Hope I Die Before I Get Old......or should that be...... Meet The New Boss Same As As The Old Boss

Roger Daltry......you wanker!

Nothin' But The Same Old Story

Well back to the norm at Eastlands today. West Brom didn't have one shot on target and yet they manage to draw due to a Richard Dunne own goal. What can I say? We hammered 'em. Absolutely hammered 'em. Russell Hoult - The WBA keeper - had the game of his life and saved certain goals on at least 4 separate occasions. Once again though Mr Genius couldn't see that we weren't doing enough to kill the game and was oblivious to the concept of making some changes; perhaps bringing someone on who could hold the ball up and bring others into play. He is devoid of managerial nous. He was the same against Everton on Sunday. Wrong formation, wrong substitutions, wrong result.

Keegan has stated that he will not extend his contract after the end of next season. This essentially turns him into a lame duck. No board in its right mind would sanction any signings that could be sidelined by a new manager coming in in 18 months time. Mind you, given some of Kevin's purchases, no board in its right mind would give him any money anyway.

Southampton at home on Saturday - I can't remember when we last beat them on our own turf. After that Arsenal away. Ho hum.

---

Ah well Christmas over again than God. This year was OK really, my Mam and Dad eventually stayed quite late even though it was a bit of a chore for my Dad getting up the stairs to the toilet.

After the older ones had retired the kid's mates descended on us and caroused through the night. I ended up having a nasty-ish, drunken 'discussion' with a lad who is full of his own self-importance and believes he is a great frontman for his band - who no one has ever seen because they've never played a gig. His scorn for any other music but hip hop started me off and this was compounded by his denouncing of John Martyn (who was performing 'May You Never' on a DVD) as twee. To be honest my response was a bit over the top but I've never liked or trusted him ever since he stood outside our house at about 3am one Christmas Eve screaming abuse. The day after he denied it! He owned up a few days later. Prick! Anyway I rather uncharitably reminded him of this fact half way through our tête-à-tête. It just went downhill from there on. Then he left. Shame.

---

And then you wake up the day after and hear the terrible news from South East Asia and it puts petty little disagreements with disagreeable people into perspective. I still can't get my head round how the agencies that knew there had been a massive earthquake weren't able to warn the rest of global village though. That just beggars belief. "We didn't know who to phone" doesn't quite do it for me. How about you? I suspect that over the next few days, as the number of Western tourist deaths becomes known, the shit might hit the fan.

---

Hope you all had a good 'un and all the best for the New Year.

Us And Them

This is the furry alien now resident in our lives. We have a fortnight to decide whether we keep her or not. It was five years since our last dog shuffled and it's really hard getting used to the fact that there is a creature without standards once again living among us. So far she's eaten her bed, crapped and peed at inopportune moments and consistently ignored the most basic of commands.

Guide dog? My arse!

It's Just History Repeating....

What did I tell yer? Pissing down rain, newly acquired dog and me in close proximity as the ritual of the evening walkies reintroduces itself into our my busy schedule. I forgot the 'pooper scooper' as well so while she deposited a healthy half a pound in the gutter, I had to keep watch in case some over-zealous environmental defender should spot this misdemeanour and hail a Peeler. I know it was wrong - and I also know I could've been fined a hell of a lot of money - it's just that I forgot the scooper and I certainly wasn't about to pick it up and stick it in my pocket was I?

Sorry people of my home town. It won't happen again.

It did make me think though. What's worse for your health? Rogue dog shit or passive smoking?

---

My bloody car wouldn't start this morning. Flat battery just like Andy. This evening (before the faecal incident) I found a set of jump leads I thought I'd discarded years ago. Within minutes I had it ticking over. "I'll take it for a run down the motorway and get the battery charged up a bit" I thought to myself as I wiped the engine crap that ingrains every whorl in your fingers from my person. I then remembered that rather than fill the tank up last Friday (last time I used the car - just before the wedding) I figured I'd do it over the weekend sometime. I forgot. I put it down to this aging organ in my head.

So. It needs a run to charge the battery but I have barely enough fuel to reach the petrol station. It's also dark therefore lights are needed, and it's also raining. Doh!

What follows is one of those how-do-I-end-up-in-situations-like-this moments. Wonderin' whether the bloody car will start after you've filled it up. Visions of trying to push and steer it off the forecourt all on your own, 'cos you can guarantee none of the 4 x 4 owners will lift a finger to help.

