Andy's Glasses

Amazon started off selling books. Jeff Bezos’ brainchild was to discount book prices and deliver them to people’s homes. A noble idea and it was fairly successful. But not enough for the Bezos-es-iz of this world. So he ‘diversified’. And now is the richest man the world has ever known, without ever getting oil on his robes, and has ‘diversified’ into every possible sphere of home delivery. Which, we must all agree, he’s not too shabby at doing. But then you need to define ‘delivery’. Which in days of yaw meant a geezer in a brown jacket bringing you a parcel. But that was ‘that world’. This one is different. ‘Delivery’ now is how I get my books on my Kindle. And ‘delivery’ is how I tell Alexa all the secrets there are in my world. And in return she tells me how much rainfall there is in Patagonia in June.

And last night there was a new delivery. Football. Amazon delivered it to its streaming tv service. Only a few minutes behind because all those digitals had to be uploaded and downloaded again and although data actually transmits at the speed of light, the football played last night at Old Trafford must have actually been faster still to get such a delay.

So now we ‘go see movies’ that Netflix produce and show, in the lounge, and we ‘go to football’ in the same lounge. Or worse still, substitute ‘in the lounge’ for ‘on my phone’ and we’ve entered the world of the zombies. Just what society needs; more people looking for longer periods at their fucking phones.

It’s not that I resent this intrusion into my world by Jeff Bezos (who is American and thus BY LAW knows nothing about football) but it just further divides the pie. I get Sky Sports because 10 years ago it showed every football match played anywhere in the world at any time of day or night. Then they lost a few matches a year to a revolving cast of bankrupts and ne’er-do-wells starting with Setanta and ending up with BT. But because Sky were showing correspondingly fewer matches, they charged me more. Sounds fair.

And now, we have Amazon in on the game. They just want you to subscribe to Prime. Something I’ve managed to avoid whilst keep getting ‘free trials’ on quite a regular basis. But not last night. And as I’d missed 3/4s of the game anyway, I said I’d only give them £7.99 if they guarantee at least a draw for Spurs. And they couldn’t, even though they can guarantee virtually everything else in life, apparently.

The world is changing. Which is fine. But football???

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

I’m a terrible cynic when it comes to ‘statistics’. Not that maths doesn’t work, or is somehow ‘broken’, or I doubt the ability of statisticians to get the right answer, its just that I can’t help but ask certain questions. Like ‘who is paying for the statistical analysis?’, like ‘are they including all data, including that which is prejudicial to the sponsor’s desired result?’, like ‘in what world is a “probability of 5%” any kind of “proof” that the events are NOT just down to random chance?’ Loads of questions. All unanswered, ergo: my mantra: all statistics is bollocks.

And then they publish statistics which is so profoundly simple and right and intuitive that it rekindles my trust in… in… well, in this particular study and no others.

The link between ski accidents and alcohol. Because during the ski season, (ie when there’s snow somewhere), 1000 Britons alone get injured in accidents every fucking day. That’s not statistics, just a fact. A quite amazing and very scary fact. Does this mean that we, the Brits, are just shit skiers? And that the French only suffer 22 accidents per day, the Germans 37 (poorer style than the French) and the Italians only 17 because they seldom leave the bar/restaurant and actually go anywhere? They didn’t actually issue national comparisons, those numbers are mine and hence pure, intentional bollocks.

They had experienced skiers do a ‘run’ on a simulator. Then they plied them with alcohol and had them repeat it. And guess what? Bet you can’t. Big surprise: after boozing the same skiers were 43% more likely to have an accident. Holy shit! Who could have imagined that? A big enough number to be well beyond dispute.

And yet loads of skiers have a drink at lunchtime. Beers with their chips. Wine with their pasta. Shots of limoncello with more shots of other, less medicinal booze.

A third of people questioned stated that ‘alcohol makes them a better skier’. Just like it makes you a better driver. Better dancer. A person more in control. Yet statistics might claim otherwise. No-one uses the expression ‘one for the road’ any longer.

The odd thing is that in ‘Europe’ (real, mainland, foreign, ‘over there’, Europe) where they have a different relationship with alcohol to the Brits (everyone on the planet has a different relationship than the Brits), you see your ski instructor take his morning espresso with a brandy. His lunch with three bottles of red. If he stops for another coffee it will always be accompanied by hard liquor. And he skies like Jean Claude Killy all day. Though he was probably pissed all day too. By comparison, Eddie the Eagle, didn’t drink at all. Hmmmm…

So I hate statistics when they get it right. Because it just takes away our fun.

Happy dry Wednesday

A xxxx

I’m an old fashioned kind’a dude. I make tea with leaves. I drive cars with petrol. And I watch films on a cinema screen. In fact, I’m a fucking dinosaur. So I was shocked on Sunday when I heard from two people in the space of a few hours that they’d both watched ‘The Irishman’, the new Scorsese Movie with the biggest cast of superstars since… since FOREVER!!!

Both of these guys are age contemporaries of mine and yet chose to watch a film… at home!!! A new, multi-zillion pound/dollar/lira/zloty film, made for the BIG screen, and they streamed it on Netflix, who produced the movie, and watched it at home. Probably on their TVs but possibly on a computer, an iPad, or worst of all, on a fucking phone. You can’t even fit Robert De Nero’s shoulder pads on the new iPhone 11 (with a big screen). You can’t get the mania of Joe Pesci concentrated into a device designed for taking pictures of Joey. You might catch some of Al Pacino’s acting but you’d miss all that trademark over-acting, which we love and revere.

“Do you get Spurs playing Liverpool in your back garden??” I should have asked but lacked the speed of thought. Or in Jonathan’s case: “do you get Arsenal playing Ujpest Dosza in your back garden??” Do you go on holidays to the travel agent’s office?? Go to work on a cycling machine which is fixed to the floor of your man-cave???

It’s all a matter of ‘the experience’. I love going to see movies because you have to make an effort. And the popcorn’s better. But a bit more expensive. The only films I watch on tv are Terminator (1 and 2) and Kill Bill (1 and 2). Because they’re so fab that compromising the medium is acceptable and enables me to re-live the cinematic version I experienced the first time I saw them.

But the reality is that everything changes. People on the tube sit there watching recorded tv shows, films, sport, on their phones, I see them every day. Whilst Dinosaur Man sits there doing a crossword puzzle on his broadsheet. I should wear a bowler hat.

And thus movies ‘evolve’ into a more multi-media framework. And as a lot of people already stream movies and watch them on dvds this is just the logical extension. Which is why this is the first movie, despite the director’s pleas to the contrary, NOT made for the cinema screen. In fact Netflix chose to ignore the long-standing ‘window’ of exclusivity for movies to be shown on screens before releasing them on other media. This one went ‘straight to stream’ other than a measly 2 weeks. Because if a film isn’t shown in the movie theatres it can’t be nominated for Oscars. This was a film whose massive investment was never intended to be recouped by the normal ‘bums on seats’ model. This one was made to increase subscriptions.

Where will I go to see films when all my lovely cinemas have closed due to inactivity? I’ll have to find a phone box that sells popcorn.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

I’ve just watched the Jeremy Corbyn interview with Andrew Neil. I’ve seen bits and pieces of it before but never watched it all. And its wonderful. And terrible. And awful. And brilliant. And hilarious. And depressing. Not forgetting predictable.

AN: “you’re an anti-Semite, Mr Corbyn, with thousands of cases in your party of reported anti-semitism which began with the start of your leadership”

JC: “I’m opposed to all forms of racism”

AN: “there’s film of you beating up a rabbi, repeatedly hitting him in the head with your copy of ‘Das Kapital’”

JC: “I’m opposed to all forms of racism”

AN: “You’ve constantly made friends with Islamist leaders who are sworn to the destruction of Israel and death to all Jews, and been seen singing ‘throw the Jew down the well’ at a party while dressed as Osama bin Laden, another Arsenal fan”

JC: “I’m opposed to all forms of racism”

AN: “so will you apologise to the Jewish community for seemingly enabling a culture of anti-semitism in your party?” ***

JC: “I’m opposed to all forms of racism” ***

(*** = repeat 4 times).

