Andy's Glasses

I don’t want to talk about football. My team aren’t playing at the moment, so neither am I. That’s it. I cannot live in a loveless world. And there is no love at Spurs currently. Just what happens when a bunch of mercenaries that you delude yourself into thinking ‘love the shirt’, mainly because they’re always kissing it and, sort of, being loving towards it and to each other, decide instead that the financial implications of continuing that love may be counterproductive to their future potential earning power. So fuck ‘em all.

Instead we have so much to be happy and joyful about.

First and foremost we have the cricket and the incomparable Ben Stokes. Although there are comparisons. With Ian Botham, with Mohammad Ali, but whatever happens in the rest of this Ashes series, his name will be attached to it forever. Because the last wicket innings he played yesterday with Jack Leach was not merely the ‘stuff of legend’, not just ‘unbelievable’, but was an achievement of the absolutely impossible. I won’t bore you with a ball-by-ball account, because I didn’t see it. Not with my eyes. Just with my heart as I checked the score during the afternoon and felt the gradual deflation as our great start to the final innings reduced with each falling wicket to the seemingly impossible and the acceptance of another match lost. But Ben Stokes had other ideas. He’d started ridiculously slowly, by his somewhat audacious standards, scoring 50 in his personal slowest time ever. But that was what was needed. Calm. Sober. Solid. By the time Jack Leach came on for the last wicket, England still needed 73 to win. And Leach is no batsman, despite his score against Ireland. This was not Ireland. This was Australia. Who have the most vicious bowlers around. So Stokes first job was to keep the strike at all costs. Keep Leach away from those bowlers. That in itself takes amazing skill, understanding and discipline. But then, like the Incredible Hulk, Stokes suddenly exploded from his uncharacteristic conservative play and lashed out like he was in a one day match with 6 wickets still standing. And Stokes can hit. The Aussies missed catches, fucked up a ridiculous opportunity to run Leach out by dropping the ball, and ran out of reviews when one or two would possibly have ended the match in their favour. And then Stokes hit a four to end the Aussie’s suffering (not that we mind them suffering). And the rest is consigned to history.

The rugby was fab and then, if two days of (almost) amazing sport wasn’t enough, we went to see the new Tarantino last night. But more about that later. Gotta take a little person out to lunch. And she’s getting ready, preparing herself, beautifying, as they do.

Happy Bank Holiday Monday

A xxxx

Glasgow University is giving 20 million quid to the Caribbean to organise a ‘slave history’ centre at a university there. That’s the good bit. All donations are good, to worthy causes, and all advancement in education and academia is a good thing. So we’re happy about that. Its when they band abound terms like ‘reparations’, that it gets a bit more annoying. And all the guilt associated with the whole exercise which takes something noble and reduces it to something akin to paying a fee to have your carbon footprint reduced after taking a private jet flight. It don’t make the carbon go away, just makes you feel less guilty about it. Justifies it in some way. Makes it ‘all better’.

Well it doesn’t.

Glasgow University feels guilty because it was given very generous donations by men made very rich by the slave trade. Back in seventeen hundred and whatever. So now, 200 years later, they feel guilty about it.

There’s so much about the world ‘back then’ which, when viewed through the modern day prism of political correct values, was fairly disgusting, evil and rotten. How would post-modern feminism view the Neanderthal approach to courtship of bashing a woman on the head and dragging her back to his cave to rape her? Ahhh, but that was different… because… because… because values were different then, Neanderthals less evolved.

But evolution is not just dispensing with a tail and replacing it with a smart-phone. Its cultural, its based on societal values and the morals they create. The Spanish Inquisition was not a good time to be a Muslim. Nor an Anglican. Nor nuffink other than a Catholic. Torture, brutality, murder, all endorsed by church and state. The Crusades didn’t do much for international diplomacy either.

And slavery was not new. It goes back to biblical times (my bible was published in 1983, so certainly before then) and further back too in all likelihood. Conquering armies enslaved the people they beat. Invented the term ‘loser’. The only difference with the slave trade was that it was a commercial enterprise set up by horrible, rich white men, to kidnap entire villages and ‘sell’ them to (mainly) American farmers. Which is as vile as it is pure evil. When judged by today’s standards.

Back then the entire world view was different. ‘Uncivilised’ people, ie those of colour who didn’t speak BBC English, were seen as physically, mentally, culturally inferior. Science endorsed this view, created it, proved it empirically and thus justified an enterprise like slavery. Because science too was the exclusive domain of rich white men in ‘civilised’ Europe.

And it is ALWAYS wrong to make moral judgments of history based on today’s values. There are NO exceptions. I’m not saying in any way that the slave trade was anything but a massive and inhumane tragic disaster for countless African villages and countries, the consequences of which are still massive today as so many people quite literally ‘don’t know where they come from’. But you don’t have to feel guilty for the actions of men who were living at that time, with those particular thoughts and ideas.

So set up a slave history university, help those (by now) millions of people to trace their roots, if possible. But do it because you want to, not for ‘reparations’ and fucking guilt for something you had absolutely no control over.

Happy Sunday, more cricket, proper football and sunshine. Ahhhh…

A xxxx

Taylor Swift is in trouble. On her newly released album is a track about London. Her boyfriend is from London. In fact from just up the road in Highgate. So Taylor turns her lyrical flair to My city and her newfound love for it. Or for him. Or both. Gets a bit blurred with all that gushing post-teeny stuff. But the stories she tells about ‘a stroll in Camden Market’, and ‘trips to the West End’, are a bit wrong. No-one except school trips from Madrid and pickpockets from Romania goes to Camden Market. Its shit. As is pretty much the whole of the West End other than Fitzrovia and the odd parts of Soho that haven’t been tragically over-commercialised.

So in reply I’ve written a song dedicated to Tennessee, where Taylor moved when she was 14. And I too have tried to avoid the horrible stereotypes and clichés and stick to the truth. Its to tune of ‘Stuck in the middle with you’, that wonderful old Steelers Wheel song which, since being adopted in Reservoir Dogs, has never quite sounded the same again anyway.

Well I know they’re burning crosses tonight
I’ve got a feeling that some people here ain’t white
Its so good to see the flames flicker like strobes
As I stand here in my cone hat and robes

Nazis to the left of me, racists to the right
Here I am, stuck in the middle like a Jew

The country scene here is simply the best
The Grand Ole Opry and all of the rest
Nashville is the place for Good Ole Boys
While they’re wives have parties for sex toys

The other major industry here is incest
Sexual habits in Tennessee ain’t like the rest
We like to get it on with our wives
Daughters, cousins, sisters all our lives

Sister to the left of me, daughter to my right
Here I am, stuck in the middle of the two

Well its the Deep South that we’re talking
Confederate flags carried while we’re walking

Or stuck on the sides of the Chevy fenders
But man we don’t like Homos, poofs and benders

Plea-ea-ea-ea-ease… etc…

Happy Saturday, and apologies that due to the early hour of yesterday’s publication I may have cause to regret my misplaced optimism about the cricket. Deep regret.

A xxxx

And the sins of the fathers shall be suffered unto their… brothers?

Supposed to be sons, I know, but royalty does it different. So Harry gets in right royal storm over personally destroying the world’s atmosphere by jumping on a private jet and his brother gets the strongest punishment possible. William and family took a Flybe, cheapo, no-frills, no-crowns, scum-of-the-earth, bottom-feeding type flight to Edinburgh. All of ‘em. Wills, Kate and the kids. Flying like… like… like normal people!! Ok, they were met on the tarmac by a fleet of Range Rovers, obvs, but no passport control (I know, Edinburgh, but s’not the point), no keeping the kids from jumping on the baggage carousel because the luggage accidentally went to Glasgow and is being shipped over by horse-drawn carriage, ‘please wait patiently’.

But I want to know who paid for the flights. Elton John paid for Harry’s, we all know that, and the ‘carbon footprint’ fee bollocks, which is the non-Catholic version of ‘saying three Hail Marys and your sins will be absolved’. But who paid for Wills’ lot? £73 a ticket, bloody adds up for a family of 5 (possible discount for Little Louis cos he sits on the security guard’s lap). And you have to pay for extra leg room, a seat with a cushion, sandwiches and water, ‘Royal boarding’, and Range Rovers. Which, in full ‘bomb-proof’ mode, weigh about 5 tons and spew out about 3 miles-per-gallon’s worth of carbon on the way to the next Palace.

But a statement had to be made. So they probably told William; sorry mate, yer brother made a bit of a faux pas so you need to over-compensate by taking the family on a… on a… on a… cheapo airline!!! And suffer the humiliation, the ‘herding’, the lack of information, lack of niceness and lack of pretty much everything you haven’t paid for. Just like some people have to do pretty much every time they board a plane.

Jofra Archer is a god. The fastest fast bowler ever to play for England. He’s so good he bowls like a West Indian. Which is fair really because he’s from Barbados. So in the first Ashes test we got royally beaten up by Steve Smith, the Aussie’s talismanic run scorer. So in the second test Jofra knew what was required and he took Smith out with a bouncer to the neck. So now, for the third test, the Aussies have to play without their star and, to be honest, they are just not up to the task. So Archer took 6 wickets for 45 runs yesterday at Headingly. He’s 24 years old, totally brilliant, and ENGLISH as Prince Harry. Someone to be proud of.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

If Sadio Mane was racially abused for missing a penalty kick, I would blame ‘the good people of Liverpool’. But when its Paul Pogba of Manchester United who has been mercilessly hounded on social media, racially and horribly, for missing his penalty on Monday night, I have to blame the good people of Croydon, Hammersmith, Norwich, Stranraer and Bangkok. But whoever they are, wherever they’re from, it is just vile and disgusting behaviour which, to be honest, is nothing to do with the social media channels which are just vehicles for people’s thoughts. Even when those thoughts are vile and disgusting. And horribly racist.

That is racism. Pure and simple. And should be dealt with accordingly. Though who can do that ‘dealing’; the clubs, the police, instagram? is a more difficult question. And where these views come from, why they’re even part of anyone’s dialogue, that’s pretty interesting too.

If you call Pogba an idiot for taking the penalty in the first place, call him a tosser for missing it, call him anything you like about his attitude, his skills, that is not in any way racist. That’s what all footballers have to endure. The flip side of the 300,000 quid a week you earn to do your job in public view. You’re allowed to comment on such things, its almost your job as a fan. Particularly a disappointed fan. But the colour of the player under attack is completely irrelevant. Even white players miss penalties, so I’ve heard.

Similarly, calling out Prince Harry for being a bit of a nob over eco-friendly travel on a private jet is not racist at all. And yet that’s what its being called. Numerous people have gone public with their own attacks. Saying, basically, that any criticism of Harry or Meg is down to racism. Some stupid actress went further “why don’t you say what you mean; that you don’t like a black woman in the royal family!!!!” Meg’s best mate said pretty similar. That these ‘attacks’ on Harry & Meg (like mine on Tuesday) are just ‘racism’. Which is, obviously, complete bollocks. I love Harry and Meg. Especially Meg. But if you act in a hypocritical way, as Harry did, it is just stupid. And to NOT be allowed to mention it because he is married to a black woman would be racism in itself. Because it means that no non-white person could ever be criticised in any way as that would be racism. Even if you’re just commenting on the cakes he/she made on Bake Off.

The only way round the problem is to hold everyone of every colour in complete contempt, be rude to the lot of them, insult everybody, then at least you’re consistent and can’t be accused of singling any specific race/gender/religion for special treatment. That’s my approach. Other than the French, obviously.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

David Cameron’s legacy lives on. When, in a fit of UKIP-induced panic, the then Prime Minister announced Britain would have an ‘in/out’ vote on Europe, he caused, in that single moment, divisions in the land that may never be healed. This is our ‘War of the Roses’ for the digital generation. And it goes from bad to worse to… who the fuck knows?