It all worked out OK in the end though, it started first time and off we shot half way down the M60 and back. I guess I'll find out in the morning whether that was enough or whether a new battery is called for.

Motoring eh?

What a Difference a Day Makes......24 Little Hours...

Friday found the entire OccupiedCountry clan attending the wedding of one of the boy's bestest friends. A great day all round. I even enjoyed the church service and thought the vicar spoke a lot of sense until he mentioned some guy who lives in the sky and knows and sees everything there is to know and see.

Sadly what could have been a perfect day was frankly spoiled by the insistence of the Bride and Groom that the reception be held at Old Trafford - a football ground just outside Manchester.

In a break with tradition both Eldest and Youngest were 'joint best men'. Youngest was over the moon at the thoughts of quality time spent in the so-called 'Theatre of Dreams': Red to the core you see. But Eldest was distressed. As a season ticket holder at the City of Manchester Stadium where he sits next to his dad, he had to juggle with a profound paradox. How could he square his love for his best mate with putting hard earned money into the coffers of the 'World's Richest Football Club Corporate Brand'? As the Best Man's speech took shape the answer appeared.

Halfway through the speech, Eldest complained about being hot and sweaty. He let us all know that he needed to shed the heavy morning suit, waistcoat, tie and, indeed, shirt in order to cool off. I'll never forget the cheers that echoed round the Stretford Suite as he revealed the City shirt that he had been wearing under his wedding gear. An impromptu rendition of 'Blue Moon' raised the rafters as we realised that most of the Bride's family and friends were firmly of the blue persuasion.

Even the Reds had to agree - it was a perfect moment. Friendly banter - you can't beat it can you?

---

So that was Friday. Saturday saw most of Occupied Towers shuffling off to a party in deepest Prestwich. A and P are blessed with far too much disposable income and consequently every latest gadget can generally be tried out at theirs before it reaches the shops and stores of Manchester.

Most of these are shoved in a drawer or a cupboard after a few weeks but sometimes P digs one of them out for parties.

Saturday was Karaoke!

Eldest was still in post-speech mode and was knocking back the Kronenburg at a rate that would have the Labour Cabinet pointing and screaming "BINGE DRINKER". Eventually, for the first time in his life, the alcoholic levels reached that point where singing in front of total strangers seems perfectly reasonable.

At the wedding I had been heard to say "my boys..my God I'm proud of them. They look good, they've conducted themselves superbly and, between them they've helped the day be the unequivocal success that it is".

After hearing eldest on the Karaoke last night I was heard saying "I can't believe anyone with a voice a bad as that is a son of mine......"

We couldn't get the mike off him. He knew he was crap but, as he pointed out, that's what Karaoke is all about.

---

Well the new arrival appears tomorrow. We have to pick her up from Bolton Guide Dogs HQ. It's gonna be a culture shock having something with four legs in the abode again. It'll be a culture shock for me as well - I'll be another rung down the food chain as the dog's needs take precedence over mine. C'est la vie.

Big Wheels Turning......

A great evening at Manchester's big wheel on Friday, followed by the usual alcoholic shenanigans round the European markets in the squares of St Anne and Albert. Friday was Dearest's 50th birthday and we celebrated in style with selections of German, French, Spanish and even English food - all washed down with beers and wines from the Continent. The big wheel was in Birmingham last year I believe and was as much of a success there as it is here. It provides some great views of the city centre and - during daylight hours - the moors beyond. I might just nip down again and try it out during the day. £5 well spent I reckon.

Sadly the celebratory vibe did not transfer to Eastlands yesterday as, once again, Manchester City failed dismally to see off a very average Tottenham Hotspur. Quite simply we were crap. We go all through November losing only one match and then throw all the good work away with losses against average outfits like Middlesborough and Spurs. On top of that Anelka has indicated he wants away. Opinions such as that will always result in boos echoing round the stadium when the perpetrator takes the field and that's exactly what happened yesterday. Oddly a journalist from the Observer interpreted this as "By the time he finally came on, [he was] afforded a hero's welcome by the desperate City fans". God knows what match he was attending but from where I was sat boos emanated from every corner of the ground. It's time to piss off Nic.