Then yesterday his party launched its race and faith manifesto. About how a divided nation is a bad nation, how all races, creeds, religions, orientations, colours, however diverse or minor, will be treated equally under a Labour government (heaven forbid). And they named each and every single minority that could ever possibly exist, and many which couldn’t (single-parent, cross-dressing, Lithuanian hermaphrodite Seventh Day Adventists). But no mention of ‘Jewish’. Not at all. Which might be a bit odd in normal circumstances, but in the current climate of fending off anti-semitism claims from every direction, you’d’a kind’a thought… someone might have just… the really long-trucked elephant in the room…

And I really hate both parties (there are only 2, despite what Jo Swinson bangs on about) blaming the other for the prison issues which resulted in Friday’s terrorist attack. “It was the bit YOUR government did in 1986…”, “yeah but YOUR government failed to amend it in 2003…” It’s a systemic failure and petty squabbling like they’re in the fucking playground is demeaning. And pathetic. And nauseating. And inconsiderate. And horrible.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

Spurs kicked off at 3 o’clock yesterday afternoon. What an odd time for a game of football. But it happens. And in fact remains the only part of our national game that remains outside the control of various tv companies. So in protest I went to the V&A. Because I’m cultured. Sophisticated. Metrosexual. And because I like fast cars.

The V&A have a new exhibition about cars. ‘Accelerating into the modern world’. How car design helped shape our society. That’s what it says on the posters. So I accelerated in there, eager to see how our finest museum (their recent exhibitions, from Bowie to Dior, have ranged from ‘outstanding’ to ‘fucking mind-blowing’) handled one of my favourite… things. Cars. Old cars. I was excited. (Spurs were 1-0 up before we even entered the building, so it was looking better every second).

But what a disappointment. There’s a beautiful E-type jag outside the entrance to the Cars bit and you think ‘wow!’ Cos its beautiful. And obviously a perfect one. Even though it was left-hand-drive, which for some reason bothered me. My brother-in-law has one just as beautiful and his drives on the proper side. He would have lent it to them, I’m sure. It’s not like he’d drive it in December.

And you enter to a jet-powered, 1950 ‘Firebird’ which is gorgeous. Next to Carl Benz’s first ever car and behind that a wonderful Mustang GT. Old one. And… and…

And that was pretty much it really. (Spurs were now properly 2-0 up, after the first 2-0 was downgraded back to 1-0 by VAR). Ok, they had this Messerschmidt three-wheeler which I’ve loved forever. And they had a 1945 Beetle (Hitler’s favourite car and about 300 million other people’s favourite too). But it was a small exhibition. Like, 20 minutes in total, reading all the info shit. Which wasn’t enough. Insufficient detail. I wanna know the engine size, the gear ratio (whatever that is), the number of cylinders, the fuel consumption and how many miles a 1932 Model T can do before you have to plug it in. But they didn’t tell you. (3-nil up, Sissoko scored. SISSOKO scored!!!!!! He NEVER scores, Jose was then more impressive than a 1947 Hispano-Suiza).

There was no Mini. Like a proper, old, original Mini. No Morris Minor. No 1955 Cadillac with fins the size of garden sheds and 16 acres of chrome. Not one Ferrari. No Bugatti Veyron. Not even a Prius which, for a lousy piece of Japanese shit, is both the reflection of society’s current needs and also the forerunner of popular electric cars.

And my disappointment was matched by Bournemouth then scoring a goal. And then another. So, just like last week, we were clinging on desperately to a match that in theory was done and dusted within an hour. However, once I saw our goals… oh my but we looked pretty.

If the V&A did an exhibition of Jose Morinho’s finest things, those goals would have been there. That and whole bunch of parked buses.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

So how’d that go then? Letting Usman Kahn, convicted of terrorism charges, out of prison ‘under license’, wearing a digital tag, because he’d been ‘de-radicalised’? How’d that go?

I’ll tell you how it went; the obscene fucker stabbed 5 people, randomly, killing two of them, and then incurred the wrath of London. Or, more specifically, of Londoners. As he was attacked by 5 or 6 incredibly brave people who basically said to him: ‘you can just fuck off with your stupid violent ideology, we do not fear you or twenty people like you’. And they held him down, just long enough for the police to arrive and shoot him dead. Which I originally thought was a bit much, then I learned he was wearing a bogus suicide vest. And you only know its bogus when it doesn’t go off, so best not take chances.

Fleet Street lit up with police lights and we were deafened for about 10 minutes by sirens, bells and whistles as the emergency services sped to London Bridge. But we didn’t know that. All we know was it became really noisy and ‘something had happened’.

But how had it happened? How is it possible to misjudge a person so greatly as to imagine he’d been ‘cured’ of his radicalisation when in fact he was still the same fucked up scumbag he was when he entered prison all those years ago.

In the same way that if my freedom depended upon it, I could pass myself off, really convincingly, as a devoted and loyal Arsenal fan, shedding real tears when talking about Wenger, getting excited about Mezut Ozil at least one day in 30, expressing my incredible relief at the departure of Unai Emery. I could do it easy. I could pass the lies and no-one could see the join.

So how do these people think that they can not only ‘de-radicalise’, but also tell that the process has been a total success? The answer, as Usman Kahn has now proved, at a great fucking cost, is that you just can’t. There is no way.

The only surprising thing about the whole horrendous episode is that Jeremy Corbyn almost condemned the action, rather than the shooting, which is what I’d expected, after he’d lost a definite vote in the upcoming election. He didn’t even blame America for invading Afghanistan, our army for atrocities in Iraq or Israel, just for being there. As Ken Livingstone did after the 7/7 attacks.

What a fucked up world.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

What constitutes a ‘safe job’ in football management? Actually, there isn’t one. Mauricio Pochettino was the 22nd sacking this season of a club manager (across all the 4 divisions). The first was Sol Campbell, ironically, given rumours, by very optimistic Arsenal fans, that Poch my cross ‘the divide’ and assist their blighted, beleaguered… buggered club. Sol was sacked by Macclesfield Town in September. Not sure how bad a manager you need to be to achieve that. Let that be a warning to Poch!!! Not sure why.

But with Arsenal’s loss last night in what should have been a fairly routine home match against Eintracht Frankfurt, Unai Emery (happy, Jonathan!!!) has had his status altered from ‘dead man walking’ to ‘gone in all but the physical action of leaving’. The match was played in front on a huge crowd (Mr & Mrs Hopeful of Stirling Way, N14 and their son, Nigel) because the weather was awful and most Arsenal fans are ashamed to be seen in kit traveling by tube on a Thursday. But it was also a ‘protest’. And in that they are right. Their team are shit. Much like ours was until God arrived in the form of the modest and special Portuguese saviour.

Before you start feeling sorry for the ‘poor managers’, do remember that they have cast iron contracts and when they leave they take all their contracted earnings with them. Morinho alone must have made 50 million quid on sackings alone. He arrives, he wins things, he crumbles, he gets sacked, he goes to the bank with a big smile.

Everton desperately need a new manager, Watford are in dire straights and there are many in precarious positions. And its not about winning matches. Not totally. The manager is at risk when the players stop playing. They can still win the odd match, as Spurs did, but the spark goes, the passion leaves. They no longer give a shit about ‘the shirt’ which three weeks prior they were kissing as if it was Jesus himself.

But its not about Jesus. This is football. It’s much more important than anything religion can offer. And the managers are the ones who keep it ticking along, keep their ducks in a row and try as they can to maintain cohesion and camaraderie in a group of arrogant, ignorant divas who mistake having fourteen different Range Rovers with having intelligence.

I should feel for Emery. But instead find myself smirking in a way that makes me ashamed. I hope Unai stays all season, if not longer.

I am a bad person.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

This cockerel is nothing to do with Tottenham Hotspur. Ok, it looks like our cockerel but its not. Probably a cousin. Great-grandfather. From Nigeria. But as any cockerel will undoubtedly and immediately catch my eye in that ‘conditioned stimulus’ kind of way that dogs react to slabs of meat, I read the tale of the ‘Okuko’, this bronze statue thingy which for for a century and more sat in Jesus College, Cambridge. In the dining room. Which is a bit sad in an ironic way, but they never thought of that.

What they thought was, I’m an imperialist warmongering Brit, doing Queen Vic’s work on the savages, barbarians and ungodly natives in faraway lands, I’m gonna nick this chicken and give it to Cambridge University. The Nigerians don’t need it no more, we’ll give them religion instead. Ok, and a bit of rape and pillage, but we mean well.

So inevitably, there was outrage when students found out this was originally from Benin City and demanded its return to ‘its people’. As if this little unspectacular chicken held the meaning of life for the entire African continent.

They complained that said cockadoodle glorified Britain’s colonial past. And demanding the removal of such items of our nation’s former ‘glories’ is all the vogue at Oxbridge. At Oxford they demanded the removal of Cecil Rhodes statue because of his links to slavery. Even though the legacy of the man is still there, providing bursaries and scholarships for brilliant kids who otherwise wouldn’t be able to attend such an incredible seat of learning. Bill Clinton was a Rhodes scholar so you obviously don’t have to be that bright. But Cecil Rhodes!!! BASTARD FACIST IMPERIALIST SLAVE-MASTER!!!!

In Scotland they’re making ‘reparations’ because the governors who set up some university there in 1700-and something were bankers who had links to slavery. As did virtually all banks back then.

Everywhere has a past. Everywhere has a history. Judging that history by today’s quite often ridiculous standards of political correctness is wrong on every level. Even vile things like slavery and the brutality of imperial invasion happened. You can’t deny it and you can’t undo it. It’s a past we’ve hopefully learned from. So why try and erase it from our present? That represents just so much bollocks. In my simple mind.

So they want to return everything stolen in every war, battle and invasion. Good luck with that. How about also removing the horrendous ‘Christianity’ that was so often forced down the throats of the ‘unenlightened’? Oooooh, that’s controversial.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

The Pope’s in Tokyo. Catch a flight now and you can see him. Though he’s very popular there and you might not get in. Because there’s 600,000 Catholics in Japan. Which is quite a few. But out of a population of 125 million that’s less than half a percent of the people. But because Japan was never part of any European ‘empire’ or invaded by the Spanish, French or Portuguese, it was never Catholicised. So the other 99.5% of the population follow Shinto and Buddhism. The ‘less demanding’ of religious pursuits. ‘Home grown’ religion. Where there are no ‘holy days’, they don’t demand your presence every week, there’s no flagellation and guilt and the priests aren’t all child molesting weirdos. I like that. There are just shrines. And if you’re going to an interview, an important meeting, anything special, you just stop off, drop a few coins in (charity’s good) and offer a prayer. To whom exactly, I don’t know. But a massive proportion of Japanese follow these simple and quick little rituals very regularly. It’s a cross between religion and superstition. As are most religions.

My religion is much more demanding. It makes me eat chopped liver every week. And challah (literally the bread of God, because it tastes like He bakes it Himself using only ingredients available in heaven, Daniels and Rinkoffs). And my religion also makes me hate Jeremy Corbyn. Though to be honest I think I’d still hate him if I was a Hindu, Muslim or Zoroastrian. Though I think its easier to hate him as a Jew. Especially now the Chief Rabbi himself has made it open season on Corbyns and all other anti-semites.

