Andy's Glasses

Budget day today. Not the budget Rishi Sunak thought he was going to give, when he got the job a couple months’ ago, but a different one. This is the world’s first Coronavirus Budget. I think he’ll put a 20% tax increase on anyone getting the virus and then they’ll think twice before contracting it, or leave the country to avoid the tax hike. Either way its a win.

But for the first budget of a brand new government, with a massive majority in the House, we were waiting for the major ‘5 Year PLAN’ and the lofty projects and the HS2s and possibly 3s and then the 5G network, on the menu, just after the beef chop suey, and infrastructures and NHS and policing and all sorts of billions and billions. Instead we have plans for a virus.

Which is so BIG in our lives now, so absolutely MASSIVE a part of expectations, that it has taken over. So completely that they’ve done the unthinkable, the unimaginable, the impossibly NEVER! and cancelled a football match. Holy shit. That’s when you know its serious. Manchester City will NOT be playing Arsenal tonight because of Coronavirus. Sky TV must be thrilled. NHS Manchester must also be quite pleased and a bit relieved.

And all because Arsenal played Olympiakos recently and their owner has contracted the virus.

Which is the way it goes. The interconnectedness of people. A guy who plays tennis at my little club every Sunday (but THANK GOD not for a few months) has the virus. Got it in Italy. He’s a local dentist. His son went to a party on Saturday night, possibly not the brightest move, and oddly, there were quite a few people there. So yesterday a woman cancelled her appointment with my wife because her daughter was at that party and the woman is now ‘self-isolating’. A term we had never heard until one month ago and is now spoken 50 times a day.

The ‘seven degrees of separation’ never seemed so sinister. Kevin Bacon must be scared shitless. (That’s obscure but I’m sure it’ll mean something to someone).

So the budget has to plan now for unexpected billions on health. On helping businesses. On the crashing stock market. On mortgage relief.

And all for, basically, a cold.

Masks on, hand sanitisers at the ready, hands washed, its time to un-isolate.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

It’s Purim today. Did you know that? It’s a Jewish holiday where you make a lot of noise and eat little poppy seed cakes. Jewish holidays are always defined by the food. Always. And on Purim you dress up. Fancy dress. Because that’s what God said. Purim celebrates the salvation of the Jews in Persia. By Queen Esther. The king of Persia, Esther’s husband, had an evil advisor, a kind of Arthur Andersen meets Adolph Hitler of his day, who told the king to kill all the Jews. Esther, apparently as beautiful as Meghan Markle, as gorgeous as… as me, as stunning as… a taser, she worked on the King and saved all the Jews. Hooray. So they could go and get threatened/slaughtered/exiled/deported/persecuted/reviled by the next lot. Which would then cause another holiday because the whole Jewish thing is one of survival. Against often ridiculous odds. We even survived Jeremy Corbyn!

Although that’s not over yet. There’s no fat lady singing and if she is, it ain’t no Hebrew song. The Labour Party are still being investigated by the IHRA and yet are still talking the same old rubbish but in fact its almost worse now as ‘the Jews’ have, in some hard-left quarters, become the scapegoats for the election disaster. Something pointed out to leader hopeful Rebecca Long Bailey in a meeting to which she said… precisely nothing. Keep the policies, blame the Jews. New Labour.

And Kier Starmer is, we now learn, married to a Jewish woman. And he loves Friday night dinners and the holidays and all his Jewish friends and family and, other than the mere fact of circumcision, is as Jewish as the chief rabbi. And I say ‘now learn’ because of an interview he gave to the Jewish press. Nothing to do with his own leadership campaign. So just one question for Sir Kier: WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU WHEN YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING POLITICAL PARTY WAS BEING INSTITUTIONALLY ANTISEMITIC ON A DAILY FUCKING BASIS!!! Just a little question.

Kier’s probably gone in fancy dress to the hustings today. I wonder if he’s gone as a character from ‘Frozen’ like Lila and Joey? I think he should, there’s always been something icy about that man.

Happy Purim

A xxxx

Where’s ‘international men’s day’? Why don’t we have one? There I am with my almost ‘equals’ sign (another 4 months’ of physio and I should make it) and then I find that women get not just a ‘day’ but an ‘international day’ in celebration of… of… of women. I celebrate them every day. Except when I have one driving ahead of me in a Range Rover. Then my… errrr… celebrations are slightly muted. Could even be mistaken for swearing. On occasion. Or confusion. Why are you driving down the middle of this road when its 2-way and there’s cars coming towards you? 

