Andy's Glasses

“My life is ruined!!!”
“This is worst day everrrrrrr!!!”
“If ever you needed proof that there is no God, this is it!!!”

Heung Min Son has broken his arm. A tragedy of such magnitude that you have to go back to the start of various wars, natural disasters and horrendous fires to come up with a parallel. This is a catastrophe on a par with Krakatoa. Where? Exactly.

The official word is a ‘fracture’. But one that requires surgery. Which will keep everyone’s favourite South Korean off the pitch probably til the end of the season. A situation which would always be bad, but in the continued absence of the Lord, Harry Kane, this leaves my team a little short in the goal-scoring department. Ok, a lot short in the goal-scoring department.

But there’s goals all over the pitch!! is the mating cry of the overly optimistic Spurs fan (of which there are only 3 in existence, the rest of us are doom-mongers), and that may be so. But not enough goals. Harry scores shed-loads, but he’s gone. And when injury plagues our esteemed leader, we depend on one man to step up and fill those rather large boots. Sonny. And he does. Every time.

But its more than just scoring goals, which he does so well, netting 6 in our last 5 games. It’s about the man himself. The attitude, the joy, the pleasure, that smile. It’s about someone who encapsulates the entire spirit of how the team want to be. And now he’s out for the year. Leaving a positively humongous void in the team. As well as in MY LIFE!

Fortunately Lila’s around, not on the injury list, so there’s pleasures to be had still. Yet I’m concerned. She is fairly obsessed with the colour pink. Or ‘pint’ as she calls it. And I worry that we may be, collectively, unconsciously manipulating her into being a girl. Ok, she is a girl, but I know from my extensive reading that gender cannot be presumed just by a mere random arrangement of biology. It’s much more complex than that, even for a (nearly-)three year-old. She needs to be given choices. She needs to be given a gun. A knife. A tank. Dressed in camo. Goth black. Shown the numerous ‘options’ before deciding on a… sort of… career-gender. We owe it to her. Ok, she does wear black, but only if its got a ‘unitorn’ printed on it. Not sure where that counts in the gender neutral fluidity scale. I better check.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

So the government hired a ‘consultant’ as a researcher, forecaster and, weirdo and misfit, so as to meet the stringent criteria laid out by the weirdo and misfit in chief, Dominic Cummings. Who wanted to get the government into a new place, new ideas, no more bunch of apathetic old middle class white men, bring on the ‘outside-the-box’ thinkers. However off the fucking wall they may be.

And you really can’t get much further off that wall than Andrew Sabisky. But you’d kind’a think, that for a position in the government, someone might have done a background check. Someone might have looked for ‘flags’ that could be used against him. And about 3 minutes on that thing called ‘the internet’ would have revealed much about young Andrew. Most of it from when he was even younger Andrew. But there’s no statute of limitations on stupid comments, particularly in the hands of the press, and even when taken doubtlessly out of context.

If someone were to ‘research’ me, they’d find an intolerant, racist, sexist, misogynistic, perverted, deviant fascist. And obsessive grandfather. I’ve called for the death of numerous football managers. I’ve recommended VAR cameras be inserted into parts of bodies where things shouldn’t go. I’ve supported terrorism, witch hunts, nepotism and murderers. And you read it all, and laughed out loud. Vegans? Climate change?? Electric cars???? Who fucking needs any of ‘em?

Andrew Sibersky was a bit different. But when they find quotes like ‘you wife should submit to you as to the Lord and she must obey you’, I simply cannot believe that anyone who isn’t a Mormon would say such a thing without tongue firmly in cheek. Other of his gems include ‘women’s sport is closer to Paralympic than to men’s’. Again, you have to laugh. Well, some of us do. Because its so stupid and controversial that it is intended to be funny, not literal. Yet take away the context and that text message you sent your wife about the dog being neutered becomes inflammatory.

But I’m not saying Andrew Sibersky was good or correct or even the right man for the job. He bangs on about eugenics to an extent where it starts to become seriously unfunny. Controlling populations by mass contraception (sterilisation of the poor, basically) and making assumptions about race and IQ (the Eugencist’s favourite tool) which don’t take into account things like education, opportunity and home-life, are fascistic to the point of being positively Hitlerian.

What does hiring such an unsuitable person say about the government? And until someone actually votes for Dominic Cummings then Boris is still the nominal head of our government. And they contracted a man who they either knew transcended the line between ‘funny’ and ‘deeply offensive’, or they didn’t bother to look. Either way, it don’t look very good for our government.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

I’m not saying that you need be either a Spurs fan or a Jew to understand the entire ‘Y-word’ debate, but suffice to say, you just need not be Oliver Holt. Who misses, pretty much, all the salient points by several country miles. Reducing a very delicate and complex situation to mere ‘racism!!’ (All such terms come with implicit exclamation marks in any Mail newspaper, even if they’re not printed.) And by using David Baddeil as his token Jew of choice and reference. As if by being famous and Jewish, Baddeil’s comments carry more weight than anyone else’s. Have a ‘greater understanding’ which must, ergo, be the universal conclusion of the entire Jewish race. Like the chief rabbi of the terraces.

Because Oliver Holt, in choosing his martyr, misses the point that Baddeil (who I have masses of love and respect for as a comedian and writer, slightly less so as a Chelsea fan) has to watch his ‘brethren’ at Stamford Bridge pour venom and hatred on the Spurs fans, using that very ‘y-word’ with most vile intention. And it makes the comedian very uncomfortable. As it would any Jew in such a situation. Except the Spurs fans.

Before reading Mr Holt’s ridiculously one-sided and ill-informed article I’d never previously heard anyone refer to ‘reclaiming the word from the racists’. I can assure you, as a Spurs fan, we have no desire to reclaim anything. The fact that these people doing the reclaiming are ‘not even Jewish!!!’ further strengthens the position. That word, horrible though it unquestionably is, is and always has been vile and evil. Which again, is pretty much the point.

That point being Spartacus. Spartacus? When the Roman soldiers come to arrest the gladiator in the movie, they ask where he is. And one by one, all the assembled gladiators stand up and say ‘I am Spartacus’. Dozens of them. Hundreds. And it is very poignant and moving scene. A group of men showing the ultimate solidarity with an intended victim. Identifying with him and as him, in order to protect him. ‘Je suis Charlie Hebdo’ similarly became a massive hashtag (the post-modern version of standing up and being counted) as a show of solidarity with the satirical magazine whose offices were blown up by terrorists.

So when Spurs fans ‘self-identify’ as ‘Yids’, it is with that same sentiment. That if you think you (the horrible, aggressive and indeed racist fans of other clubs) can insult ‘our Jews’, then for this purpose, we are all Jews. We all stand together. As one. And that’s how it started. As a response. As a reaction. We never stood up and claimed to be ‘The Yids’, it was thrust upon us by others.

Thus for Spurs fans, particularly Jewish ones, who in any other circumstance loathe and despise that horrible word, it actually becomes a source of pride and inclusion and a protectiveness that is heart-warming.

I may be a fool, a moron and an idiot but I’m none of those things sufficiently that I would write an opinion piece for a national newspaper without consulting ‘the other side’. Because even for Mail newspapers, there is always another side.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

A statement on behalf of the owner and directors of Manchester City football club, via 17 partners of 19 different companies of the world’s most aggressive legal Rottweilers.

May it please God as the crescent moon lights the hearts in the Persian Gulf, without prejudice.

It has been stated by those motherless sons-of-whores (no contradiction there, then) at UEFA, may they burn in the eternal fires of hell after being castrated and seeing their gonads fed to camels!) that Manchester City have broken an arbitrary, meaningless and apparently randomly applied set of rules called Financial Fair Play. That the saintly Sheikh Mansoor has funded the club’s overspending by using his own purse to wipe out a few little debts. None of which add up to more than even half a billion pounds. Whereas the evil and hateful Paris St German spent more than this on one solitary player and the hateful Qatari!!! owners there did not face similar charges. Though in Abu Dhabi they would have had their intestines removed and spread across the floor to be eaten by the dogs!