It’s unheard of for a Chief Rabbi to make political statements. Particularly of a precise and specific nature rather than something wishy-washy and general. And this Chief Rabbi, unlike his predecessor and some others, is not a ‘player’. He’s a lovely, calm, quiet and witty man, full of spirituality and love. He doesn’t have ‘an agenda’. He’s not looking for a seat in the Lords, or at Lords even, that’s not what he’s about. So should he speak out as he did? As a spiritual and religious leader, is political comment and, basically, voting advice, beyond his remit? Crossing a line??

No. It’s not. The only thing it is really is preaching to the converted. Because 85% of Jews would apparently not vote for Labour because of Corbyn. I’m seriously curious about the other 15%. I’d like to meet them and talk to them, possibly hit them with large objects.

Andrew Neil last night asked Jezza if he’d like to apologise for the anti-semitism, whether down to him or his party, which has caused such distress, has been hateful, hurtful and nasty, and which has made his party an unsafe place for Jews, particularly Jewish women. In fact Andrew Neil asked him four times if he’d like to say sorry. And four times The Dipstick instead uttered his worthless and stupid mantra about how ‘the Labour Party is no place for racists and anti-semites!!!’ Which remain meaningless and unsubstantiated sound-bytes. It’s like Prince Andrew saying he’s opposed to underaged sex and people who can’t remember things.

The Battle continues.

Spurs came back from being 2-nil down against Olympiakos to win 4-2. That’s amazing. That’s incredible. That’s… Jose? Are we feeling the love yet? Hmmm, jury’s out.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

Well I’m sorry if I’m late today, Jesus! So you had to read the newspaper on the tube instead, big fucking deal! I’m not solely in charge of your morning reading matter, I have RESPONSIBILITIES. Even if I’m consistently the most irresponsible person I know. Not the point. You’re important, but when I get a call to see if I can take Lila to school due to ‘logistical difficulties’ then I’m out the bleedin’ door in a second! Then I return, put my shoes on, possibly a jacket, and I’m off again. LILA NEEDS MEEEEEEEE!!!!!

I call it ‘school’. She’s two and a half and its probably just ‘nursery’. But she’s clever. Recognises all her letters and numbers and can perform simple calculus on the binomial expansion. While she’s watching Pepper Pig. And she can speak french. Well, she can say ‘croissant’. Fluently.

So this morning I became a ‘school-run-mum’. It’s easy. I swapped Mel’s Mini for a 19 seater Hummer, took it down all the roads it doesn’t fit into, ran over 4 cyclists, 9 pedestrians and three policemen, parked RIGHT OUTSIDE THE UNIVERSITY ENTRANCE (I’ve upgraded her again), on a triple yellow line, across a zebra crossing, with people on it.

I could have taken an Uber. But this morning they lost their license to operate in London. Ok, it wasn’t ‘with immediate effect’ but I like to obey the letter of any law COMPLETELY.

Because I believe in Transport for London. TFL. I believe that even though they are the same company which licenses, controls and sets fares for black cabs, Uber represent ‘no conflict of interest’ to them. They’re bigger than that. They’re above that. And are only concerned about our ‘safety’.

Because Uber employ men to drive. Well, not ‘employ’ in the usual sense… and you can’t trust men. Even though a vast majority of Black cab drivers are men too. They’re different men. More… womanly? more… gentle? (ever met a taxi driver??) And although Uber do stringent checks on all their drivers, as do Hackney Carriages, Uber’s don’t count because…

And furthermore, the argument that ‘my daughter can’t afford taxis coming home from a club at 4am but gets Ubers all the time’ is just not something TFL consider anything to do with ‘safety’. These daughters can get the night tube. Which, when it runs, would leave them just a 3 hour walk from home. And its perfectly safe. Drunk men, when not vomiting, are notoriously safe travel companions for any young woman. Or they could save up for a few months and get a ‘proper taxi’ home.

So ‘we’ (and I speak for all of London here; well, at least the 3 million Uber users among us) are happy that TFL are looking after us so carefully and concerned with our safety. And understand that such decisions are not in any way made because neo-Corbynite Sadiq Khan just hates high-value, American start-ups. Nothing about that at all.

Well done TFL.

Happy Monday

A xxxx