Yesterday was international women’s day and bless them all. Meg made a speech in a school and was groped by the head boy. Good luck to both of them. And women all over the world… were even more womanly yesterday than on any other day of the year. Because we celebrated that very womanliness in so many ways. And not all of them asking which shirt’s been ironed. No. According to the rules, we celebrated women’s contribution of a social, economic, political and cultural nature. Otherwise known as: talking on the phone; shopping; arguing and watching Love Island. In that order. And I applaud it all.

There is, in fact, an ‘international men’s day’ too. Wikepedia told me. Its in November. But unlike the female version, its not recognised by UNESCO, so is kind of unofficial.

Where’s the ‘equals’ there then? And isn’t it a bit ‘binary’ having just days for men and women? When there are now, apparently, so many options. In betweens. Almosts but not quites. Where’s the ‘diversity’???

My only real surprise is that Hallmark haven’t come up with a range of ‘happy international women’s day’ cards. Badges. Mugs. T-shirts. Key rings. I’d buy Lila an international women’s day Peppa Pig in a moment. Or and IMD unitorn. She’d love that. But what about Joey? He’s a little man. Come November he’ll find out that any celebration of his manhood is strictly unofficial. And he’ll hate that. Though unlike me he can celebrate it as he does every other day by pissing on the floor.

Happy Monday
A xxxx

I know that the Duchess of Sussex (Meg) is quite a divisive character. Marmite (nothing racist in that word). People hate her and people love her. I’m a lover. For although she has broken our royal family asunder, has upset Her Majesty the Queen, has shown disloyalty to the throne of England, is taking our favourite son away to foreign lands, there to prostitute his royalness in the brothel of a celebrity circus, even with all that I love her. Because she’s gorgeous. Yes, I am that forgiving. Not to mention shallow, stupid, a man and blessed with sufficient blood to manage but one organ, and it ain’t me brain. Meghan has a smile that lights up a room. And other things which light up other parts. But this is certainly NOT a place for mere objectification of a woman!!

There was a photo of her today (there’s pretty much at least 7 every day, don’t know what all those photographers are going to do when she leaves) making a sign with her forearms. A bit like the one I’ve copied here. Except the arms should be parallel to each other. Making an ‘equals’ sign. To denote equality. Between the genders. Men, women, gays, trans, bis, neutrals, hermaphrodites, accountants, other ‘things’, equal. Great sentiment. Hence my own tribute. As we’re all encouraged to post pics of this new wonder-sign. It’s going viral. It’ll be the #metoo for those totally bored with Harvey Weinstein specifically and ‘all men are rapists!’ generally.

But unfortunately, I have a problem with my right shoulder. A profound problem. Which prevents the required movement to get my right arm parallel to my left. So, although the sentiment was there, and I’ll join any fucking movement any time, especially if Meghan is involved, I ended up with a different sign. Which, in maths, means ‘greater than’. And I’d like to state, on the record, here and now, that although I AM in fact greater than most people on the planet, that was not my intention here. Nor is it a new, new movement for arrogant, sexist, misogynist bastards like me. No, this was support. This was just ‘equals’ which went a bit lop-sided. Due to physiological constraints. So please, to all my sister feminists, forgive me; I’m with you all the way. Especially if Meg’s coming.

Spurs and Burnley finished ‘equals’ yesterday. 1 all. I watched some of it and then… and then… and then switched to the rugby on the other side. Not that I just needed to watch a team I love (in that case, England) actually winning something, but just because… just because… just because Spurs were fucking awful and it was horrible to watch.

Happy equal Sunday

A xxxx

I’ve made a decision. On behalf of the whole world. That anyone who uses the word ‘woke’ not in connection to having been asleep, is a tosser. Of such magnitude that they should be arrested, publicly stoned (in the violent sense, he’s probably already in the other one), or eviscerated with a wooden post. Or something equally as blunt. There will be NO appeal. No second chances. Just total zero tolerance and immediate sanction. Because although the meaning behind the stupidity is a fairly noble one, being ‘alert to injustice in society, particularly racism, sexism, most-any-ism’, it has actually come to define an exceptionally narrow band of tolerance which is then used as dogmatic justification of not discussing things that may be, or may have once been, ‘un-woke’. Which is the pure ignorance of deniers of free speech or any opinion that is not ‘woke’. Thus Amber Rudd, one time Home Secretary, due to speak at the Oxford Union this week, was ‘cancelled’ 30 minutes before the scheduled start. Because of her connection to Windrush. Which was tenuous at most. But heh, she’s not ‘woke’ so she shall not speak. Tossers.

Someone definitely about 6,000 miles short of woke is Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid-al-Maktoum. The geezer wot rules Dubai. You know him, white sheet, headdress, beard, you know the one. Matey with the Queen. Well, he was, as they used to share a love of horses together. But then came… kidnap-gate! The King allegedly kidnapped 2 of his own daughters and imprisoned them in Dubai to prevent them escaping to… to… well, to lead, normal, nice, sort of… lives. But when you control armies you can generally find people to do your bidding. And Moh did just that and imprisoned his own daughters. Which came to light apropos his divorce from his 6th wife. In the custody battle. Ex-wifey-VI, as we call her, obviously had views about her ex-hubby’s credentials as a parent. And possibly as a husband. Who really objected to his 6th wife having an affair. I mean, sleeping with someone else whilst married is really despicable, immoral, horrible. None of the other 5 wives he routinely slept with would have done that. I’m surprised he didn’t have her stoned to death. Though as she’s Jordanian royalty that may have sparked an international issue.

So there we have it. I a-woke today and decided it was anti-woke day. A word I’ve never used in earnest, never will and cringe every time I hear it.

Spurs playing Burnley in the late match, I’m hoping to be out by then. Just in case I happen to have to watch any of it. Nooooooooo…

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

Spurs lost a match on Wednesday night. I’d just finished playing bridge when the penalty shoot-out started. ‘Watched’ it on text stream because I couldn’t find it anywhere. There again, I’m not the best at finding anything: keys, phone, ‘that bill I put somewhere and needs payin’’, my shoes…

And we (faaaarrrrkin!!!!) lost. To bottom-of-the-table Norwich in the FA Cup. It was awful. It was tragic. It was a sad and sorry result for my team. Even though we’re so used to losing to shitty teams, currently, it still hurts.

Losing bridge hurts too. But I’d never call my wife and my brother ‘a shitty team’. Not in public anyway.

So the match at White Hart Lane finished and the mood was understandably dark and solemn. And then Eric Dier took off from the pitch, jumped the little wall (he’s 6 foot 4 or thereabouts, a three foot ‘wall’ doesn’t even get noticed) and ran up the tiers of seating with a maniacal look on his face. To find his brother. Who, when he looked up for him at the end of the game, he saw was in ‘an altercation’ with some fans. Eric saw red. That’s his little brother. And set off in protective mode. To protect. And serve. Whatever. He was pissed off and angry and looked it. The stewards intervened and all was fine.

Except its not fine. At the end of the game a group of Spurs fans, obviously near ‘the brother’, chose to verbally abuse Eric Dier as the scapegoat elect by their little cabal. And in case you’re unfamiliar, for something to even rank as ‘abuse’ at a football match, it must be really, really REALLY bad. Because fans have become normalised to shit that is completely unacceptable in virtually any and every other context in society. At football, blind ears (??) are turned to the alleged and imaginary sexual deviation of players, sung loud and clear. Arsenal Wenger was accused of paedophilia regularly by the Spurs faithful. Seemingly nothing is ‘off limits’. Except mothers. Those you abuse at your peril (see the magnificent and wonderful Eric Cantona above in response to such a slur at a match 25 years ago). So maybe brothers are close enough.

I have a basic rule about football chants that if they’re funny they’re fine and if they’re nasty they’re not. Though I appreciate this may be a somewhat subjective. Somewhat. But now and again someone’s gonna get angry. A button will be pushed. And trigger pressure is increased by losing matches. Against ‘poor teams’. On penalties.

