Andy's Glasses

I was going to tell you today of my day with The Brutalist yesterday (and ‘day’ it is, no ‘shortie’ that movie) but then… events!!! occurred which are simply too overwhelming to ignore or delay. Its all a matter of priorities, as ‘the legend’ told me, and as, (according to him), he’s never wrong, we shall instead discuss ‘the day the world was put right again’. Other than the cricket. Can’t have it all. Some may even comment ‘how has the world been corrected whilst Donald Trump has not yet been sectioned under the mental health act?’ When Ukraine is still being bombed? Whilst there are still hostages in Gaza? Terror attacks in France and Germany? Rachel Reeves in Number 11??

But life is about compartmentalising. And I choose a different compartment for items of such sporting wonderment that their uplifting effect transcends the horrors of ‘the real world’, even if just momentarily. So let’s hold that moment. Shall we? (I’m aiming for ‘really patronising’ with that question. All rhetorical questions are patronising. Aren’t they?)

I can hold it no longer: Spurs were just BRILLIANT yesterday. And with that win made it 3 in a row in the league for the first time since about 1832, if you listen to all the fuss everyone’s making. As if we’re NOT a team who wins 3 in a row all the time. Ok, perspective alert!!!, we played Ipswich. Who are fucking hopeless. They weren’t so hopeless when they beat us a few months ago as we managed to out-useless them on that day. But not yesterday. We let them hold the title. Although there were a few shocks early on. We survived that opening salvo and showed the pure class which comes with being a ‘big team’. Sometimes. Even Ed Sheeran couldn’t hold the tide of attacking quality. Brennan Johnson grabbed a pair, beautifully assisted by the amazingly resurgent Son. Kulusevski, our best player of the season, grabbed a super solo effort and my fave new player of all, Djed Spence, scored his first. Ipswich scored one, but we can handle that.

I’m not the sort of person who would then take pleasure in the fact that Arsenal and Chelsea both lost yesterday. It would almost be inhumane to mention the devastating blow that West Ham caused at the Emirates. Similarly, mentioning that Chelsea losing anywhere, any time, to anyone, can only benefit humanity in general and re-set the feng shui in the entire universe, might be seen as malicious or spiteful. Even though we all fucking hate them anyway.

We’ll all remember this weekend as the one in which Spurs beat Ipswich and Liverpool won the title.

And don’t forget the rugby. England 1 point ahead in the 79th minute after Scotland scored a try. So the 2-point conversion was literally ‘win or lose’ for the Scots. Ok, not saying any kick is ever easy, was pretty wide, but on the kicker’s ’right side’ for a right footer. No pressure then. But, much to the upset of 84,000 English-persons at Twickenham, he missed. England won. The Calcutta Cup returned to its rightful home and thus did the stars align yet further.

So many good things happening I’m seriously waiting for Jesus to return this week. Again.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

So Zelensky said that Trump lives in a world of disinformation, so Trump called him a ‘dictator’ and accused him of ‘starting the war’ and so Starmer (as if anyone even listened to him outside of our sceptered Isle) sided with Zelensky, and Trump is left sucking up to Putin and I think we’re on the verge of World War 3. And you know how I hate sequels. World War 3: Eve of destruction! (Tax deduction…)

But worst of all, no-one’s fixing the pot-holes on the East End Road.

It’s in a terrible state. Driving down there in what Joey calls ‘the racing car’, which has super ‘low profile’ tyres, I feel every bump up every single vertebra in my spine. Then up to my head and out the top, rattling my poor, aging brain on the way. None of which bothers me as much as the dread of blowing a tyre. Ok, the dread of paying for another tyre.

So I’m going to write to Donald Trump and Volodymyr Zelensky, Kier Starmer, Angela Rayner, Vladimir Putin, Benjamin Netanyahu, Elon fucking Musk and Sheik Mohammed bin Salman. As they’re deciding the future of every man, woman and child on the planet, let us at least contemplate our few remaining days of peace on roads which don’t shake the shit out of cars and drivers. Otherwise, what kind of world will we be left with after the war?