Dearest had a phone call on Friday afternoon. It seems the Guide Dog people have finally found a perfect match in an 18 month old Retriever called...Zest. A bloody odd name for a dog I'm sure you'll agree so there has been some debate about whether we change it or not. Pest seems to me to be a reasonable alternative although Dearest is yet to be convinced. Jess might just be compromise but it also happens to be the name of Eldest's recently discarded Darlin's daughter. Anyway whatever it ends up being called it'll be arriving a week on Monday.

Christmas looks like being a bit flat this year, what with the aforementioned split between Eldest and his Darlin', Dad's various illnesses and other irritants I'm looking forward to it even less than usual. How did the entire thing suddenly become so IN YOUR FACE? One minute it still seemed to rooted in a ramshackle kind of 1950s approach to celebration, the next we've got houses burning enough electricity to power a small third-world country in order to outdo next door in the gaudiest, tackiest decoration competition. How did we allow ourselves to be so comprehensively hoodwinked into believing the hype?

Bah! And indeed, humbug!

The good news this week is that Youngest and his Darlin' have become engaged. It's about time really - after nine and a half years of coupledom and 3 years or so of living together. I just hope the act of tying up the legal loose ends doesn't create tensions that don't exist at present. I've seen it before, couples breeze along in cohabitation. The next thing they decide to legalise the situation and before long divorce is mentioned and it's all over.

I must try to stop looking on the downside of everything mustn't I?

Well must dash now and go and see my parents. My Dad will be sat there watching the History channel and rattling with the 30,000 separate pills he has to take each day to regulate his blood pressure, hemoglobin, diabetes and heaven knows what else. My Mam will be giving us all a running commentary on everything that enters her head and they'll both be bickering with each other. Thus the final years of a lifetime's marriage arrive.

I really must get round to reorganising all that stuff to the right. Blogroll, iPod latest and the rest. It's starting resemble one of those shop window displays that lie sun-faded and littered with dead flies untouched for years.

It'll just have to wait until I can be arsed though.

Oh Lonesome Me

Common sense injection anyone?

Jesus.......Debate my arse!

Sittin' On Top Of The World

"Ambition should never be constrained by a person's starting point in life," Charles Windsor 22/11/2004

He's right y'know. Just this very afternoon I sat my kids down and said: "kids, if you strive and strive and do the best that you can in every area of your life, then, one day, you too could become the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Edinburgh or even.....a King!"

At least I think they can.....it's just that I have a nagging feeling there's a flaw in my logic somewhere......

Ahhh that reminds me......somewhere. There's a place for us. Somewhere a place for us.........

Just how Charlie likes it.

Behind A Painted Smile

You know I love the BBC. I think it's one of the greatest things about this green and pleasant land of ours. Advert free (well apart from the ones advertising its own products), a broad range of programming from the cutting edge urban R&B of Radios 1 and 1 extra, through the Asian Network, 5Live, Radios 4,3 and 2 - as well as 6 and 7. TV-wise we now have BBC 3 and 4, along with CBBC and CBeebies. Quality, quality, quality! And all provided for an absolute weekly pittance.

All in all I love it. If I had to choose between the plethora of bombastic shite provided by the likes of Sky or the understated, thought-provoking magnificence of the Beeb there would be no contest.

What the BBC doesn't do well though is Children in Need. It is a God-awful marathon of second rate entertainment allied with blatant self-promotion of fading pop stars and advertising opportunities for businesses both big and small(ish).

This evening I had to watch Shane bloody Ritchie, Geri sodding Halliwell and Russell I'm-a-big-united-fan-who-used-to-go-to-every-game-but-can't-remember-where-I-used-to- sit-'cos-the-ground's-changed-that-much) Watson. I also noticed Bryan Adams on the list and a few others I've not heard of for at least ten years. In fact the only surprise for me was Jamie Cullum who I think has got a future and doesn't need his obligatory career resurrection just yet.

A middle-class, back-slapping 'aren't we great we're doing things for charity' embarras-o-rama. Gaby Rosslyn fer Christ's sake? And, of course, the old TogMeister himself: Terence Wogan.

Still at least it's over for another year along with Diwali and Eid which means we've only got Christmas left to interfere with our daily lives.

What multicultural times we live in.

