Andy's Glasses

Manchester City? Phah!
Liverpool?? Just fuck off!!!
Arsenal??? You’re joking, right??
Chelsea? I don’t think so.

The stock in those four clubs took a massive nose-dive yesterday as ‘serial winner’ and ‘best manager in all the world’, Antonio Conte, took the reins at (previously) hopeless Spurs. Because under Antonio’s stern, disciplined approach which is rich in tactical understanding and creativity, Spurs are going to win the league. Like; this year. For everyone else: its over. When Spurs march out on Sunday at Goodison Park, they will look nothing like the hapless band of losers who dragged themselves, stooped and limping, off the stadium of Tottenhamness last Saturday. This will be Spurs Nouveau. Spurs Re-du. This will be… SUPERSPURS!!! Because teams under Conte are WINNERS!!! He is a WINNER!. And so it is written…

In all the press. Whom this week I’ve managed to extend my normal ‘total contempt and ridicule’ beyond its norm. Because on Saturday I read a massive, double-page article the headline of which read: ‘WHY CONTE IS SUCH A PERFECT FIT FOR MANCHESTER UNITED’. But unfortunately for the press, and for Spurs, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer’s team won, rendering the headline redundant for at least another week. And now they’re frantically re-writing it as ‘WHY CONTE IS SUCH A PERFECT FIT FOR SPURS’. Just scrub out ‘underperforming, miserable Pogba’ and replace it with ‘Kane’… near useless Maguire, with any Spurs defender really, and you have your article.

Hyperbole aside though, Conte does win things. Ok, he’s never met such a trophyphobic team as mine before, but he went to mediocre Juventus and turned them into immediate and serial winners. He did the same at Chelsea and again at Inter Milan. He comes, he wins, he goes. Let’s hope he’s sufficiently ‘here’ to get to the winning bit before the ‘goes’ kicks in. Spurs managers aren’t generally given unlimited time. If any. Ask Nuno.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

So whilst me and Greta Thunberg are out test driving electric cars (VW ID3 was yesterday’s contender) setting our own gold standard for ‘zero emissions by 2022, the world’s collective leaders and other fuckwits were gathering in Glasgow for the ‘crisis conference!!!’ on the climate.

Fuckwits? Oh yeah. For who else but Joe Biden would so completely lack the sense of irony to turn up at an event specifically about reducing the world’s carbon in a fleet of jets, followed by a procession of (I lost count whilst watching it on the news) of about 15 immense, high-powered, 15-ton, bullet-proof, bomb-resistant, 2.5mpg SUVs filled with his ‘security’? Does he not know that Scotland has 3 bobbies on the beat to ensure his safety? Ok, one’s really fat, the other 2 have drink and drug issues and none have a gun, but still! It’s moronic. It sends the wrong message (1 rule for you, different one for us). It’s ‘making an entrance’, which really is not the point of COP26. And its like John Wayne storming into town in full True Grit mode for peace talks. Fill yer hands ya sunnovabitch.

The other 200-odd leaders arrived in private jets (the devil’s mode of transport), followed by hundreds of cars, none of which was even a fucking hybrid.

However it was all worth it once the meetings started. And the speeches were… well, spoken. First the Queen. She told those fuckers what we need. Then Sir David Attenborough basically repeated it. And then up strode Boris. Who said, kind’a the same thing. Which is: we’re in deep shit, speaking as a planet. Which Boris actually looks like. And we need to do… things of a very unspecified nature which we’ll lump together under the banner headline ‘reduce carbon’. Shoot coal. Throw away your diamonds. Ban Firework Night. No more barbecues.

I didn’t hear one proper ‘plan’. Just a lot of ‘throw a bunch’a money at the problem and then I’ll be dead and it’ll be someone else’s problem’. And lots of talk about ‘offsetting’ which is the wonderful loophole they’ve created to allow tossers like Biden to emit a year’s worth of CO2 just arriving in Glasgow.

So, along with the kids, I want to know how this is going to work. The sound bytes spouted in 73 different languages will not do anything. Especially when spouted in French.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

What a big day for ‘upsets’ in the Premier League yesterday! All the ‘big clubs’, except Chelsea, received big surprises with Liverpool held at home to a draw by Brighton, Manchester City LOSING at home, goal-less-ly, to Crystal Palace and, of course, Spurs being thrashed, again at home, by sad and sorry Manchester United. It could have been the single day which caused irreparable dents in the aspirations of Liverpool and Manchester City to win the league, and of Spurs to retain next years place in the European no-hope League for those not good enough to play in a proper tournament with Forriners.

Black Saturday. The day before Hallowe’en. Oooohhhh, spooky.

Chelsea romped on, as per fucking usual, but they only had to play Newcastle who, despite their new-found billions, remain only out-worst-ed by ever reliable Norwich. The Chelsea fans were apparently singing “no noise, from the Saudi boys”, which coming from a bunch of Russian money-launderers was perhaps a bit… rich? Even more ironic was that Newcastle have chosen to wear ‘rainbow bootlaces’ in solidarity with LGBTQ… etc, people. The team now owned by a nation in which homosexuality carries a death penalty. (Shagging camels carries an exemption from this, as long as they are opposite sex camels).

And so to the team I support. Follow. Love to the souls of my size 9s. And hate, in equal measures. If last night’s performance was not the most ineffectual, depressing, lacklustre, pathetic, clueless, hopeless, shambolic display ever seen in professional sport, I’d hate to be present for the one that beats it. I wasn’t present last night but instead chose my tv as my means of torture. Spurs were so bad we made Manchester United look good. Worse still, we made Gary Neville very happy. But I’m really not convinced that booing Harry Kane is either a decent nor productive action, even in the circumstances. Those circumstances being that he had a terrible day at the office. As he consistently has since the ‘transfer-gate’ scandal in the summer. For better or worse, he is still a Spurs player and as such WE FUCKING NEED HIM. Need him to feel better, need him to score, to create, to be the best Harry Kane possible, the one we’ve been drooling over for the last 5 years. Making him feel unloved in his own home is not the way to get him back. Even if it is only for the remainder of the season.

I’m off now to have the tattoo I’ve been thinking about for 53 years. It’s time. It reads:
SOMETHING’S NOT WORKING. AGAIN.

Happy shitty, rainy, tumbling down the league Sunday

A xxxx

Mark Zuckerberg, in an uncharacteristically modest gesture, has re-branded his web-site (which, like Voldemort, must not be named) and from now on will be known as The Hate-Peddling Site for the Promotion of Eating Disorders, Fake News, Juvenile Suicides and Body Dysmorphia, whilst making Me the RICHEST FUCKER ON THE PLANET. Dot com. Quite catchy. Make sure you don’t make a typo when you first enter it online. But there’s no need to worry. Its still the same ‘underneath’. You can still bully, cajole, groom, blackmail, threaten and upset in the just the same ways as before.

In fact the abbreviated name is META. Which is Greek word meaning ‘TOSSER’. Ok, I made that up out of spite and contempt, because in reality Zuckerberg named his site after the 5th meta-tarsal which both David Beckham and Wayne Rooney broke during their careers. And it sounds much better than ‘HAMSTRING’, the second choice.

But actually, ‘meta’ is a prefix. Not usually used alone. And it signifies ‘over and beyond’, it means something so over-riding that it becomes self-referential, so vast that it is beyond limits, beyond fucking everything except making shit-loads of cash at everyone else’s expense and then not paying any tax on it. That kind’a thing. ‘Big’ is the message. To let us know not how massively vast and immense the ’empire’ now is, but how big, how vast, how far-reaching and all-encompassing its going to be.

Because to be that successful that young, so able to see what is wanted, needed, what might make things easier, quicker, to have that foresight and ability, you need to be a megalomaniac. And, like Elon Musk, like Jeff Bezos, Zuckerberg probably realises that he’s never going to win a beauty contest or a popularity competition, and he, in all likelihood, from behind all those billions, probably don’t give a shit. He controls the world. And the money, at that level, is irrelevant in itself, but massive in its representation of ‘how powerful I am’. ‘Billions’ is the new penis measure for tech giants. Whatever you choose to call them.

Happy Saturday

Kevin xxxx

Whilst we’re in climate mode, I wish to continue that theme with a look at others jumping on the climate bandwagon. And in fact its very easy to work out who might be doing that. It’s a simple equation.

Start at ‘smug’. Add the square root of ‘holier than thou’, divide by the number of carbons you’ve personally emitted over the preceding 24 hours, multiply by ‘evangelical’ and subtract all the meat you’ve eaten ever. And the answer should come out as ‘vegan’.