Musk has now in fact steamed in with his own little diatribe on Zelensky, the seeming, “America’s Enemy Number 1!!!”, reinforcing Trump’s accusation of being a ‘dictator’ because he’s cancelled elections. Funny they have no problem dealing with Putin, whereas Zelensky gets the full wrath of the nation. For cancelling elections due to a shit-load of bombs and a nation at war and under martial law.

For Musk’s boss, The Trumpster, you need look no further than ‘what’s in it for us?’, to understand that America wants Ukraine’s vast wealth of natural resources; minerals and ore of massive value in computer chips, armaments, everything. You can dig a hole anywhere in the country and come up with a shovel full of lithium or titanium. And Trump wants it as ‘payback’ for all the money and arms the USA ‘gave’ Ukraine to fight what was then ‘the common enemy’ but is now ‘my best mate’.

I fully expect to see Elon Musk on East End Road within the next 7 days with his own shovel. Not the ‘diggin minerals’ one, but the ‘repairing pot-holes’ one. Otherwise I’ll never vote for him again!!!

Let’s not forget the plight of the common man in all this global insanity.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

Donald Trump was right on the money. As always. This whole Ukraine thing is their own fault. Why didn’t we see that? How could we be so sympathetic to their horrendous plight, their massive death toll, forced mass migration and the bombing of all those cities? When it was all Ukraine’s fault!! It was obvious, all along. In the great man’s words: “they should’a dunna deal 3 years ago, would’a saved all that ruination, all those lives…” And he’s right. All Zilenski had to do was stroll up to the 200,000 Russian soldiers massed on his border, fully armed, tanked up, droned to the max, loaded and cocked, and just say “hey, Comrades! Maybe we can do a deal!”

And then there’s the little question of ‘negotiation’ and ‘capitulation’. By just telling Putin that he can have everything he wants is not ‘negotiation’. It’s not ‘doing a deal’. It’s called getting screwed. Royally. And giving in. To the demands of a sociopathic, paranoid, land-grabbing dictator.

Trump said that ‘Europe’ will have to put some boots on the ground in Ukraine ‘after the peace’ (no presumptions in his world, then), but ‘Europe’ is not involved in the ‘peace talks’ (otherwise known as ‘Russia’s shopping list’). Nor, oddly, is Ukraine. Who will presumably be presented with the final shopping list for signing. Yup, there’s the land you’ve stolen, take a bit more, we’ll NEVER mention NATO…

Whereas Sergei Labrov, Russia’s foreign minister, and unquestionably ‘bastard number 2’, though I sort of like and admire his quirky, no nonsense style, but wouldn’t invite him for dinner, he said: ‘there must be NO troops in Ukraine from Europe or the US. That’s a red line” Oh.

Starmer’s already polishing the boots of our Marines in preparation, and has elected himself (no-one else would elect him; last time was enough for anyone) as the de facto ‘leader of all Europe’ in dealings with Trump. Which means however Trump capitulates to Putin, thus will Starmer capitulate to Trump. But there’s no-one else in Europe capable of being Trump’s lap-dog over here. Germany’s in election time, Spain doesn’t count and everyone hates Macron.

The problem is that Trump has validated Russia. Having been outcasts from the international community since they invaded, the US have now given them total acceptance and credibility. All those sanctions, all those Russian bank accounts frozen, all those football clubs sold off (well; Chelsea), all gone in a single misguided, incorrect and stupid sentence uttered from the Great Orange One, blessed be he.

Well my boots will be on the ground in Ukraine! Metaphorically speaking, obviously…

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

I just love football. All that rubbish and complaining and misery I’ve been talking about lately has suddenly been put into the perspective of ‘historical blip’ as we sauntered to a stunning win yesterday at White Hart Lane, showing we now have a pretty good chance of winning the league. As long as certain events take place. Like the mass murder of the entire Liverpool team, including the reserves. The whole Arsenal team to be put immediately onto the sex offenders register and thus banned from the team. And in a terrible act of terrorism, a bomb lands on the Etihad one day when everyone’s there, except Pep Guardiola, who immediately signs a 5 year deal with Spurs.

Not sayin’ all that’s going to happen (God forbid!!!!?) but it could. And then we’d brush aside these ‘arrivistes’ like Brighton and Bonemouth and Northampton Forrest or whatever they’re called and CLAIM OUR RIGHTFUL PLACE!!!!

Well, we didn’t just ‘win a match’ yesterday, we beat… (drum roll)…Manchester United!!
WHAAAAATTT???? MANCHESTER UNITED??? THEY’RE THE BIGGEST TEAM IN THE ENTIRE WOOOORRRRLLLLDDD!!!!!

Well, they were. Once. Long time ago. Now they too have succumbed to Relegation-Fodderitis. Its a disease which affects teams, particularly those with any kind of glorious past, however (fucking) distant that past may be, and turn them into a team of no-hope, headless-chickenesque losers. There’s sadly no cure for this disease, just a temporary fix. A ‘sticking plaster’. Which is the immediate application of Sam Allardyce for at least 3 months. Though this comes with a serious side-effect, as all medications do, of ruining any kind of stylish football, and turning the ‘beautiful game’ temporarily very ugly and pragmatic. It appears, to all intents and purposes, that your entire team has been re-born into the Italian league. Its that bad. Yet, to stay in the top flight is so essential that no sacrifice is too great.

In the battle of the clueless, we ‘thrashed’ them, 1-nil. We created soooooooo many chances which… we chose not to take. For various reasons. None of them relating to abject incompetence or horrendous profligacy. How dare you!?!

But it feel sweet. A home win. A clean sheet. Ahhhhhh, I’m living the (slightly deluded) dream. And lovin’ it.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

Went to see the Bob Dylan movie last night. Complete Unknown. Quite frankly, it’s brilliant. And that’s without hearing a word spoken. Timothy Chalomet spoke just like Dylan, whiny mumble. He sang like Dylan too. Whiny mumble. But those words I knew, well most of ‘em. But the dialogue? My hearing’s almost as bad as Bob’s speech. And the denouement, not in the film but in the hard-to-hear, was his conversation with Johnny Cash, (deep whiny mumble). I’m sure it was an interesting one. I’ll never know.

But the movie was such fantastic picture of America in the early 60s and its values. How Dylan just arrived in New York with a guitar on his back and a few songs in his head. Just moved in with a series of women, because that’s what you did, and why not. Before he was famous, so this was not a ‘groupy’ thing. And he didn’t have a group then anyway. The roads he crossed on his travels were lined with fabulous 50s and 60s Detroit metal, more fins than an ocean full of sharks. And Bob takes his first pay check from Columbia Records and buys himself a Truimph motorbike. Riding round always helmetless and often drunk. As ya did. How we all miss those days. Those lucky enough to have survived the first time round.

I like Dylan’s music. I wasn’t mad on it at the time but really, it was a bit sophisticated for a 7 year old. Even me. And remember, sophistication was invented in Ilford. So whereas the Beatles appealed to everyone with their wonderfully early pop shit, Dylan was subtle, nuanced, brilliantly clever lyrics which, quite frankly, no 7 year-old wants to hear and if he does, he wouldn’t understand them. ‘She loves me, yeah, yeah, yeah’ is so much easier to get your head round than feeling ‘like a rolling stone’. But now I can admire the man, and his truly amazing words and both are great. And the film does justice to all of it.

I booked the tickets in the morning. How hard is that? Picturehouse, done it a hundred times. But somehow managed to book for Sunday instead of Saturday. Fuck. Phoned up, got a refund, and booked again.

For Sunday. Sunday??? WTF??? Tried one more time, after discovering how easy the refund process was. Ahhh, that’s better, this time it’s for… FUCKING SUNDAYYYY!!!!.

When I phoned for the refundS I booked with the geezer. Daniel. By then my best mate.

Anyway, glad we went, and even more gladder-er that SPURS JUST BEAT MAN UNITED!!!!!

Deleriously happy Sunday

A xxxx

JD Vance is the vice president of all America. As a good analogy to understand this very important role, if the President of America is a Rolls Royce, or a Cadillac, the VP is the spare tyre. Maybe just the jack. A locking wheel-nut. His job is to speak the words of his boss, in situations where the boss is otherwise engaged. Or couldn’t be arsed to shlep all the way to Munich. If you don’t realise that sending the vice-pres. to an event, a conference, to see world leaders, is actually an insult to those present, then just see the photo today of Vance shaking hands with David Lammy, our worthless foreign secretary, and you’ll realise how low a position VP actually is.

Vance made a speech about Ukraine. But spent the first 20 minutes slagging off all the European countries. Including, and in many ways, especially, us; the UK. And Germany.

Why? Because of our ‘assault on freedom of speech’. As exemplified by the Germans banning much of what the horrible ADF party want to do or say. And just because they’re virtually a reincarnation of Hitler’s Nazis. And us for locking up all those people who, at the time of the Scunthorpe riots, were posting information… well, posting lies that the murderer was an ‘illegal immigrant’, a ‘boat person’, basically any toxic mix of the words: ‘muslim’, ‘immigrant’, ‘asylum seeker’ and ‘refugee’. The postings which rallied an army which performed their own acts of sheer terrorism, anarchy and, vigilanteism.

The odd thing? No, not odd, just very ‘Trumpian’ is that during the election he (allegedly) lost, four years ago, everything posted about him which was bad, and there, obviously, was a lot to work with, was called ‘fake news’. Everything the Democrats said was ‘fake news’.

Therefore, the rules for posting are: anything centre-left is ‘fake news’, ‘total bullshit’, out-and-out lies, and must be taken down. Even if it’s true. Anything right wing, regardless of how extreme; Germany’s AFD or the English Defence League, even a bunch of northern neo-nazis making up shit to incite riot, is ‘freedom of speech’ and must be protected at all costs.

So well done, Mr Vice President, for the clarification. Now get back in the boot. Where you belong.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

All hail The Donald, the peacemaker supreme. As long as there’s a deal in it for him. Bless him.

He’s going to Saudi Arabia to ‘sort out’ the Ukraine business once and for all. And he probably will. It needs to end. He’ll meet Pooot’n there and they’ll plan the end of the war. Brilliant.

What about Ukraine? Shouldn’t they be at least allowed to listen in to these two ‘great men’? If only to hear ‘what they’re deciding’? Possibly, even, to offer input, maybe suggestions? Even to make claims or demands? Not that they’ll mean much. Because what these two, unquestionably ‘most powerful men in the world’ seem to be doing is ‘divvying’ up the world between them. Then there’ll be peace.

“OK, Vlad, I’ll take Gaza, Greenland and Canadia, you get Ukraine, Crimea and Estonia, maybe I’ll throw in Lithuania if you leave Poland alone. And I’ll give you Mississippi for free.”

It’s like a giant game of monopoly, but you ‘buy’ countries instead of streets. You can do that if you have all the bombs.

So, just to clarify: I like Trump on Israel. On everything else he’s an insane man.

And because I feel the two big boys are sharing out the world between themselves, I am, for the first time in my life, in agreement with James O’Brien. Don’t know James? You’re lucky. He’s a presenter on LBC radio. He’s the ‘anti-Nick-Ferrari’. Because whereas Nick is the nicest, loveliest, cleverest bloke in the world, O’Brien is a simpering, smug, neo-leftist, champagne-socialistic, total tosser who thinks that its fine to be a vile antisemite as long as he claims he doesn’t have a racist bone in his pathetic, flabby body.

The smart question is: “so why listen to his show?” But it’s too smart for me to answer sensibly other than ‘…keep your enemies closer’. Same as reading the Mail on Sunday. It’s to provoke myself. My life is otherwise too stress free.

So we shall wait and see what this proposed ‘peace’ will look like. But you know Zelensky won’t like it one bit.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx