Andy's Glasses

So why do you fast? People ask me this. Knowing my precise thoughts on the whole ‘relgion’ thing, which loosely translates as ‘its all bollocks’. And there is but one reason. Or two. I fast because I can. I fast because its really not difficult. I fast because everyone else does. And I fast because as the bell goes for the end of that 25th hour, we eat food that never, under any other circumstances, tastes a fraction as good. Why do you bang your head against the wall? Because its great when you stop. Why do you fast?

Though I did murmur the weeniest of prayers yesterday. Even before the Spurs match kicked off. I prayed that my hip would be ok for today. Because my dear old (very old, in fact) mate Aussie Johnno is over for the usual, brief, temporary, fly-through visit to these shores. And for those who don’t know, when he was Rhodesian Johnno, he was in fact the Bulawayo Boys Tennis Champion of about 1973 or 74 or thereabouts. So the once in a decade chance to compete with ‘the best’ (phah!) was too great to heed the consultant’s instructions to ‘just rest the hip and it’ll be fine’. I’ll rest it tomorrow. In fact, due to upcoming holiday, I’ll be resting it quite a bit. So no point being too hard on myself. How much harm can one gentle knock-up do? Particularly with the Bulawayo (white-)Boys Champion of 1975?

The signs were great. Weather conditions perfect. It was raining. But not much. Barely a drizzle, hardly a torrent. And it was great. Like the old days when he was London Johnno and we’d play more regularly. And all was fine. Until that fatal run to the right. Ahhhhh. Fuuuuuuu- no, I’ll be fine. And I was fine. The pain ceased, I gingerly went back on court and played out with increasing comfort/ lesser limpage. No problem. Course, I can’t fucking move now, but heh, I’m in ‘rest mode’ for the next couple of weeks.

Theresa May has found a way to get the kids onside. Bribe them. Like Corbyn did. But he lied properly. Made promises that would never be even considered should power ever, heaven forbid (see, I do religion sometimes) fall into his lap. But Theresa’s bribe is more subtle. She’ll ‘freeze’ student tuition fees. Wow! That’ll buy me… errr… nothing? Yes, in a magnanimous move, she’s promised to hold the fees at the current 9,250 quid a year, subject to the preposterous 6.25% interest (bank rate currently: 0.25%). She will NOT, I repeat NOT be increasing them by the published £250 each year. I think Ms May needs to go back to ‘bribery 101’ and re-learn the basics: promise EVERYTHING, give nothing. She’s promised nothing. Thus just looks like a panic.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

We don’t sin. Jews, that is. Fact. Because today, Yom Kippur, the ‘day of atonement’ is all about, well, atoning. But not for sins. I endured 2 hours this morning of an ‘explanatory service’, the nearest I can actually bring myself, if not to synagogue, then to ‘prayer’. Don’t do praying. Unless Spurs are taking a penalty. Explanatory is different. More philosophical. More differenter. And I learned that the hebrew word used in all the prayers for this most holy of days is not ‘sin’. Its a hebrew word that very loosely can be translated as that, but the word ‘sin’ is just too specific, culturally. Too English. Which is a Christian language. Thus cannot translate middle-eastern concepts easily. Its more a ‘missed target’, an accidental sin. Ooops. And I was relieved at that pedantic little quirk. More because its interesting how all these things came about. Then I went out and did my ‘security’ which is great. I’m outside in the sunshine protecting those who feel they need to beat their chests and plead to God himself (you’re only allowed to do that on Yom Kippur really and NOT when you’re just driving round the North Circular and get cut up by a Nissan Micra drifting across the lanes) for eternal forgiveness.

Because I’m really not ‘a believer’. Nor a ‘Belieber’. Though I believe in Justin more because he’s kind’a there. Normally in prison. But definitely real. And as a cynical skeptic I need ‘proof’. Let God prove his existence to me. Personally.

And I went round to Lila’s and Spurs were 3-0 up at Huddersfield!!!! Holy shit!!!! I thought, there really IS a God!

So now I’m gonna go the whole 9 yards and grow my beard really long, dye it grey (as if) and wear silly clothes. Then maybe Spurs will even win at Wembley too. Who knows how far this thing could go?

But first I have to get through the day. A 25 hour fast. No food, no nuffink for a day and an hour. But its not a penance. Its not a punishment. Its because today (thankfully only today) you enter a plane of such intense spirituality that you simply ignore your basic, normal bodily demands. Unless the toilet’s involved, then you concede. Otherwise synagogue would be a bit of a mess. You become, like an angel. All spirit and no testicles.

