. Luis Enrique LF
269. The Thomas Berthold Steady
270. Joel Bats For Lashes
271. Lady Burrachagaga
272. The Shangri Lalas
273. The boomtown vasily rats
274. Elvis 'steve' Pressley
275. John 'Neil' Lennon
276. Alexander Martin O'Neal
277. John 'Nigel' Martyn
278. ChumbaMuamba
279. Boy George Best
280. Will.I.an
281. The Alan Clarke 5
282. Claudio Duran DuRannieri
283. Robbie Savages
284. The Whu
285. Stanley Matthews Southern Comfort
286. The Wenger Boys
287. The Ting Ings
288. Kid Creole and Zicoconuts
289. Kevin Gallen Drunk
290. PlasMatic(s)
291. Muzzy Izzet Star
292. Platini Tempah
293. Ross Barkley James Harvest
294. Ruben Loftus-Cheeky Girls
295. Alvaro Moratohead

The original game as nicked by Danny Baker

Einsturzende Warren Barton in full effect! 

That there football... (Part 3)

And so, another World Cup has been and gone. Was it the best ever? No, most probably not. That honour still goes to Mexico 70. With Spain 82 & Germany 06 perhaps running them close. However, it was certainly enjoyable, with the prima donnas ousted early enough for new heroes to be welcomed and championed.

England's performance was encouraging enough, Brazil regained some composure after the horrors of the last tournament (despite Neymar's histrionics), Germany's departure made for a little more jeopardy in the latter stages, France glided to victory, Croatia gave everything but came up short, Spain's pre-comp suicide most probably did not have much impact and Ronaldo's vanity still irked enough to detract from his sublime technique. Cavani looked a much better player than I've previously given him credit for and Japan proved shrewd tacticians despite themselves.

There weren't any real downsides, the stadia looked great, the promised violence just didn't kick off and the hosts weren't the no hopers they had been portrayed as. As for Australia, the hype and hoopla back home was always going to be impossible to live up to. The notion that Australia were shoe-in's to escape their group showed a lack of perspective of the world game that will continue to limit the national team's progress in major tournaments. They are still Championship challengers in a Premiership world. The major problem in Australian football is highlighted at junior and club level, where physicality is praised over finesse. It is all very well promoting a Dutch footballing model and imposing 4-3-3 on junior sides but until coaches, clubs and committees recognise that the world of football is ever evolving, they will continually be 20 years behind the world game.

That there football... (Part 2)

Well, all good things etc...

The reality of the situation is that we were lucky to make it as far as we did. We aren't really one of the best four teams in the world. Gareth Southgate isn't quite the tactical genius he was 24 hours ago (not that I'm being critical, he completely surpassed most expectations - especially mine). And yet, the England team performed way above expectations and more importantly behaved impeccably. I know that might seem an odd thing to be so immensely proud of but...

It was about time that a group of obscenely highly paid sportsman fulfilled the other key part of the bargain, which is to be genuine role models and not just roll around on the floor models!

Thank you.

In the meantime though, it is worth remembering the following...

That there football...

Once every four years and it is time to... get the Panini album, pull the England shirt out from the box in the loft, ignore the fact that you've been slagging them off for the last 3 years and 11 months, become an expert on the current form of the Saudi keeper and become very conversant with random time zones and inhospitable waking hours.

But now the fun bit is over and we have to start to brace ourselves for the knockout stages and the anguish that 90/120 minutes +/- penalties can bring.

It is wonderful but also so agonising....