Eric Dier probably didn’t hear what the abusers were shouting. He just went to protect his brother. Even a ‘court’ as stupid, lacklustre, limp and impotent as the Football Association shouldn’t have issues with that. Whereas abuse by fans is something that might be ‘of interest’.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

This lady is Kim Yo-jong. Who was first seen in public at the funeral of Kim Jong-il and assumed to be Kim Jong-un’s wife. But in fact is… (pause for effect and suspense like they do on game shows…) his SISTER!!! Which doesn’t mean they don’t sleep together, who knows what happens in North Korea. They’re not like ‘normal people’. Pyongyang, Ipswich, Oklahoma, whatever.

But it transpires that Ms Kim is in fact Vice Minister for Propoganda and Agitation. I’m not sure how far the whole ‘nepotism’ thing works out there, where the presidency is hereditary, its a bit like our royals. Or really, its like our royals used to be, 500 years ago. Because Kim had his (half-) brother murdered at an airport, which is very Mary Queen of Scots. So giving important jobs to family is perhaps acceptable. And it would take a very brave man to complain.

Part of the Kim Yo-jong’s remit is ‘managing her brother’s schedule and his public image’. And unless the brief was to ‘see him portrayed as a stupid fat clown’, I question how good she is, image-wise. I’d start with a gym membership for the plonker, a new barber, decent pair of glasses and a tie. But I’m not clued up on North Korean ways. No-one outside of that little part of the peninsula is. It’s so secretive.

Yo-Jong also put out her first statement this week. Comparing neighbours, (but not necessarily in the ‘friendly’ or ‘Love thy’ sense), South Korea to ‘a mere child’ and ‘a frightened dog’ over the latter’s complaints of yet more testing of long-range missiles. The ones Donald Trump was so proud of stopping.

I’m making no judgments about her at this time. I hardly know her. In fact, didn’t know she existed until this picture appeared in the Times today. But she looks like someone who should be wearing a mask.

Michael Bloomberg has pulled out of the democratic leadership race. Which cost him $550 million in 3 months. Pocket change to him. And is now throwing his lot, and a vast amount of more money, at Joe Biden. Who is the last man standing against Bernie Sanders for the Democratic leadership. Our last hopes of getting Trump out of the White House and more importantly, not having to see or listen or read about the stupid man for the next 4 years. Unfortunately, neither Democrat has a chance.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

I was talking to a ‘die-hard red’ yesterday. They’re all ‘die-hard’ until they start losing. Then they become ‘suffer-a-lot’ reds. But I felt his pain. Not saying I sympathised with it, but I felt it. Because, even with his beloved Liverpool a massive 22 points ahead of Manchester City at the top of the table, he, like his team, is getting the jitters. A case of the ‘yeah, but what if…?’ syndrome. And that was yesterday morning. By night-time Liverpool had lost their 3rd game out of the last 4. Ok, two weren’t league games but various cup matches, but still. But still. BUT STILL! This is a supposed ‘invincible’ team. Regardless of what match is played.

Yet this is not a ‘sudden plummet’. It’s been evolving. From the incredible results with which they started their season, Liverpool were simply outstanding. Unplayable. Amazing in attack, superb in a defence led and bossed by golden boy Virgil Van Dijk. Mane, Firmino, Salah, all scoring for fun. Ripping teams apart. The best wing back pairing in the league, if not the world. But then the wins became less emphatic. Then a bit of a struggle. Then a dose of luck required and winning ‘ugly’. Not that the team, nor the fans, gave a shit as long as the weekly dose of ‘free points’ came their way.

So whether it is fatigue, after a long, hard winter program, or, as someone said on the radio yesterday, the fault of the winter break, I don’t know. No-one does. Not me, not God, not even Jurgen Klopp. Though it would seem unlikely that having a rest week after playing 10 games in 3 weeks would be anything but beneficial. But what do I know?

Spurs have done this regularly. Ok, not being 22 points ahead in the league, no team has ever done that before. But giving that wonderfully false sense of security which gives way to the murder of all hope. The more you believe the harder you fall.

Last season Liverpool were 10 points ahead of everyone else at the end of January and managed to lose the title. Which is possibly why everyone has become so jittery now. But Manchester City, should they win ALL their remaining matches, will end on 90 points. Liverpool already have 79. So ‘just’ have to win 4 of their last 10 games. Which should be beyond easy. If they play like they did at the start of the season. Which they are finding difficult. But Manchester City won’t win all of their games. Probably.

You never know. We may yet get some excitement at the top of the table for the season end. And its nice to know that others are suffering too.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

So we all have a decision to make. Do we ignore the Coronavirus altogether and keep on with what is known as ‘life’? Or do we convert to mask-wearing sneeze-averse, cling-film wrapped paranoids, avoiding all possible contact with anyone, working from home, having the Ocado geezer leave ALL THE SHOPPING AT THE END OF THE PATH BY THE ROAD! DON’T WALK ANY CLOSER!!!! and hand sanitising 263 times a day? The choice is yours. And either is ok.

Every year in the U.K. 17,000 people die of flu. Just regular, common-or-garden, English, non-imported, domestic, home-grown (possibly) flu. The sort that makes you feel like shit and keeps you in bed sweating for 3 days thinking you’re going to die but (unless you’re one of the unlucky 17k) just goes away leaving you fine. And there’s never any fuss. Never a panic. Never an incitement to MASK UP!!!! In fact it barely makes the news.

Yet one Chinaman, we’ll call him Mr Li, just on percentage grounds, dies in Wuhan and we have a pandemic. A world catastrophe, shut the schools, close off the airports, sell your shares, abandon life as we know it. If it wasn’t for football all public gatherings would have been long outlawed. But there’s way too much money in the Premier League for it to be affected by a few deaths. And as most football fans only read the sports pages and hence don’t know about Coronavirus, their ignorance is bliss. Unless they’re Spurs fans in which case their ignorance is FUCKING AGONY.

I personally think you have more chance dying from a terrible Spurs performance than you have from Coronavirus. But I’m no Doctor. I rarely even go to the doctor. Only for scans.

Possibly my favourite Stephen King book is The Stand. Old but sheer brilliance. It’s about a post apocalyptic world in which a ‘plague’ has killed off 99.99% of the world’s population, leaving only the tiny number blessed with natural immunity. Being Stephen King they divide into the GOOD and the BAD and weird things happen. But its a story of survival. Because when the Ocado guy dies, you don’t get fed. And a few other problems.

So by about May, we’ll either be there, in The Stand, taking our side in the fight for mankind’s massively diminished future, with me and Lila and all the good guys, possibly on the ‘dark side’ with all the remaining Arsenal fans and devil worshippers, or it’ll all just blow away as the temperatures rise. Because Corona don’t like heat.

Let us pray for global warming. Like NOW!

Happy, healthy Tuesday

A xxxx

Priti Patel is at the centre of a storm. She is in fact that storm. Allegations of bullying, lying, harassment, abuse, demeaning, rape (I just added that for drama) and tyrannical behaviour have led to calls for our Home Secretary to explain herself to parliament. Well, Labour have called for that, so she probably won’t bother. The Prime Minister has stated his ‘full confidence and support’ in Ms Patel. Which, in Westminster parlance, normally means ‘gone by Tuesday’. But this is not ‘normal’ government. It is no longer seen as a place where shouting, swearing and violence are viewed as abnormal or detrimental. Priti Patel is merely a short Dominic Cummings. Bit wider. More hair. And as such will retain her job, and her smug smile. Particularly as she remains one of the only 4% of women in the SW1 area who have NOT given birth to a Boris-baby.

The Middle East gets more worrying every day. And its just soooo complicated. Turkey shot down 2 of President Assad’s jet fighter planes yesterday. In retaliation for Assad bombing loads of the Turkish troops who are in Idlib to try and prevent the massacre of innocent civilians which is currently being systematically perpetrated by Assad and his Russian mates. So Turkey has almost, effectively attacked Russia. Almost.

Assad is bombing Idlib because it is the last remaining ‘stronghold’ for anti-government rebels. And as we’re opposed to the Syrian government, as any decent human being should be, we must therefore default to supporting these rebels. But these rebels are, along with the Turks and lots of just ‘normal Syrian people’, jihadists. Fighters previously with ISIS, with Al Quaeda, are now continuing their fight in Syria as ‘the rebels’. Which is why Assad can proclaim his ‘war against terrorism’. Even though the terrorists are now seemingly fighting against the bad guys. So you have a war running between the positively evil and the downright awful. Which would be just fine if there weren’t a million innocent men, women and loads of children in the middle of it.

What happened to the good guys wearing the white hats and the baddies wearing the black ones? So you knew who was who? Probably lacked diversity. Discrimination against red-hatted people. Gender biased.

Happy Monday

A xxxx