The allegations made by UEFA are scandalous. And we shall address some of the points here, openly and transparently, so the world can see that everything was above board and within regulations.

The question of ‘ball sponsorship’ was raised. But every team has a ball sponsor. Ours is, let me just check… yes, our Sponsor is a company called ‘Etihad’. An airline, I believe. Manchester United have a ball sponsor who pay them £10,000 a year. Etihad pay us £57million. Because we use better balls.

Strangely enough, we have the same sponsor for the naming rights of our illustrious stadium. The Etihad! May it be standing for the return of the Prophet. And all clubs sell their naming rights. Ok, most clubs arrange a, sort of, ‘fixed fee’. Like, 5 million a year. Whereas we have a more… flexible arrangement. So the sponsorship money paid by Etihad might appear, to some misguided people, to be the precise equal to the massive debt incurred by the club’s horrendous over-spending in that financial year. And that just because Sheikh Mansoor, our club’s illustrious owner, is also the owner of Etihad Airlines, people feel this to be a little ‘convenient’. As if he was personally writing off the club’s debt!!! Heaven forbid!!! Even though quite a lot of the money appeared to come directly from his personal bank account. Note: APPEARED. Nothing proven. Yet. And those emails were taken ‘out of context’, even though we’re not prepared to show them in context because… because UEFA are unworthy!!!

And finally, how is it ‘fair’, how is it ‘decent’, how is it ‘democratic’ if a football club is prevented from buying all the trophies in the game just because they’re owner is the richest man around? How is such a thing fair? I feel those so-called ‘Europeans’ have a lot to learn about proper ‘fairness’, and how to buy it.

May the sun continue to shine from Kevin de Bruyne’s bottom.

Amen.

Mansoor
Xxxx

Ever heard of a ‘non-crime hate incident’? The police record them against you if you’ve… well if… when you…

‘Non-crime hate incident’ is bollocks. Total and utter bollocks. It means you’ve said something not even nasty, just perhaps funny, silly or mildly insulting, yet in no way inciting to violence or even a mere threat. Like we all do about 97 times every hour. But its not recorded. So if you extend this form of what might previously have been known as ‘teasing’ onto an online platform, then its not teasing or ‘taking the piss’ but becomes elevated to ‘non-crime hate incident’. Because it sounds much more grand.

These ‘incidents’ of which 120,000 have been logged by the police in the last 5 years, are reported to them. Basically by someone who disagrees. Who objects. Who shows way more sensitivity than they do the essential ability to laugh at themselves (without which we all descend into total dickhead-dom from which there is no return or release).

In Britain we have a knife-crime epidemic where 100 teenagers get stabbed every day (these figures may not be official, nor a ‘non-crime hate incident’ even though I hate stabbing) so the police really have lots of time on their hands to fuck about with minor insults and slurs, issued without malice at various groups of ‘minorities’, particularly those declared ‘vulnerable’.

And so yesterday a man who I don’t know took the Humberside police to court. To have lifted his ‘non-crime hate incident’. And he won. The judge, in an uncharacteristic attack of common sense and decency, decided that to have the police basically monitor this man’s thoughts, ideas and words and take action against them because one single person was in some way offended, is a slippery slope to a nasty, Orwellian, KGB/Stasi type society punishing ‘thought crimes’.

All well and good except… the offended person was of a ‘trans’… disposition?… inclination?… process? Whatever. He/she/it (oops) was ‘trans’ and that’s all you need to know. And trans people are covered by the same level of insanity as are currently vegans and Muslims. Best to say NOTHING about any of them. Safer that way.

The Labour Party has now changed its guidance for members to include just such a madness. That adherence to an ultra tolerance to children as young as 4 months who display any kind of ‘trans’ tendency to immediately have their reproductive gear removed and put into cold storage until… whatever. And furthermore, anyone who disagrees with this level of madness will be forced out of the Labour Party immediately. No room for talk, for argument, even discussion. Well, there’s nothing like ‘free speech’ in a civilised society. And that is ‘nothing like free speech’.