But weird things are occurring. Labour is reinventing itself as the ‘remain in Europe’ party. Which is as opportunistic as it is undemocratic. As ‘we’ did vote to leave after all. Yet all the Labour big-wigs have come out this week to state that they want another referendum and they’d encourage voters to ‘stay’. McDonnell was the first, then Diane Abbott followed, probably unaware of precisely what she was talking about but at least it came out ok at the time. Emily Thornberry concurred, piling pressure on Corbyn to adopt the new party line, even though he’s a leaver and always has been.

Corbyn will do absolutely anything to get into 10 Downing Street. Climbing in through an open window at night would be fine. Just get in there. Even for 10 minutes or so before he gets arrested for breaking and entering. Thus his ‘plan’ to call a vote of no confidence in Parliament and become ‘interim PM’ just so we can have another general election and stop the ‘no deal’ situation from becoming manifest.

And you’d think that with a vast majority of MPs passionately against the no deal scenario, Corbyn would be onto a winner. Albeit a short-term winner. Because if parliament is dissolved, the logical ‘stand in’ would always be the leader of the opposition. Who, in this instance, should have no problem garnering the sufficient support because no-one really wants the no-deal nuclear option.

Then Jo whassername, the new leader of the Lib Dems said she would never put Corbyn in Downing Street. And suggested that Harriet Harman or Ken Clarke (what the f***??) should stand for the role as interim leader. Basically, easy as ABC, Anyone But Corbyn. MPs polled for the Times agreed basically that anyone but Corbyn would be preferable. As did the sample of plebs. Well, voters, like you and me. Therefore rendering the no confidence option as useless as Labour will hold the most votes and presumably won’t be allowed to vote other than with the party whip, to support Corbyn who has virtually no support from anywhere else. Though you can’t trust Nicola Sturgeon.

With the government in continuing self-destruct mode over Europe, it should be a great time for the opposition party. Apparently though, not for an opposition party run by a toxic, anti-business, Arsenal-supporting, anti-Semitic, communist tosser.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

Being ‘green’ is fine. Being a carbon-slob with no care nor consideration for one’s emissions is fine too. Its a free world. In which the only crime is hypocrisy. And the higher you shout and scream about any subject, the further you’re gonna fall when you’re shown to be guilty of the crimes you’ve been publicly lambasting. You can live as you like. But once you start preaching…

Take, f’rinstance, our very own Prince ‘Arry. The greenest royal of them all. Who took a private jet to attend the Green Summit in Sicily. Which is a bit like turning up at a vegan conference with a hamburger. He took another to Elton John’s party in Nice. And private jets are the betes noirs of the Green world. Planes trains and automobiles are all shit, but at least on a commercial airline the immense carbon output is divided by a few hundred people. On a private jet its the same emissions for a much smaller load.

Greta Thunberg, the preachiest little shit that Scandinavia has ever produced, is traveling to New York for some climate thing or other, and going by zero-emission yacht. All wind and sails and solar panels. At least she’s sticking to the plot. Even though on any scale of ‘annoying’ she goes totally logarithmic.

But Harry, who won’t have any more kids because of green issues, takes a Cessna to go to a party.

And up pipes no less than Sir Elton himself. Taking his knighthood as seriously as Sir Galahad, in defence of a Prince in distress. Elton paid for the plane. For ‘security reasons’, which just means that Harry hates standing in line with his shoes off and his belt in his hand at airports, just like a real human being. So Elton bought the flight, and here’s the best bit; to maintain Harry’s convictions about environment, Elton made the ‘appropriate contribution’ to ‘Carbon Footprint’, which ensures the flight was ‘carbon neutral’.

Oh, so I get it. You stuff 10 grand in used notes into the back of the jet engines and it purifies the exhaust and removes ALL the carbon. That’s brilliant.

Actually, you ‘donate’ funds to the organisation called Carbon Footprint who fund carbon reduction projects, thus rendering the 57 tons of carbon produced by your flight, ‘neutral’.

So the cost of your conscience is whatever ‘Carbon Footprint’ feel appropriate recompense for traveling in the most eco-unfriendly way possible. And you pay and you can stay right up there on your high horse of ‘carbon neutrality’. What a load of very rich people’s bollocks.

I make no judgments.

Happy zero emission Tuesday

A xxxx

The Palace would like to state, clearly and emphatically, that HRH Prince Andrew Windsor of… Royaltyland, was not involved in any way whatsoever with the dirty, sleazy and corrupt world of Jeffrey Epstein, May the Devil rest his soul. The recently produced video tapes of someone who looks a lot like Prince Andrew, standing at the door of Mr Epstein’s New York mansion as coach loads of underage children are bused in and out, is unsubstantiated and The Palace denies any involvement between the Prince and any little tarts or tartlettes that may have been present at the time. Furthermore, the Prince is a good man, except when he’s not and any photos emerging of the Royal Penis inserted or resting anywhere especially young or unsuitable will not be tolerated at all. I hope this is an end to the matter.

Sincerely,

THE FUCKING QUEEN!!!!! No less.

Then there’s Hong Kong. What we gonna do about Hong Kong?? They had a protest there yesterday and 1.7 million people turned up. Against the law, but they did anyway. And I know that in that part of the world 1.7 million people is just considered, like, a dinner party, or a barbecue with friends, but round here, that’s 1.7 million voters. 1.7 million disgruntled democrats desperate to keep out of Beijing’s grasp. Note the absence of Jeremy Corbyn, the world’s most prolific protester, from that particular demonstration. Because although he’ll march with absolutely anyone, for all manner of worthless causes, he has certain standards. He will NEVER march against Communists. Red Line. To go with the Red Book he still carries. And he won’t march against anyone who represent any form of terrorism. So although I looked at all 1.7 million faces there yesterday, Corbyn’s wasn’t among them.

The people of Hong Kong have enjoyed ‘special status’ as being part of China but not directly governed by it. Which has only been maintained because Hong Kong is a money tree which Beijing likes. But it also likes total control. And you can’t have that whilst they natives are banding about the D-word. ‘Democracy’. Whatever happens in the interim, there will sadly only ever be one winner in that battle.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

You can dream. You can hope. You can pray. None of which ever makes things happen the way you’d like. That’s why its called ‘the dream’, or ‘hope’. Because its unlikely to happen without a lot of luck. Or possibly outside influence.

And thus didst the Hotspurs of Tottenham trek to the great, wild northern reaches of Manchester, yesterday, to visit the fearsome force who occupy the little Islamic State of… The Etihad!!!! The force who just last weekend came to London and burst all the bubbles at the the Immorality Stadium to win 5-nil. Such are these soldiers. They take no prisoners.

So having won the League title twice running, they wanted to make their mark in their first home match of the season. Draw a line in the sand. And no Spurs fan was under any illusions that ‘they’re ours for the taking’ or any such bravado bollocks. We’d have happily lost 2-1, 3-2, anything but 7-0. Or worse. Because basically that is not an unrealistic outcome in that stadium. Where the pretty massive gulf between Manchester City and mere ‘normal’ clubs, even top 4 clubs (Spurs, not Arsenal), is a veritable Grand Canyon. We won’t get into the ridiculous overspending, breaking transfer rules, dodgy ‘sponsorship’ deals which write of hundreds of millions of pounds of debt every year. Nor how they got away with a 50 quid fine (relatively) for exactly the same ‘crime’ which for Chelsea resulted in a 12 month transfer ban. That would be out of context. Today. Tomorrow we may speak of it again. Depending on the how far Pep Guardiola chooses arguments of ‘unfair’.

And to break with tradition, I’ll be totally honest. Spurs were total shit. Didn’t start, didn’t come out to play, lacked direction, energy, played without a plan or a clue. And when they went a goal down after 20 minutes the only question was ‘why did it take that long?’ So when Eric Lamela scored an equaliser a couple of minutes later, in probably the crossing of the half way line for any Spurs player, only two words could suffice. ‘Fuck’. And ‘Me’.

Spurs went back into hiding and City scored again. But that didn’t rouse Spurs. Who had, since the start of the match, been in a total ‘rouse-free zone’. We sat back, took the endless onslaught and managed to get to half time still only 2-1 down.

The half time talk must have been in Spanish because it did nothing to improve Spurs, who steadfastly refused to play beyond ‘awful’. Then we won a corner. No idea how because we just hadn’t been that far up the pitch. And before the kick was taken Pochettino brought on Lucas Moura. Who walked on, took up position and headed the corner kick into the net, 10 seconds after his arrival. 2 shots on goal in an hour, 2 goals. Man City also had 2 goals, but from 15 shots. So they must be real shit.

We clung on and clung on, literally for grim death. But death didn’t come. Until the 92nd minute. When, only slightly reminiscent of our Champions League match at the same place just 4 months previously, City scored that ‘winning late goal’ and everyone went berserk. Until…

The referee gave the City fans and players and staff sufficient time to celebrate as if they’d just solved the world’s carbon crisis, then indicated that VAR was being deployed. As it is for every goal. And we all know, VAR is a Spurs fan. Probably Jewish. Possibly Israeli technology like so much hi-tech. And as with the Champions League goal, this one too was then disallowed.

I’m not saying I like VAR, cos I don’t. I’m not saying Spurs deserved to draw because we really, really, REALLY didn’t. I’m not saying that a total of 3 shots on goal in 90 minutes is good, no more than City’s 30 shots on goal was necessarily bad. All I’m saying is: THAT WAS MOST AMAZING, UNDESERVED, SPECTACULAR SINGLE POINT I’VE EVER SEEN GAINED BY A TEAM PLAYING APPALLINGLY AGAINST POSSIBLY THE BEST CLUB SIDE IN THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD.

That’s all I’m saying.

Happy Sunday, Pep.

A xxxx

If you think Brexit is funny, if you’re amused by Jeremy Corbyn’s stupidly facile attempt to slither his slimy way through the back door into Number 10, if you find Caroline Lucas’ ridiculous suggestion that she should be in charge of anything more important than a tv remote to be quite hilarious, then you should watch Its a Mad Mad World. Because its on tv TODAY! In fact by the time you read this you’ll have missed it. But rather than ‘tough shit!!’ you can get it on BBC iplayer. So it will have no adverts either. They used to show this movie every Christmas but then stopped. In about 1974. For some unaccountable reason. Because it is probably the finest American comedy movie ever made. And possibly my favourite of all movies. Except for… (long list follows).

Stanley Kramer directed a two-and-a-half hour comedy epic which was a who’s who of the top comedians of its day. Spencer Tracy was the straight man, and even he was pretty funny. Then came… everyone. From Sid Caesar to Phil Silvers, Ethel Merman to Jerry Lewis, Jimmy Durante to Dick Shawn (‘Hitler’ in Mel Brook’s original Producer’s movie). Buster Keaton was in it FFS. Milton Berle, Terry Thomas and the incomparable Buddy Hackett. Ok, its slapstick. To a degree. Its ridiculous, to a ridiculous degree. But Sid Caesar and Phil Silvers alone put the movie in the category of comedy royalty. I’m going to force Mel to watch it. Just after Match of the Day. She’s in for a treat.

So who said ‘you can’t get Steve Smith out’? The (former, disgraced, shameful, cheating…) ex-Aussie cricket captain has proved to be something of ‘the immovable force’ when at the crease. But the wonderful Joffra Archer found a way round that little obstacle by aiming a ball at the no-goodnick’s head. That got the bastard out. Obviously with lots of sympathy from me and all good English cricket fans. But a good concussion is as good as a middle stump in ‘the Gentleman’s Game’.

Then we have the rugby this afternoon, followed by, and overlapping, with Spurs visit to Manchester City. To ‘see how good they really are’. In case anyone has any doubts. It’s the only match of the year in which just ‘losing’ is a great result. Rather than getting thrashed, hammered, stuffed or buggered. But in fact I’m going to be very optimistic and say that we can beat them. On the grounds that… well, because… see, its all about… BECAUSE WE CAN, THAT’S WHY!!!! And we fucking will! Bloody overspending northern Abu Dhabis.

Come on You Spurs

Happy Saturday (oh, let it be so)

A xxxx