They’re having a protest about how the world must change its meat-eating ways, but here’s the key line, ‘for the sake of the environment’. Ahhhhh, environment, climate, right. Not just ‘any excuse to try and take the STEAK FROM MY MOUTH!!!, but doing so to save the planet. That’s ok then.

Meat is undoubtedly costly, in terms of environmental impact. And Vegans don’t eat in McDonalds! Who knew that? Not like its ‘real’ meat, surely? Anyway, apparently there is some beef in a Big Mac and as the world eats 47 billion of ‘em a day, that adds up to a cow or two. And cows need grass. More grass, in fact, than there is grass in the whole world. So they needed to make more. Which is why they cut down half of Brazil, the bit with all the trees on, to make grazing land for cattle. And that creates a double whammy. Firstly we’ve lost a highly significant number of our planet’s entire tree collection, and trees absorb carbon. Well, they did before they cut them down. The second issue is farting. If you ate nothing but grass all day and half the night, you’d probably fart too. But cows elevate the art into (quite literally, I’m sad to say) stratospheric levels of flatulence.

The gas that we, and cows, emit is methane. One of the dreaded ‘greenhouse gases’. And cows are the biggest ‘producers’ of methane on Earth.

So it is a problem, I grant you that. A problem I was aware of and was quite prepared to take very seriously (whatever the fuck that means). Until the vegans got involved. Then it became so much hot air. From a different orifice.

As my friend would say: I really like Vegans. But I’ve never eaten a whole one.

Happy carbon-free and meat (fish, eggs, milk…) free Thursday

A xxxx

I’m preparing for COP26. It’s the climate conference in Glasgow, next week. Even though it sounds like a neo-nazi organisation. Which perhaps is nearer to the truth by accident, as Climateers (as I’ll call them just to spare saying ‘climate change obsessives’ all the time) are generally the most nasty, intolerant, dogmatic, undemocratic bunch around. You agree with them ENTIRELY or YOU ARE WRONG AND DESTROYING THE PLANET!!!!! No middle ground, no need for debate, no wiggle room whatsoever. The Attenborough-Thunbergs run a tight ship. And their devoted followers misspelt the word ‘adherent’ and instead used ‘adhesive’ to glue their sorry backsides to the M25. Which was abhorrent. Misspell that ya tossers.

David Attenborough himself (blessed be He; the love-child of Jesus Christ, Queen Victoria and Charles Darwin) pre-empted the meeting by saying how we must ‘act TODAY, tomorrow is too late’ to save the planet. Greta Thunberg is on her way. By bicycle.

And its not like I’m not almost the ultimate eco-warrior. I’m sympathetic to the cause. I recycle my waste! (Otherwise Barnet council charge me a thousand quid which would otherwise be spent on petrol. At current price rises, that’s about 27 gallons worth.) I married a ‘bag for life’, let alone carry one. I turn the thermostat down on the heating. Not just to antagonise Mel.

But let’s just get a little logical. The ‘Industrial Revolution’ started in the early 18th century. Mainly when they replaced burning wood and charcoal with burning coal, and later coke, which was easier, hotter and better for producing iron and glass. Which led on to making proper machinery for factories and farms. Which led to steam engines, allowing faster transport, so goods could be moved around to other factories. Which could use those machines to make other machines.

It’s not so much a ‘revolution’ as an ‘evolution’. Because the machines beget better machines as accuracy and reproducibility improve. And you follow this right along until the nuclear age, in the mid 20th century, and onwards to computers about 60 years ago.

And if we didn’t have computers we would not be aware of the damage all of the above has done to the planet.

So its fine for Sir David to say ‘this is all our fault’ because the great man is making the fatal error of effectively judging the past in present day terms. Unless he’s saying that we must return to a more cave living, self-sufficiency, get rid of ALL technology mode of life.

We wouldn’t be ‘here’ today, watching him on tv, flying to Glasgow, calculating carbon levels, without the industrial revolution which was the cause of the entire problem. And it took us 400 years to arrive ‘here’. Undoing it may take a little more than we could possibly achieve ‘today’.

Happy Zero Emission Wednesday

Greta xxxx

The good thing about football (when your team is SHITE! and causes mental health issues and induces vomiting) is that when it all goes wrong, you can spend your days just slagging off other people’s teams. And its called ‘constructive criticism’ and its not only allowed but they let the ‘professional pundits’ do it, professionally, and… errrr…punditly, and no-one gets pissed off.

And the whipping boys of the week are Manchester United. The team we all love a bit and love to hate another bit. A bigger bit. Because of their horrible sense of entitlement. Of their unrealistic expectations. Their horrible owners and, let’s be frank; their useless manager.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved Ole Gunnar Solskjaer as a player. He was the first ‘supersub’ worthy of the name and remains the best there’s ever been. He came on and scored the winning goal in a Champions League final, FFS, you can’t more ‘super’ than that. Yet, as virtually always (Glenn Hoddle the noted exception) ‘fans’ favourites’ make useless managers. Like when Shearer went to manage Newcastle. Like a returning hero, like the God he is in those parts. Yet found that the unarguable gift he had for scoring goals was not part of the skill set required to manage a club. Which he couldn’t, didn’t and failed miserably.

Ole has done ok. At times. Then loaded up this summer with a few extra superstars. Like Ronaldo. The super-est superstar of them all. Like Jaydon Sancho, the up-and-coming superstar. And Donny Van der Beek. A Dutchman. Well with those names added to the already star-studded list, what could possibly go wrong?

To lose at home hurts. To lose at home to your bitterest rivals really hurts. To basically not even turn up for the match, get totally demolished, lose by an embarrassing score line and have last year’s superstar sent off after 14 minutes on the pitch, well that’s just… just…

Just awful. At which point the fans, as well as the owners, have to think: ‘what the f….??’

And logically, it can only really come down to the manager. He has an orchestra of prodigious talent but failed to conduct it. I don’t think the players are without blame, they were terrible on Sunday, lazy, careless and negligent. But they would never have played like that under Alex Ferguson. They wouldn’t have dared.

I’m quite amazed that Ole is still (at the time of writing) in his job. Although part of me hopes he retains it. At least until Saturday, when United play Spurs. And we need all the help we can get.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

Taking the knee is a bit like Covid. Everyone’s bored with it but its still very valid and exceptionally serious. But there are many people opposed to it. NOT racists. Some are black people, who just feel it is inappropriate or a wasted symbolic gesture or many other reasons that they are allowed to hold dear. Some even boo the gesture. Which, personally speaking, is a bit strong, mainly because however decent, valid and ‘woke’ your reasons for booing are, you will just be seen as a racist for doing so. A football fan with really genuine, decent reasons was banned at Crystal Palace for such booing. And then later un-banned when they realised that, like taking the knee, booing is merely freedom of speech. Albeit not a very eloquent speech.

And so, back to Crystal Palace, that hot-bed of political anarchy and rebellious insurgency, yesterday. Where those sorry Eagles played Newcastle, the team so recently bolstered by massive Saudi investment, to the combined shocked morality (about 3%) and excessive jealousy (97%) of the other 19 clubs in the division. And some Palace fans flew a banner. It was ‘proper’, not just scribbled on toilet roll. It was clever and it was funny. And it was about Saudi Arabia, the state generally, and Mohammed Bin Salman specifically.

It was not in any way ‘racist’. It said nothing about Saudi people. It made no stereotype tropes, it didn’t call anyone a ‘towel head’. Mainly because the Geordie fans have taken to wearing tea-towels on their heads in a show of (bit misplaced) solidarity and support for their new board members. Which is a bit like Spurs fans calling themselves ‘the Yids’ and causes many blood-vessels to burst because you can’t really be called a ‘racist’ if you’re showing love and support for any group and so people just don’t know what to do about it.

So the poster went up, it shows MBS with a bloody scimitar. It attacks the Saudi nation for its human rights atrocities and brutality. Things which, I’m sure, were completely off most Palace fans’ radars until 10 days ago when Saudi Arabia entered the collective consciousness of all football fans. But if so, even if this is just a ‘let’s find a way to wind up a few Geordies’ kind of deal, they’re allowed. Yet for this, the police are investigating? Like, really? The Saudi police maybe, they don’t need any kind of ‘legal framework’ behind their actions, as they constantly prove. But OUR police? Those defending free speech of online numpty trollers, and other hard lefties? And this is racism?

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

Looking for new cars is much better fun than owning new cars, buying new cars, selling… errrr… not quite so new cars. It’s great. Particularly as we swim around aimlessly in the growing pool which is the ‘electric car world’. You learn as you progress. It’s a curve. And this is what we’ve learned today:

Volvo DO in fact make a fully electric car, just the one, but oddly, it is the model Mel likes. Cos its small. And chunky. Just like she… likes them to be. Test driving next weekend.

We learned that the Lexus fully electric, (again, there’s only one from Toyota’s snooty older brother), is quite cute, quite expensive and fast as fuck. I’d never driven an electric car before, other than on a Scalectrix track, and this one was faster. Due to covid regulations (bless ‘em) the salesman can’t accompany you on your drive. How we missed him. So Mel tested out the brakes and I tested out the accelerator. Which worked very very well indeed. I would describe the experience as ‘wonderful’, Mel’s chosen adjective would probably be ‘DANGEROUS!!!’

But you also get to learn about car dealerships, showrooms and staff. And generally, the more pricey the car, the nicer the showroom. So Lexus was vast, airy, clean and smelt of the coffee machine. I stole biscuits. Mel took water. Typical electric car driver. The Volvo showroom was big and posh. The Toyota one was like a workingman’s cafe but scaled up a bit. And the staff weren’t very helpful. The Mercedes place we went to last week was the worst of all for service (lack of) and attitude. As they only looked up from their computers at the fifth throat-clearing and only to give a look which was far less ‘hello, how can I help you?’ and much more ‘what the fuck do you want?’ But as their electric cars were horrible, we enjoyed walking out.

And we are going to have to look at the I3. How can you not? It’s so popular it must have something going for it. Plus its fairly small (‘we’ like that), quite cute (‘we’ love that too). And the ID3 from VW looks interesting though I’ve heard good and bad reports.

It’s a whole new world out there in ‘lectric-land. So much speed. So little noise.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

We’re going to buy an electric car. No idea which one (THEY ALL LOOK THE FARKIN SAME) but that time has arrived. Mel wants a new car and in line with the zeitgeist it would be almost unthinkable for ‘her’ to buy the new Dodge Challenger re-do with a 6.2 litre supercharged engine delivering over 800 horses to the wheels. Which, being a Dodge, will slide around like… like… like a car chase in Bullitt, be fast as fuck, louder than an AC/DC concert and cause more pollution than 17 jet aircraft. That just wouldn’t be right. But oh my it would be fun.

Saving the planet is not about ‘fun’! Its about being conscious, aware, concerned, its about spouting off in Swedish every time someone lights a candle, its about being… holier than thou or, in the case of Boris Johnson its, yet again, about meaningless sound bytes which add up in total to the square root of fuck all. But more on him later. I’m off to buy a car!!!

And here’s the issue. Every manufacturer has ‘electric cars!!!’, won’t be making petrol cars after 2025, phasing out fossils altogether, blah, blah, blah. Like Volvo. The first to announce this. Yet they don’t make a fully electric, plug in car. Only ‘hybrids’. Those illegitimate devil spawn produced when Jeremy Clarkson fathered a child with Greta Thunberg. Not because I’m so opposed to hybrids but just because you get no benefits in terms of tax savings and allowances and free road tax and no congestion charge.

The problem is you can’t use the existing car bits and just ‘make them with electric motors’. Don’t work. You can get a hybrid like that but for a full electric you have to completely redesign and rebuild from the wheels up. So options are limited.

In fact once you eliminate the hybrids and the ‘plug in hybrids’ from the equation, you’re left with the I-3, old technology and common as muck, a few Teslas which won’t be delivered until 2033, a couple of Nissans and Renaults and the Jaguar I-Pace. Which we looked at. Mel needed a ladder to get into it but it is exceptionally beautiful. And incredibly massive. Immense in fact. (Didn’t look so big in the pictures). The hunt goes on.

Boris is putting hundreds of millions into OUR POCKETS!!! to get us out of the old gas boilers in our homes and into more tree-huggy ‘heat pumps’ which do the same thing. Almost. A new gas boiler: 2 grand. A heat pump: about 15!!!! Plus more radiators required, lots of plumbing needed outside the house (or flat???) So the PM has offered grants, not full payment but ‘help’ for up to 90,000!!!!! homes to replace gas boilers with heat pumps. Wow. Unfortunately there are over 25 million boilers currently in the UK. Which leaves… errrr… well, quite a few remaining after this current ‘carbon purge’. We’ll get back to you with some more sums later.

Happy Green Wednesday

A xxxx