Songs of Yesterday

I've seen the 'Band Aid 20' video/tune twice now. Prior to these viewings I had only heard a little snippet on a mono, crappy £20 radio in the kitchen. Bought to listen to 5Live and nowt else really. I had, however, read blogs that were castigating it right left and centre. 'There's no one with talent in it'. 'Is this the best we can do in the 21st century?'. 'It's shit'.

Well, no it's not shit. Different maybe, but not shit. A few listens now on decent equipment and my only gripe is that some of the vocals are so far back in the mix to render them almost inaudible to old buggers like me. Still, you can't stop progress. C'est la vie!

I hear condemnation of this latest rendition that complains of the lightweight artistes contributing. Hmmmmmm. I reckon that exactly the same condemnations were being hurled the way of Geldof's 'Band of Brothers and Sisters' of 1984. Paul Young anyone? Bananarama? Even Bono was a sallow youth with everything still to prove.

So, yeah, it's not MY cup of tea - but then again I was never that keen on the original. Furthermore it's not aimed at any of us old buggers who write Blogs wItHOut ChoPpy cHANgy tXt iN It. Leave the kids and their grandma's to buy it (or if you're feeling charitable buy a copy or two yourself), it's not for the likes of us so move along. There's nothing for you here - don't you know it's Christmas?

---

I'm up in my eyrie typing this on a Compaq Armada 7792DMT laptop - about 5 or 6 years old and still able to provide adequate graphics, sound and bloggage. I'm trying out Firefox on it to see how it interacts with Blogger. As I type I'm listening to the Byrds Greatest Hits...........I Think I'm Going Back.............

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Happy update. Lastminute.Com have finally - after much correspondence - agreed to allow 132 euros to wing their way back to Occupied Towers as a 'gesture of goodwill' for the crap hotel we endured during our trip to Barcelona.

Result!

Young, Gifted and Black

Can someone remind just what century this is? Because after watching England's embarrassing mauling by the Spaniards tonight I'm coming to the conclusion that I have been wafted back to a time of the Windrush, the colour bar and 'No Dogs, Irish or Blacks'. It was an absolute disgrace. Monkey noises every time a black English player got the ball: monkey noises? Can you believe it? 2004 and the poor buggers still have to put up with monkey noises.

I had a truly surreal moment when I realised that there was a kind of 'caste system' that dictated how much (or if any) booing they got. In short the blacker the louder. Rio Ferdinand, mixed parentage but erring more to the Caucasian = none. Ashley Cole, a sort of deep beige = quite a lot. Shaun Wright-Phillips, probably the blackest on the pitch = OOOH OOOH OOOH OOOH OOOH OOOH OOOH!!!!!!! Everytime he got anywhere near the ball.

Now I've heard reports of this going on in Eastern Europe when British teams play there, but I have never heard it picked up so clearly as it was this evening on the BBC. John Motson and Mark Lawrenson were lost for words half the time. There's only so much condemnation you can utter in situations like that. In the end all you can feel is contempt for the Spanish Chavs making the noises and an underlying suspicion that, once again, EUFA, FIFA and the rest of the junket-attending, be-suited, corpulent powers-that-be will do fuck all.

As the whole sorry mess unfolded before my eyes, I couldn't help but think how Ron Atkinson would have handled it if he had been commentating.

---

Dearest has assumed that 'it's almost Christmas therefore the house needs decorating, refurbishing, polishing and made-over'position. No matter what we discuss: Iraq, world peace, the life-cycle of the seventeen year locust or the suitability of Condoleesa Rice as a secretary of state, it all comes down to decor.

"I can't believe Bush believes he has 'electoral currency' and he's going to spend it!"

"The bedroom's old-fashioned, we'll have to spend money on it."

"How can a bedroom be old-fashioned? All we do is indulge in profoundly ecstatic sex sleep in the bloody place and occasionally read the papers, how can it be old-fashioned? Who the hell walks through it casting aspersions?"

"You really have no idea do you?"

"Errr yes. I have an idea that the money could be spent on something more useful - like electricity, gas or water. Food even. Or maybe drink!

"It's a mere two years since we last had the living room done. The bathroom's tiled from head to toe. Hall, stairs and landing - two years like the living room. The kitchen? A paltry three years. I will quite happily concede that this time next year the kitchen may (and I mean may) require redecorating. But, NOT NOW!!!!"

I really put my foot down.

The bedroom's being decorated this weekend. The new bed arrives the week after - along with the new carpet.