I despair. But as a heterosexual male love god, I apparently know NOTHING!

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

Sometimes its just nice to have validation. Sometimes you do things and you ‘just don’t care’, and others may be offended, but that’s life. Most of what I do or say will offend someone, I just hope that someone is the person I’m talking to or I’m not doing my job. Because offence is just an extension of disagreement and if everyone agreed all the time the world would be duller than… duller than… another nil-nil draw at Arsenal… duller than Brexit talks… duller than… Harry and Meg’s career move.

And to have something controversial validated by authority is a wonderful thing indeed.

The Oxford English Dictionary, no less, have changed the definition of the word ‘Yid’. It still means an offensive term aimed at Jews, a horrible word, a nasty expression. But now they’ve added ‘a player or fan of Tottenham Hotspur football club’. They’ve also added ‘Yiddo’ into the category as a sort of ‘pet version’ of an abusive phrase. As if you’re fond of the person you’re verbally abusing in a nasty but loving way, perhaps.

So thank you, OED, for the clarification we’ve been seeking for decades, for the validation of our name. And most of all, for the upset this has caused, is causing, and will continue to cause, to David Baddeil and a whole host of other supersensitive supporters of other London clubs, the fans of which stick to the strictly former OED definition and use it abusively, nastily and filled with hate.

Tottenham Hotspur football club have demanded ‘clarification’ from the OED because, basically, they suffer the fallout from their naughty fans and have never and obviously can never endorse the ‘y-word’ in any way shape or form. Even though that costs them probably 27.8 million quid a year in lost sales in the Spurs shop from the very potential of ‘yiddo’ merchandise.

So the OED say that’s not their job. They’re there to reflect language usage, not make judgments or political statements. If words are used other than in their intended origin that’s not their problem, they just tell you about it.

When used by Spurs fans there is absolutely no anti-semitism attached to the term. It is the opposite. Used with pride and is just a ‘je suis Charlie Hebdo’ thing. “I am Spartacus!” It is standing together with the Jews and becoming one, united, indistinguishable group. It is anti-anti-semitism, which is precisely how it began.

It is also one, single, solitary instance of fans getting one over on their club, the League, the lawyers and, of course, over David Baddeil. God bless the OED. Our God, their God, any god will do.

Happy Friday

A proud Yiddo
xxxx

So HS2 is going ahead. I would say ‘full steam’ but that’s so inappropriate, so 1874, so… downright wrong! Even though steam itself is clean and carbon-free, the coal used to produce that steam was a whole other kettle of pollution-ness. Those old choo-choo-puffers never spewed ‘steam’ out of their chimneys but DEATH!

Thus the new HS2 trains will be ‘lectric. And fast. Fast as fuck, in fact, as they whizz you to Birmingham in 45 minutes, Manchester in just over an hour. But wait! That’s just the start of things. From Manchester (which no-one wants to go to), you can link up to Crewe!!! How exciting is that? And Wigan! And all the way to Carlisle! The other link goes to Sheffield! And Darlington and all the way to Newcastle!!!

I can barely restrain my excitement and enthusiasm. At least 15 places that I never wish to see, all linked by a railroad I’ll probably never use, and all for 100 billion quid. Though by the time its completed, you know that’s going to be 200, or 500 (half a tril!!!) or more.

But then it’ll whizz people who do wish to do such traveling up there using so little carbon that they’ll almost have vegan status by the time they get to Harrogate. By Durham they’ll have turned into Greta Thunbergs. God help Durham.

Boris is big on ‘including the North’ into ‘England’ whereas before the last election, for most people, ‘England’ stretched only from Streatham to Pinner, Woodford to Richmond. And because, in a fit of Brexit-madness, the northern provinces all voted for him, this is the quid pro quo. Or, 100 billion quid pro quo.

What about the poor bastards cut off in Exeter? Norwich? Bristol? We’ll never (have to) see them again. Stuck with sloooooooooow trains and shitty roads, they’ll be cut off from all the ‘action’ in the rest of the land.

And that land will be different. According to the environmentalists our green and lush Island will become grey with concrete as HS2 quite literally steamrollers over all the villages and trees in its wake. Homes crushed, people moved, lives destroyed. The impact on wildlife alone has caused a new alliance between the rabbits, hedgehogs and worms, whose lives will never be the same again. Ironically the major cost, and major carbon problem, is because protecting the Chilterns means running a lot of the line through tunnels. Which are incredibly expensive. If they just flattened the hills it would be cheaper but apparently some people like them, so they’re staying.

Oddly, the Conservatives have spent a vast part of the last decade defending austerity and financial prudence. Yet Boris, so excitable, a bit like Lila, seems to be jumping (us) headfirst into massive projects at incredible expense. Spend, spend, spend. (Lila is 2-an-free-korters; Boris isn’t).

Happy digging

A xxxx

Korea.

And deservedly so? Is Parasite as good as 1917? Better than Once Upon a Time in Hollywood? A greater work than Joker? Who cares. It’s quite brilliant. And unusual in that it comes from a different culture, ie Korea rather than Hollywood, and it represents its culture, the good and the bad. Which is why its made such an impact, because it shows how (presumably) a lot of Koreans live. In poverty. Scraping a living with minimum wage, cash paid jobs, living from day to day. And it juxtaposes such people with the ‘other side’. The super-rich. Mansion-dwelling, urbane, teams of staff around them and luxury. And its funny. Really, cleverly, beautifully funny as the poor family struggles and becomes involved with the rich one in a fabulously almost-credible way.

That’s the first half. We’ll call that ‘the half before it all TURNS TO SHIIIIIIITTT!!! in a big way’. A very big way.

Because Parasite is a game of two halves. Lots of films are, but in an odd few those halves are markedly different in everything. Like Dawn to Dusk. Starts off as a hi-jacking, segues into a vampire movie half way through, as the director’s drugs kicked in.

Parasite is more subtle than that. Much more subtle. Yet shit and fans still combine in the inevitable way. And the last 20 minutes are quite shocking. In every way (no spoilers).

The characters are all brilliant. And brilliantly played. It makes its point too. Strongly. But not in any Corbynist way, more just pointing out the not so subtle differences in the lives of the two distinct classes in Korea. Even though both look the same. Albeit one a bit grubbier. And swear at each other more.

It’s about time America realised that there’s a whole world out there, some of them even making films. Some of which aren’t even comic book franchises!

Ya kind’a have to see it now anyway, because of all the fuss. But you won’t be disappointed. Unless you can’t read. Then you won’t have a fucking clue.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

It all started with a Samsung. As these things so often do (?) At some point I decided that I didn’t need an iPhone and acquired (cos you don’t really ‘buy’ them, in any meaningful sense) my first Samsung. I liked it. More importantly, Mel could use it. Like, most of it, without too much help. Which was an amazing testament to the facility of the Android system. Even a self-confessed technophobe can handle a Samsung phone. So we went Korean. And haven’t looked back. We’re now on 3rd or 4th upgrades over, maybe 10 years, and they do everything we need them too. Which may be way less than many people ‘need’ to do on their phones but we’re happy!

Then, in 2015, Spurs bought a player from Bayer Leverkusen. Son Heung Min. And after about 3 years of him being ‘that Chinky geezer’, or ‘a noriental bloke’, even the most die hard Spurs fan accepted that this fabulous and fabulously happy player who we all by then loved dearly, was in fact Korean. South Korean (the good bit) and in fact the captain of their national football team. Nothing at all to do with North Korea, with Kim Jong Un, with nuclear threats, nothing. Just a nice, smiley, goal-scoring SOUTH Korean. As a consequence of which, Spurs on match days is now a version of ‘Little Seoul’. Of Korea-town. They flock to White Hart Lane from as far away as Loughborough, Kettering and Milton Keynes to see and adore their national hero.

In 2016 a Korean movie re-made ‘the handmaid’s tale’, called The Handmaiden. It was a truly brilliant and beautiful film, remarkably so. And in fact started the international obsession with the book which followed. With a tv series (never seen it, no idea how they drag a wonderful story out to cover 19 seasons of 10 episodes each, but that’s tv), the re-launch of the book, the sequel, the prequel, with Handmaid’s tale-mania.

And then last night. The coup de gras. The night when South Korea finally found its place on the map. When the movie Parasite won the Oscars for best movie and best director. Both of which are Korean. It’s a forrin film. And never before has such a thing won anything at the Oscars other than ‘best forrin film’. To win ‘best film’ when it is sub-titled, non-American, non-English-speaking and downright slanty-eyed is positively humongous. YOU WANT DIVERSITY????? The Academy ‘shouted’, TAKE THIS MUTHA THEN!!!! I didn’t know that many Academy members could actually read that a sub-titled movie could win, but there ya go. I’ve underestimated that fine nation yet again. Not Korea, you don’t underestimate them, but America. Always truly worthy of underestimation.

I’m going to see Parasite tonight. In my defence I booked it yesterday BEFORE it won the Oscar.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

Tennis was abandoned this morning, before it started. Even though it was dry; the main and usually sole criteria for tennis playage round here, the winds were so strong that, although not totally ‘unplayable’, reduces playable to miserable. Cos balls swirling round is horrible and frustrating. And all because of storm Ciara. Why they had to pick a silly name for a ‘c-word’ I don’t know. Is it Ki-ara or Si-ara? They could have just used ‘Clive’. Colin. Cevin.

And as I ventured over to see Lila and Joey, I think ‘blustery’ was the word I’d use. Along with ‘horrible’ and ‘bollocks’. But still dry-ish, just sort of damp wind, nothing more. Then I came home, same again, having picked up all my local shop stuff. But forgetting the newspaper which wasn’t delivered this morning. Grrrrrr. So I popped my jacket back on and popped round to the shop, just a, quite literally, 2-minute pop away. Picked up the paper. And stepped out into Armageddon.

WTF??? The air was solid with water. Diagonal, hard, massive lumps of rain. I’m fine, I had my faithful Spurs hat. Ok, its wool, but how wet can it get in 2 minutes? The answer to which is the superlative of your choice. Mine is ‘totally fucking’. Along with my jacket (showerproof, not deluge-proof), my sweatshirt underneath, my trousers and even, best of all, my underpants. Only clean on last Tuesday but now ruined with soakage. Fortunately I’d had the presence of mind to bury the newspaper under all my layers before stepping into Hell, so Mel can read ‘YOU’ magazine when she comes in. As if nothing had happened. As if her devoted husband hadn’t risked life, limb and drowning to get the fucking thing. I HOPE SHE ENJOYS IT!!!!

Lila is fine. Joey is great. I arrived and Lila was at the window. Saw me and started jumping up and down waving her arms. A lot of people did this during my Elephant Man days and people who know me tend to do it anyway, just before running away as fast as they possibly can. But Lila’s reaction was pure. Was real. Was just Lila. In its most distilled form.

Saw a play last night. Ooooooh. A musical. Aaaahhhhhh. At the really sweet (but horrendously uncomfortable) Park Theatre in Finsbury Park. Called ‘Rags; the musical’ its the tale of Jewish migrants into America in the… 1920s? 30s?? And their plight. Set to music. Good music. And it was highly entertaining. Very funny. Tragic at times. Jolly at others. And at about 30 quid a ticket represents fantastic theatrical value. When to see any musical in the West End will cost upwards of 120 quid.

It was timed perfectly for people to watch the end of the rugby and get there in plenty of time. And watch it we did. And enjoyed England’s glorious, if brutal, win against the Scots. Who used to be the ‘Auld enemy’ but have promoted to the new one as well. Lucky we stuffed ‘em.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx