Andy's Glasses

Jeremy Corbyn is now intending to take legal action against the Labour Party over his suspension. And bizarrely, he has a very strong case. Because I, and my legal team (Lila, Joey, Sheister and Co.), have scrutinised every word in that Party’s rules, minutely and with fine toothed combs and nowhere is it written in the ‘suspensions and disqualifications’ section that you mustn’t, wilfully and persistently, be a total c**t. So therefore, in the absence of a judicial review, Corbyn will be reinstated accordingly. Leading to a massive rift in the Labour Party, so profound that it won’t survive. It will split into what will be henceforth and forthwith be known as ‘The Labour Party’ and ‘The Virtually Communist Corbyn Party for Antisemites, Nazis, Bullies and all other Shitheads’. Unfortunately, ‘the money’ (Len McClusky) will go with the latter. Leaving a proud and decent political party, full of… decency and pride and… errr… penniless.

There was a meeting last night of ‘all the usual suspects’, being Momentum, John McDonnell, Diane Abbot, where they all agreed that the antisemitism issue was just a nothing which was blown out of all proportion by the right wing media and the fucking Jew, Christ-murdering, baby-eating, miser bastards. Of the 237 people assembled, 229 voted to have Corbyn reinstated, with just 135 opposing. Diane Abbot did the count. Obviously. There were 7 abstentions.

The best way to solve any problem is to deny it is a problem in the first place.

If only Boris could do that with Coronavirus. Trump is trying, and doing quite well, losing just 1000 people a day who are dying with the virus. The same virus he promised would be ‘gone by Easter’. Because he doesn’t know how to cope with anything that you can’t do a deal with, bully, shout at, write tweets to or grab by the pussy.

Another lockdown. Another furlough scheme? Depressing. Never mind, Christmas is only round the corner…

Happy soggy, wet, no-tennis Saturday

A xxxx

I went swimming yesterday morning. Actually, I never swam one single stroke. I went to the swimming pool yesterday morning. With Mel. Which would have been fine, in a way, I’d have done my 7 lengths before boredom had me thinking whether drowning was in fact such a bad way to go, then got out and waited for Mel to complete her 100, as she does every morning. The problem was that we took Lila and Joey with us.

I tried to explain to Joey, as he insisted on being carried into the pool, that social distancing rules preclude such activities, but he was having nothing of it. Reckons he can’t even swim. As if. Won’t wear our Peppa Pig float suit, because its like going into the water in a suit of armour. A waterlogged plastic one. Won’t use arm bands or a float. And who can blame him. They’re for babies. Oh, forgot…

Lila can almost swim. And when I say ‘almost’, I mean… she can’t. At all. Not in any way shape or form, even though I’ve been taking her for her lesson every week this term. If she’s not ploughing her way across the English Channel by January I demand a refund.

But to be honest, its not the pool that’s the problem with little kids; its the changing rooms. Showering with Joey is a pleasure. But sooooo fraught with danger and Mel was little or no help. Though she was in hers with Lila. We neeed 7 other people just to form a ring round Joey to save him from himself.

They banned Jeremy Corbyn from ‘his’ very own Labour Party. Holy shit!!! But he, like, owns it! He was the boss! Banned! Thrown under a bus by his new boss. The bus that has on its destination board: “Kier Starmer, 10 Downing Street”. And for what crime was Corbyn guilty? Well, nothing. The Equalities commission found him and his party guilty of ‘crimes against Jews’ but really it wasn’t that which was the problem. Not for Sir Kier. Corbyn merely enabled, encouraged, participated, engaged and shared platforms with any and every antisemite who thought to publish, shout about, abuse, harass or bully anyone ‘of the faith’. No crime in that. Then he personally was involved in ‘disciplinary decisions’ which should have been totally independent of his office. That’s fine too. Should be encouraged. In any dictatorship. What Starmer found unacceptable was that Corbyn’s first words after hearing the Commission’s damning verdict on His party were to deny anti-semitism was a problem, was to blame the press for over-inflating it, to accuse the right wing of his own party of the same thing. Same as he’s been doing all along. Though what should have elevated his punishment from banishment to death was when he repeated, for the 35,729th time: ‘I am opposed to antisemitism in all forms…’. Because then he becomes just someone who, as for the past 5 years, simply isn’t listening.

Good Friday, well, fairly good

A xxxx

If you’d gone into a coma in January and just woken up; well, obviously, you’d be begging to be allowed back into that coma, but if they didn’t let you, there’d be a whole new world to re-enter. With different words. New words. Or old words realigned. So I think its worth offering a few good, useful working definitions of some of the words and phrases now in common usage but which didn’t exist last year.

Pandemic.
An epidemic changes to a pandemic when two things happen. Firstly, when it becomes global and secondly when Boris Johnson is in charge of it. And epidemic is exclusively medical. A Pandemic is when the powers that be elevate it to a problem in each and every facet of life. Preferable term: shitstorm.

Lockdown.
The ‘lock’ is effectively what happens to the population who are locked in. And the ‘down’ refers to what happens to the economy as a consequence. Preferable term: lockdisaster. Alternatively: shitstorm.

Quarantine.
This involves going straight home from the airport and going nowhere for 14 days. Except maybe to walk the dog. Or someone else’s dog. The goldfish. Otherwise NOWHERE. Ok, maybe the pub just for a quick one. Or two. Then HOME. Then out again. It’s just finding the correct balance between civic responsibility, personal sanity and stocks of alcohol.
Preferable term: a 2-week bender.

Bubble.
This is the selected group of people that you care insufficiently about that you’re happy to infect them. Alternative term: anyone you know.

Rule of 6.
This refers to the 7, 8 or 9 people who are allowed by Boris to meet in certain situations. People arriving at your house but parking down the road do NOT count as part of the 6. Nor do others who arrive by other means. For Christmas the Rule of 6 means no more than 27 people together in one house, bed or sofa. Adhering to social distancing, obviously.

Banned words.
Handshake.
Hug.
Birthday Party
Conga chain.
Football fanS.
Moshpit.

I hope this helps. Otherwise, try Comas-for-us, who offer special family rates.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

And Spurs go marching on. I’m not gloating. Not smug. Not yet anyway. Another few wins and that will start in earnest. But a win at Burnley. And an ugly win at that.

We must firstly thank our manager who now has a won 10 lost 0 record against the lowly Lancastrian side for all 17 Premiership teams he’s managed. And although this is still very early days for any predictions, I’m going to anyway. In this, the most unpredictable season of them all. Where the only real consistency has been in the astounding results.

This weekend Arsenal lost at home to Leicester who were previously in a bad patch. Chelsea and Man United drew, as did Manchester City with West Ham, the perennial (fucking) drawers. Top team Everton lost but Liverpool managed to win.

So I take the league currently like this. There’s a divide. The top 14 and the bottom 6. Strictly, in terms of points and gaps it should be 15 and 5 but as the 15th team is Manchester United I’d rather include them with Fulham and Sheffield United at the bottom, just for purposes of upset, annoyance and sniggering. Or, ‘statistical significance’ as we should call it.

And its a fabulous league table, with Aston Villa, Wolves, Crystal Palace and Leeds ahead of Arsenal, Chelsea and the tragically disappointing and disappointed Manchesters. Shame its not a true ‘north-south’ divide, then it could be blamed on Covid, which is fast becoming a ‘northern problem’. But that would be too simplistic and convenient. And the very thought of all those nasal Mancs whingeing about it makes me want to throw my hearing aids under a bus.

Spurs are currently 5th, just 2 points off the top. Possibly those 2 (fucking) points that were (fucking) stolen by (fucking) West Ham last (fucking) Sunday. But I carry no scars. It’s done. Forgotten. Grrrrrr…

And all this with Gareth Bale barely touching a ball in anger. His mere presence on the bench scares teams shitless. He scares me shitless. In case he comes on and isn’t any good. Even though he is a GOD.

Yet talk is now of ‘can Spurs win the league’? ‘Is this our season?’ Because once the dust settles (if it should ever settle this season and part of me hopes it won’t) there’s only Liverpool and Spurs. And Liverpool have lost Van Dijk, their talisman and all round best player. Without Virgil they are NOTHING!! Other than a few brilliant midfielders and the most feared attack in the world. Otherwise NOTHING!!!

Therefore the Premiership is ours. And should that pan out not to be the case then its outright theft and should be punished by law.

Yours impartially

A xxxx

It’s the mating cry of the Covid politician: “its just weeks away”. Whatever it may be. More testing, test and track, new system, we’re just weeks away from that!!! Wow. Fucking efficient this government. Or they will be in a few weeks time.

And the latest, this very morning: we’re just weeks away from a vaccine for NHS staff. Holy shit! Or even, holy grail! The Coronavirus vaccine. Well they kept that quiet. Ok, not quiet, but just hid the fact that there is now allegedly a viable vaccine, where all we’ve been seeing is disastrous failures at producing such a thing, testing being halted for health reasons and, of course, anti-vaxers. Most interesting term. There are no support groups for the ‘anti-antibiotics’ or ‘anti-heart-medication’ lobbies, but bring out a vaccine and… and… and a certain type of person cries ‘murder!!’ That certain type being currently of the David Icke and Piers Corbyn variety. Two very worthy, learned and credible… morons. Although ‘moron’ implies a total ignorance, a kind of passivity, and these two, among others are positively active. In a stupid and blinkered way.

Piers Corbyn is Jeremy’s brother. Presumably the ‘thick one’ who didn’t become leader of the Labour Party. And to be thicker than Jeremy C is something. Whereas David Icke was a footballer, so he knows all about vaccines, and medicine in general, having strained his hamstring in 1976.

But Icke is now elevated to ‘conspiracy theorist in chief’. And has woven a fabric of spiritualism and even science fiction around his world of insane ramblings. Trying to turn it into a British version of Scientology, almost, but using a 4-4-2 formation. And for a conspiracy theorist, he is a very poor judge of conspiracies. He had such a strong belief in the totally discredited and fraudulent book, The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, that he self-published it. Obviously anti-Semitic conspiracies don’t count.

So you merge and anti-Semite with the brother of the country’s erstwhile chief antisemite (that’ll be Corbyn the Elder) and lo and behold they found that 78% of those on the anti-vaxers web pages were also posting antisemitic rubbish. I haven’t studied their postings but logically, if all vaccinations are bad and all Jews are bad, then possibly all Jews are vaccines? No, that don’t work. Then the vaccines are there to fund the Jews. Possibly. Or that if you take the vaccine you become Jewish!!! A well-known medical side-effect. I really don’t know what the link is. Other than hateful, stupid people. Always a good place to start in such cases.

I won’t be the first in line to take any vaccine, for sure. I like my head and have no desire to grow another. And if the vaccines work as well as the increased testing or test and track, then God help us all. But once its tried and tested, why the fuck would any sane person NOT have a vaccine?

And there’s the conundrum solved. ‘Sane person’. Ahhhhh, now we know.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

When I’m in the house on my own, I play Absolute Classic Rock on the radio. Not just because it’ll really annoy Mel when she gets home, normally during the guitar solo on some Black Sabbath track, though that certainly helps. But mainly because I love old music. The corollary of which is that I probably don’t like much newer music very much. Which is not true. Not strictly. I love Taylor Swift. Possibly as far from ‘absolute classic rock’ as you can get without taking the drugs away. When Mel comes in she tells Alexa off and gets her/him/it (not so much a ‘pronoun issue’ as an identity crisis) to play Ed Sheeran. The diametric opposite of absolute classic rock. Though I can take Ed, in very small doses. He’s a talented dude. But when you arrive back from tennis, which you played in the dry, and it starts raining on the way back, and you open the door to the Cars, Just what I needed, then you almost start to believe in divine forces, that possibly, the 72 billion deluded souls who actually believe in souls, may have a point.

And if anyone can tell me what the above charge document is for, please do so immediately. I sent a copy to Jeff Bezos this morning. Along with a letter. Threatening him with… well, how can you threaten the world’s richest and most influential man? With shame.

Me and Jeff are old pals. I’ve written to him before. And heard back. From Jhanna and Carrie and Michelle, but they’re all his people so its like I’m talking to Jeff, but with hair. And they tell me how they’ve made it safe and how ‘I’ll never be out of pocket with Amazon’ and how great they are at resolving issues. Yet this charge remains, uncredited. Even though no such charge appears on any list of orders, purchases or anything else on my account with both the .co.uk version or the .com. And I’ve spoken to so many customer services people, and abused them verbally, if I’m honest, out of sheer frustration, that I’m not going to call them again. Though my number is probably barred now. Americans are almost like normal people until it comes to swearing. Then they become the most prudish, proper, pedantic, puritanical plonkers. They just don’t fucking get it.

So I’ve changed my approach. From being the most annoying person they’ve ever dealt with, I’m not the most annoying and swearing person they’re ever going to meet. Fucking assholes.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

I saw a video the other night. A group of doctors from all over the world on some ‘Medical Truth’ forum, speaking out about… THE VIRUS!!! like what else? And it was interesting and it was different and it appeared to be very informed. They basically said ‘Covid is the flu, the world should not be in a state of total fucking emergency and total economic meltdown over a few people coughing’. Obviously China is no longer in any kind of meltdown whatsoever because unlike the namby pamby ‘west’ they can lock up an entire nation for 4 weeks with no bread (or rice) or water because they have a humungous army who don’t care who they kill. Or why. And perhaps (ALERT: POSSIBLE FURTHER CONSPIRACY THEORY WARNING!), when they started the epidemic, they already had their own exit strategy. Ooooooh, controversial. I’ll ask Alexa, she’ll know. But probably won’t tell.

And this video, on one of my little WhatsApp groups, was immediately shouted down as ‘a conspiracy theory’. ‘Where’s the validation???’ they cried. And I thought, ‘validation’… hmmmm… I thought.

Because how ‘valid’ is the vast sea of numerical bollocks that’s thrown at us every day by our government? They hurl numbers of increasing cases at us, without ever mentioning the rather important factor of HOW MANY TESTS THEY ARE DOING. They compare rates to March/April, when we know they’re testing millions now but struggled to reach 100,000 back then. But these are not ‘cases per so many head of population’, these are just raw (and consequently meaningless) numbers. Even ‘deaths’, normally a rather concrete matter, are dubious. Because they are deaths of people who tested positive in the last 10 days. Their last 10 days. Might have died of cancer. Car crash. But if they’d tested positive, its a coronavirus death. Test & trace is  a disaster because of the incompetence of the very people ‘in whom we place our trust’. 

I liked the Truth Doctors. It was credible. Based on the unarguable fact that thousands and thousands of people die of flu every year. And also because we’re going to soon have to count suicides among the dead. As ‘the good little things’ in our lives are steadily eroded, jobs lost, finances destroyed, by the current, government enforced ‘conspiracy’. How many will die of the cancer because their treatment was stopped?
The only difference between ‘a theory’ and ‘a conspiracy theory’ is that you choose to believe the former but not the latter. The only over-riding consideration is that they’re probably both total bollocks (within statistical significance). 
Happy Rainy Days
A xxxx

I read this in the paper yesterday and (totally fucking cracked up) was greatly moved (tears rolling down my face) by the sheer love and sacrifice that committed parents make for their children (ok, catching breath again). But any parent does such things, with regard to a child’s health, education, general wellbeing and a million other associated issues. But without wishing to sound all ‘JK Rowling’ about this, “very supportive of my pronouns”??? WTF??? They give him an extra vowel for his birthday? Few consonants for Christmas? Here, son/daughter/object-of-indiscriminate-gender-child-person, we’d like to give you a highlighter pen to underline precisely what you might be called on any given day. Even though you have a penis, don’t menstruate and wear a beard.

‘Personal pronouns’, to give them their full title, are just that. Personal. So… it(?) may think of his/her-self as a particular gender-or-non-binary thing, but that’s inside its own head. Others choose to ‘inflict’ pronoun usage on what stands before them. Unless we abolish his/hers/him/her/he/she for everyone in the world so as not to upset the 0.000321% of undecideds who might take offence at being referred to in the feminine merely because of a pink ball gown and massive tits. 

I appreciate that my views are predicated on the fact that I’m a ‘baby-boomer’ and thus they are entrenched in another, more ignorant frame of reference. And that any form of extremism, including in matters of political correctness, actually stimulates my ‘gag-reflex’ in a particularly strong manner. 

And  I’d rather talk about personal pronouns than football. I’d have been happy talking about football yesterday, but only up to 5 o’clock. When Spurs were still 3 nil up against West Ham. Were walking on proverbial water. Could do nothing wrong. All going swimmingly. In fact even at 6 o’clock, when we left the restaurant where Lila had eaten her supper, Joey had redistributed his around ours, and several nearby, tables and was running up and down the street screaming at the ice cream poster outside a different cafe, We parted from the babes, and their parents (we’re ALLOWED, innit, cos we do CHILDCARE BUBBLE, innit? so we can eat indoors as a 6!!!!) still 3 nil up. But in the 5 minutes it took to get home that was 3-1. Then 3-2 before I’d even closed the fucking door, and 3-all in the greatest footballing disaster that can’t be blamed on VAR, for-like-EVERRRRR!!!
Not very happy Monday
A xxxx

If you buy a ‘lectric car, a proper ‘plug in’ one, it needs to be charged. That’s kind’a how it works. Charge it up and, like your phone, or iPad or the zillion other things we spend our lives charging, it’ll let you down when you really, really, REALLY don’t need it. And you can use a normal charger, which will take 73 hours to charge the car up to 14% usage, or you can buy a ‘supercharger’ which will give you 80% charge in 20 minutes. Maybe 30. So you can drive your G-Whizz at up to almost 9mph without worrying about it just dying on you. Not that you’d probably notice.

The picture is what ‘superchargers’ used to be. And in some cases can still be. That ridiculous chrome ‘thing’ sticking out of the bonnet of the Dodge Charger (the one used in the original ‘Fast & Furious’ movie in this case) is a mechanical device which forces masses of air into the car engine at great pressure, making it burn fuel more quickly and consequently go faster. But like… a lot faster. And I do appreciate that forcing a car to burn twice the normal amount of petrol as it would normally is not a very zeitgeisty thing to recommend. Particularly as ‘normally’ for this particular car is about 9 miles per gallon.

In about nineteen seventy-something, God, or Porsche, invented a turbo-charger. We’re not sure who, they’re still arguing over the rights. Turbos are different. They recycle exhaust fumes back into the engine to push more power out the other end. And they’re fine and dandy and even efficient. But they ‘lag’. Which means you put your foot down to overtake a lorry and… and… and three seconds later you pick up speed. And turbochargers don’t make any noise. Just a feint whirring. With superchargers you get no ‘lag’. You put your foot down in the above car and your only hope is that it stays on the ground. And whilst you’re worrying about take-off, the noise is a spectacular reminder that you are driving a lethal weapon.

I’m not recommending a return to such values, like speed, fun, enjoyment and driving insanely and preferably with chemical stimulation, that is the most un-Covid concept ever! But…

Sadiq Kahn, poxy little dwarf shit-for-brains Mayor of all London has a problem. Other than the preceding. No tube and train travel means no income for TfL. So the congestion charge (“its not a TAX, its for pollution; honest!”), already hiked to 15 quid a day and 7 days a week, is possibly to be extended out to the north and south circular roads. No, its not to raise money; its about congestion and pollution. And he’s right. The air’s shit. So why stop there. Why not extend it out to the M25? Or better still, to Paris, Brussels and Reykjavik? That’ll show those Europeans whose boss.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

Gareth Bale is home. In England. Even though he’s Welsh and lives in Spain. But ‘home’ is where the heart is. Not necessarily his heart, that’s probably in Cardiff or Swansea or Anglesey. But my heart. And those of all other Spurs fans. So much so that he chose that very symbol as his personal goal celebration. Ok, he used it in Madrid too, not as often, but he didn’t really mean it over there. You could tell. I could tell. But in anticipation of his possibly playing tomorrow, I thought I’d better decide if he’s any good. Or rather, how good he was, back in the day. The Spurs day. And YouTube found me his 10 best goals. And so, for all Spurs fans (even those who purportedly support other teams but deep down wish they could outwardly support Spurs, like most Arsenal fans, half the Man United fans, that’s the ones who live in north London, hopefully no Chelsea fans, otherwise we’re very welcoming) I can tell you that Bale was every bit as wonderful as we remember. Better even.

The 25 yard, 30 yard wonderstrikes I’m sure his left foot can still achieve. And there were many. But a lot of his goals were about the speed, the power, the sheer Bale-ness of not just driving at the opposition but totally steamrollering past them (to mix my metaphors) like a Ferrari. And I can’t help but wonder if he can still do that. Because he’s 7 years older. And footballing years, due to injuries and the strains, are like dog years. They’re worth 7 of ours. So although he’s only 31, in footballing years he’s 73.

The number one of his top 10 goals, according to YouTube, was scored against West Ham. Coincidentally the team we play tomorrow. Gareth hit the winner in the 90th minute. That was 8 years ago and West Ham still haven’t got over it.

And even though the ground will be virtually empty, there will be a united cry heard from all over London (and beyond) of ‘Bay-all, Bay-all, Bay-all…’ for the entirety of the match. As soon as he comes on. If he comes on. Or even if he doesn’t. We chant it every night in our house just because.

Liverpool play Everton today in the ‘Covid Bowl’ to decide who can infect more people in a 90-minute spell. Up there in Tier 3.

Down here in Tier 2, I can still play tennis but only on my own. Spurs Paul came on and played for an hour after I’d left the court. By himself. In accordance with the new regulations from midnight. Having cleaned the court with a wet wipe first.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx