I kind of ‘grew up’ with Cliff Richard. He was there when I first started appreciating music beyond ‘the wheels on the bus’ but before ‘careful with that axe, Eugene’. I really liked The Shadows, his backing band who were always much better in his absence. He was hailed as ‘the English Elvis!’ but he – Read More-
So after a year in Los Angeles, it just seemed to be coming to an end. Not that I wasn’t loving it there but it just seemed to be ‘a sign’ as our merry band of players started to dissipate. Then I heard on the radio (we listened to that in 1982) an advert for – Read More-
another Monday another Trump meeting with a disgrace figure world leader. We’ve done Kim, yesterday it was Poot’n. Next week maybe Assad? Erdogan? Maybe Macron. But ‘its good to talk’. So we’re told. Though it depends indeed what is said. Trump’s one-on-one with Poot’n went, according to Donald, ‘very well. Very well indeed’. Because? We – Read More-
So what am I supposed to do now? There’s no more tennis, the World Cup is over (in case you missed that) and the new football season doesn’t start for almost 4 weeks!! The European Championships are 2 years away and the next World Cup not for 4… and a half, because they have to – Read More-
I’m opposed to movie sequels. Politically. Ok, there are exceptions, otherwise life would be dull and I thrive on hypocrisy. The ONLY acceptable sequels are Kill Bill 2, because it really wasn’t a sequel, Godfather 2, because it was such a magnificent movie and in a way all 4 parts were just a serialised version – Read More-
Ok, so now the football’s suddenly gone all non-English and non-interesting, the Wimbledon that I had horribly, cruelly, with such fickle callousness, disregarded, has once again come back into my life with a vengeance. With a rush. With just 5 hours of Nadal (who I love dearly) and Djokovich (who I don’t really) playing the – Read More-
Trump’s here. But not for long. He’s off to see Pooot’n in a day or two so is here just long enough to upset Theresa May, probably grab the Queen’s ass and tell a few nob jokes to some hoi-poloi. Oh, and do some ‘deals’. He loves a deal. But only if its a ‘good – Read More-
Its over. The dream. Its not coming home. They are instead. After they play Belgium in the most unmotivating match that can ever be played; the ‘losers final’. Or ‘3rd/4th place playoff’ to give its silly and overly descriptive formal title. Especially as no-one ever gives a shit who came either 3rd or 4th, even – Read More-
France are in the World Cup final. The country everyone hates, along with all the others, has made it. Beat Belgium’s ‘golden generation’ in quite a thrilling but not very exciting match. Which left all that ‘gold’ somewhat tarnished. Again. And tonight its our turn. Against them Croats. Our destiny. And every time I hear – Read More-
Ok, forget yoga and tai chi guaranteeing that you live forever with the body of a Greek God and the brain of Einstein. It don’t work. Not today, apparently. No matter how many ‘warrior’ poses you perform, how long you spend in ‘downward dog’, you’re gonna be a fat bastard but without the wherewithal to – Read More-