I suspect my sperm count took quite a knock over the past few days also.

The 21st century eh? It's a bitch ain't it? Time was you could arrive home from a hard day at the 'Office', read the paper and smoke your pipe while listening to the Home Service as 'the wife' rustled up a nutritious yet tasty evening meal. If you were asked permission to decorate, a thin-lipped reply would suffice, along the lines of: "I don't think so darling, that wallpaper was only hung the week after we married....`15 years I think. They said it would last a lifetime when we made our purchase. I expect to test that claim. Maybe after we're dead..........."

*sucks absent-mindedly on Meerschaum*

And that, would be that.

Relax....

It's OK everyone. Stop your worrying. Tony's just landed in the good ol' US of A to 'discuss' stuff with Dubya.

I just hope God's not busy dealing with some other crisis when they finally kneel together in the Oval Office.

It would look bad wouldn't it if George and Tone were praying like buggery for World Peace and God was tied up with a Brazilian footballer's on-pitch exhortations tp play well and win comprehensively.

---

So Long Yasser. The next few months will give us an indication of how the immediate future in the middle east is going to pan out.

Don't you just wish it was Kerry who was adjusting his short-term position to deal with the sensitive situations ahead.

I know I do. International incidents galore. That's all we've got to look forward to.

Freedom's Just Another Word....

Lest we forget some brave men and women - our grandparents - went through a hell of a lot to guarantee a future where dissidents and Dubya-lovers could voice their views without fear of a lack of Habeas Corpus, the thumbrack and/or electrodes to the genitalia. If it hadn't been for Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib I could've said we, in the West have come a long way. But there you go. You can't legislate for the Politics of Fear and Envy.

In the meantime let's not forget the sacrifice our forbears made, and let's not forget the sacrifices that are being made by young men and women right now. They are not to blame for the short-sighted, vainglorious, ego-driven posturing of here-today-gone-tomorrow politicians. And the sad thing is, when today's politicos are safely committing their memoirs to Micro$oft Word, The British Legion and its foreign counterparts will still be relying on charity to pick up the pieces of lives shattered by the lies and subterfuge of the odious, pontificating twats who grace public office these days.

My Grandad spent many terrifying hours on the beach of Dunkirk, the first couple of boats he managed to scramble onto didn't make it. He nearly drowned but was dragged into a third and spent the next couple of years convalescing from a chest crushed when some loose chandlery fell on him as they raced across the channel. The powers that be got him fit and ready for action again and, after a short while posted 'somewhere in England' he finally got to see active service again. June 1944 it was. A bit hairy an' all by all accounts.

We've always had an unlucky streak our family. But Dunkirk AND D-Day? That's just taking the piss. Luckily he survived and the British Legion - along with The Dunkirk Association - gave him a release from the mundane realities of the everyday and a probably much needed opportunity to talk to others who understood.

NB Use the Hyperlink in the text if you wish to donate, I can't get the animation to link through and I can't be arsed at the moment to figure out why. Lack of moral fibre you see - just like Dubya.

Nothin' To Lose

Derby day. We've not won at Trafford for thirty years. We have six first team players out and it looks like Keegan is going to play Robbie he-used-to-be-good-you-know Fowler. We're gonna get a wuppin'.

ADDENDUM 11:45pm.

0-0 After a full 90 minutes of Man United's hammering the City goal without luck. Shame but we now know why they are struggling. Quote:-

The Man Utd boss also hinted that his players are finding it difficult to motivate themselves for domestic football.

Ferguson said: "Maybe it's the big game factor, and the mundane challenge of the Premiership might not be the same."

Hey Sir Alex, you're nowhere near qualifying for next year's Chump's League yet. The number of chances your team created, only to be foiled by the kids of City's Academy, along with Sky's MOTM Richard Dunne and Silvain Distin, beggared belief. How much has Man United spent on that 'strike' force?

Yatesy - you have got to get rid of Alex. He's gone mad.

Madman Across The Water

Well, there you go. Even my predicted legal challenge hasn't stopped Dubya winning not only the electoral college but the popular vote as well. As long as my arse points south I'll never fathom the intellect of half of the American populace. A man who patently has difficulty grasping the idea that other points of view might - just might - have some validity. A man who by his own admission uses biblical tracts to form policy. A man who thinks (like Tony Blair) that the world was created in six days by some Big Guy who lives in the sky. A man who probably thinks he is the Big Guy's representative here on earth.

I'll never understand the over-reliance on God, the constant references to him during what should be rational debate on the relevant issues of the day. God wants you to vote for Bush. God hates gays. God hates pro-choicers. God loves The Rifle Association and the Gun Lobby. God ain't keen on pinko, pansy-loving, do-gooding East coast liberals. God ain't happy about parts of the Constitution. God's a Good Ol' Boy, a staunch Republican Redneck. God blesses America time and time and time again.

And the rest of us stare with a mixture of distaste, pity and fear. What will the next four years bring? What do you think George will want to do with his new mandate? Bring the nation together? Compromise with abortionists? Discuss the way forward with Gays and Lesbians? Tax the super-rich to provide welfare for the significant number who fall through the net? Accept that other people have views that are valid regardless of the fact that they don't fit in with viewpoint of the New American Century? Admit that, on occasions mistakes have been made? Give juicy Federal contracts to companies with the best Tender rather than Halliburton?

I don't think so. Do you?

---

The winds of 'more of the same' will have quite an effect over here as well. Tony will struggle more and more as 'our boys' come under increasing attack in Iraq. The place has become a magnet for Radical Islam. Any accounts you read of the place describe a lawless place with a few besieged cities dotted around. The Black Watch convoy traveling up the main road from Basra to Baghdad is testament to this. Attacked at least twice in a land where the mission has been accomplished.

Wouldn't have happened under Saddam.

And many observers believe Iran's next! I'd like to hear Tony justifying that little jaunt.

I think a combination of Bush-endorsement and deep unpopularity might just tip the scales in favour of Brown making his move. Whether he does this before or after the election I don't know. Perhaps Tony's heart problem will fortuitously raise its head again. Who knows?

It's a good job the Tories are in such a mess.

---

Looks a few more scapegoats have been crushed as they oiled the wheels of industry. Claims of false accounting involving a multinational company? Sounds familiar don't it? Hope the pension fund's OK.

I'm A Loser

Barcelona

So there I am watching Chelski v Abromovich's other team when I over hear Dearest on the phone to either Eldest or Youngest or one of their Darlin's:

"Yeah he was trying to replace the bulb in it and broke the bloody thing. You can have it if you want."

Dearest was referring to the cheapo, crap uplighters she bought about two years ago from some upmarket emporium like Argos. For some God-forsaken reason (and probably the reason they were so 'competitively priced') they had halogen bulbs in them. Recently one of the bulbs went and Dearest started 'hinting' that I get it replaced.

Now the corner shop doesn't sell halogen light bulbs - I mean why should it? So I said I'd pick one up at the weekend and sort it.

Come the weekend I start to take the old bulb out in order to purchase the correct replacement and it soon becomes evident just what a pile of risible crap I am dealing with. The ceramic bed in which the bulb sits crumbles to dust at my touch.

"It's a worthless piece of crap that should be binned right now" I expertly concluded. "That's why it had halogen bulbs in it - it had a lifetime of one bulb".

So we bought new (and that was a traumatic shopping-fest in its own right believe me). They were expensive but well made and we had to order the buggers - but at least they use normal bulbs that they sell in the corner shop.

So tonight they arrive and I assembled and installed them, thus triggering the aforementioned telephone call.

I was pissed off - to say the least - that the shoddiness of the bloody thing should suddenly become my fault. I was also mightily peeved that Dearest has listened to me telling her (and offering to show her) just how crap the thing was, whilst all the while thinking I had broken it and was just making excuses!

I can't help but think though that my reaction to this 'slur' is a little over-the-top. But it is really annoying me.

Reality doesn't matter y'know. It's perception that counts.

---

I see Arsenal nearly threw it all away again in the Chump's League. It seems to me that there is a massive mental block about Europe for the Gunners that Arsene is going to have some trouble overcoming. It's hard to believe that a team with so much talent and such strength in depth can become such shadows of their normal selves. For long periods tonight Panathinaikos looked like the home team. Arsenal sat deep and, as time went by, the Greeks looked more and more like nicking it. The very idea of Arsenal at Highbury should be making teams quake in their boots.

Perception doesn't matter y'know. It's reality that counts.

---

As for the election: well apparently it has now become too close to call. Occupiedcountry's not afraid of predictions though, and here it is:

There will be legal challenges before the sun sets on Wednesday.

God bless America.

Kid Charlemagne

Whew what a night. Dearest and I along with Eldest and his Darlin' and N and T took ourselves along to The Witchwood to see Steely Dan tribute band Nearly Dan. Sheer bloody magic it was. The place was packed with folk about my age listening to almost note perfect renditions from Steely's back catalogue. 'Do It Again', 'Reelin' In The Years', 'Aja', 'Peg', 'Babylon Sisters'. Heaven for an old timer like me and my ilk. In fact one bloke near me was so impressed he kept shouting "clever bastards" after every number. If they're ever in your area...etc...etc

This of course has resulted in a new iPod playlist featuring the real thing. What a fabulous way to spend a pre-drinkypoos Sunday afternoon especially now the nights are drawing in.

A great day yesterday. But then again it always is when United get beat. I guess last weeks defeat of Arsenal didn't kick-start their season after all.

---

I've often wondered just what the point of a remake is. Hollywood-wise that is. The recent offering with Jude Law as Alfie was friggin' pointless as far as I can tell and a good example. Rehashed and inevitably transferred to the good ol' US of A, it has become a sanitised pile of crap - just like most other remakes. You would think someone in Filmworld would have sussed this out and put a stop to vast amounts of money being wasted. But apparently not. From Psycho to The Italian Job the dollars keep getting spent.

And now we have the worst ever remakes as voted by the discerning British public. Sylvester Stallone's Get Carter tops the list but the usual suspects are also there. Planet Of The Apes, Ocean's 11, King Kong. "Time after time, remakes fail to sparkle like the originals," said Alex Chesterman, founder of ScreenSelect.co.uk. "This poll is an indication that remakes can't compare with films which were classics of their time." So why oh why do they keep making the buggers then?

---

Well it looks like George is going to be extending his stay at The White House for another four years. And now his old mate Mr Laden has reappeared to give his campaign a kick up the arse by reminding the waverers that politics is black and white and the bogeyman must be defeated. Four more years of pro-creationism. Four more years of treating the Bible like a manifesto for the 21st century. Four more years of lining Halliburton's pockets. Four more years of gung ho foreign policy. Four more years of fiscal incompetance. Four more years of disdain for the opinions of anyone else but America. Four more fuckin' years.

There's one policy I hope he will adopt. A policy that was all the rage back in the 30s I'm told. Isolationism.

I'm not holding my breath though.

World On A String

So 60,000 ballot papers have gone missing in Florida of all places. I can't quite believe that lightning is going to strike twice after the debacle of the 2000 election. I mean it's a friggin' disgrace isn't it? And sadly it's not the only instance of murky shenanigans surfacing as the day approaches. Perhaps the time has come to send independant observers over - French, Spanish, Irish for example. Y'know people with integrity and principles - to make sure that the election for President in the World's foremost democracy takes place in a free and fair manner.

When you swan round the world flexing your muscles in the name of introducing democracy here, there and everywhere, it makes sense to make sure your own version of it is waterproof.

I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

Well. This is a turn up for the books isn't it? What a shame. Here's the Government intent on opening up the political process and blasting apart the incestuous underbelly of the corridors of power, only to find that most of the documents relevant to the recent history of the good ol' UK (ie the 1980s) are contaminated with asbestos.

I bet there's Sir Humphrey types all over Whitehall rushing to find asbestos they can sprinkle over the governmental documents of the past five years or so.

"Look, look at this: it's rife with asbestos - look at all the white asbestos powder on this file detailing discussions between PM and GWB from 2000 to present. It needs to quarantined for at least a century."

"I'm sorry Sir Humphrey but initial investigations indicate that the substance is actually baking powder......."

"Are you sure...there could be a Knighthood in this you know?"

I'm sure there are at least one or two historians or political scientists out there prepared to sacrifice their personal wellbeing in the search for the truth. I'm sure they would even sign wavers absolving the powers that be of any responsibility whatsoever. Anything to allow them to dig and delve into the primary evidence of the recent past.

And yet we all know that won't happen. Just like we all know that there's no asbestos been within 200 miles of the aforementioned documentation.

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After listening to City go two down yesterday, I set off to the local to watch United and Arsenal. The local though was crowded so, Dearest and I set off for our Friday night pub and had a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon (apart from the result[s]).

How can my team score more goals in 45 minutes of one match WITHOUT Anelka than we have over the same period of time all season? A strike force of Fowler and Wright-Phillips and suddenly a Premiership top six side can't handle us. Strange.

Stranger still is the 'groin injury' to our only Muslim player as Ramadan begins. He's hardly ever injured is Anelka. In fact the last time he was injured and had to go off, we were 3-0 down to Spurs at half time in the Cup. Joey Barton got sent off for arguing and, just after the restart we lost Anelka to injury.

With 10 men we scored 4 goals in 45 minutes to confound the pundits who had us down and out.

Perhaps that groin needs a few kicks in training.......

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Well I was right in my prediction about the 'game of the millennium' yesterday. I had a feeling United would nick it - and that was before I realised the ref was Mike (I'd better give Utd a Penalty I'm at Old Trafford) Riley.

Arsenal are a set of moaning main-chancers who try every dirty trick in the book to win. I should know, I watched 'em a couple of weeks ago as they struggled to beat the Mighty Blues. Lehmann in particular I detest. He's a mard tart who deserves every mistake he makes. Sorry Alan.

And as for United? Van Nistelrooy, you are one dirty, cheating bastard. I remember watching your histrionic diving at Maine Road during the last ever Derby there. That tackle on Cole was a disgrace. It'll be interesting to see what the Video Panel make of it over the next few days. Personally I think he should be banned for a few games. It was a nasty tackle that could've broke Cole's leg.

Still, at least you won didn't you? A fellow professional's leg must be worth that anyday. Sorry Andy.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

I must confess there's some hyperbole spouted about this affy's United v Arsenal match. 'Game of the season', 'Premiership decider' and even 'Game of the decade'. I bet Andy and Alan are on tenterhooks waiting for the kick off. Youngest the traitor has gone to Old Trafford with a realistic outlook on the outcome. As far as he's concerned win, lose or draw United are not the team they were and Ferguson is certainly not the manager he was.

When were we last allowed a glimpse of Fergie admitting he was wrong? But suddenly there he is trying to justify some of his weird signings (Bellion fer Christ's sake) by confessing he has been picking the wrong team. Hmmmmmm Djemba-Djemba? Kleberson? Miller? Ricardo? Howard? Etc etc. When he does buy quality (Rooney, Smith, Saha) e plays them all over the shop. Last week against Birmingham he played Saha and later Rooney on the left wing. By the latter stages of the match he was that desperate to score he had Van Nistelrooy, Rooney, Saha, Smith, Ronanldo and Scholes all on the pitch at the same time. An embarrassment of riches?

Wenger on the other hand - when he does dive into the transfer market - tends to snap up players with no previous reputation who then become integral parts of the Arsenal team. I can only point to his purchase of Francis Jeffers as a recent mistake.

Having said that I've got a feeling the 50 premier games unbeaten record won't be reached. I reckon United are going to defy the form books and pull something out of the pan. We'll see. I'm off to the pub to cheer on Arsenal and wind up the local armchair fans who've 'supported-the Reds-all-their-lives-and-have-the-replica-shirts-and-United-duvet-covers-to-prove-it'.

With a bit of luck City might get something from Newcastle as well.

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Dearest has proclaimed a need for something to talk to and stroke during the long winter evenings.

"You could always stroke me" I replied with a salacious undercurrent.

No dice. It was a precursor to the periodic 'I want a dog' debate that, in the past I have been able to win via references to dog shit on the carpet, walkies in the pissing down rain, odd smells, stolen food and embarrassing crotch incidents.

But this time she'd done some research and all my well-rehearsed arguments dissipated like mist from the morning sun. It's a well-trained guide dog for the blind she wants. One of those that doesn't quite make the grade when it comes to stopping their charges from walking in front of juggernauts, but are well able to control their bladders and bowels to the extent that you can tell them when and where they go for crap.

"Great", I said, "I'll tell it to do it in next door's garden - result!"

So the bottom line is: Dearest applied for one of these outcasts and has passed the stringent home visit/interview. We are on the list and the new arrival could turn up next week, next year or the next decade. We have to be 'matched' with our perfect companion you see.

So that'll be me taking it walkies in the pissing down rain then. Ah well.