So here’s the moral dilemma for yom kippur: would I become super-religious if it would guarantee Spurs would win every week? Hmmmmm. God’s definitely a Spurs fan anyway; he doesn’t need me.

Happy Yom Kippur

A xxxx

There was a geezer on Question Time last night whose little sign proclaimed him as “Ian Lavery; Labour Party Chair”. Just like that. Much too pc to be called a chairman, or chairperson, I thought, so he’s just ‘the chair’. I’d never seen him before. Then I heard him speak. In fact you’d have to be fucking deaf not to have heard him speak even if your tv was off as he has no volume control. Its set and stuck permanently on ’11’. He’s that new breed of politician; doesn’t matter what shit you speak AS LONG AS YOU SPEAK IT LOUOUOUDDDDD!!!!” He didn’t answer one question directly. Lots of politicians don’t. They twist a question about Angela Merkel’s open door immigration issue into the evils of Tory party taxation. Every other question he ended up talking (shouting) about the NHS. And being a Geordie, the louder he gets, the less you can understand. Yet when actually speaking about the NHS, as with many other things, whilst pausing to work out which direction to obfuscate, he ummed and ahhhed and showed a distinct lack of facts, figures and details. Obviously he’s the man responsible for shouting loud sound-bytes, they leave the facts and figures to Diane Abbott. And thus they call him ‘the chair’ because he in fact appears to share an IQ with my (previously) favourite piece of furniture.

Hugh Hefner died. The man who invented pornography. The man who brought us women clad only in bunny ears and tails, and nothing else, has gone to a ‘better place’. Though if there is a (straight) man alive who can think of a better place to be than the Playboy Mansion wearing pyjamas, he must be a religious devotee. Though God never looked as good as any Playboy Centrefold I’ve seen. God doesn’t even shave his beard, let alone…

Playboy has been around my whole life. And it was, for the first 40 years or so, the only ‘general interest’ magazine for men around. Whilst women had hundreds of weeklies and monthlies which talked of fashion and recipes and holidays and lifestyles and kids and movies, men were stuck with ‘Practical Electronics’, or ‘Motoring Weekly’, ‘Caravanning for Simpletons’ or ‘Line and Reel’. There was no magazine, until the arrival of the ‘lad mags’ which catered to men in an ‘across the board’ way. You were either into Mediaeval Calligraphy or you weren’t. But if you wanted to read about cars and clothes and music and… and… ok, and naked women, then Playboy was the mag to get. That was the justification anyway. The Party Line. Playboy catered for ‘things men like’ and ‘fabulous tits’ rank high on that list. Hugh was a god. Albeit a rather odd one, I felt. RIP.

I’d like the Labour Party under current stewardship to RIP too, but that’s a long way off, I fear.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

Capitalism is in crisis! Thus spake Corbyn. And in some respects he’s right. The banks fucked up royally, buoyed on by greed and arrogance so for 10 years we’ve all been paying the price for their mainly illegal excesses. Ryanair fucks up the travel plans of 40,000 more travellers and offers them each a Kit-Kat as ‘full and final compensation’. The Americans and the Canadians are battling over the aeroplane market and so the Yanks have imposed a 220% import tariff on Bombardier (Canadian) planes, risking 10,000 jobs in Belfast, where they have a massive plant. We have a housing crisis and a few other crises as well.

But what is the alternative? To capitalism? Well, according to the Corbyn/McDonnell axis of dickheads, the answer is Marxism. Put everything into the public domain and what you can’t nationalise you control to death. Can’t buy all the private homes but you can control the rents. Can’t buy all the multinational companies but you can tax them to death. Can’t replace CEOs with unemployed fruit-pickers but you can cap their salaries by tax until its no longer viable for them to work.

Never mind, everything is ‘state run’, every worker union affiliated and gets a 10% salary hike each year, regardless of profitability, viability or even workload. So might as well sit in the corner and let someone else sort out the in-tray. Everyone has an in-tray because everyone works in offices trying to run the massive number of nationalised industries which are failing. Just like last time.

Communism doesn’t work. Even if capitalism is fucked 6 ways to hell, it functions economically 1000 times better than communism. There has never been a viable economic communist state. I’ll repeat that: THERE HAS NEVER BEEN A VIABLE ECONOMIC COMMUNIST STATE.

Which is why, in anticipation of what we’ll call ‘the glorious day’ when the red flag is raised over both the Palace of Westminster and Buckingham Palace (just shoot me now; at least its painless), those pragmatically Marxist labourites are working out the inevitable. Which is that if Corbyn gets in, there’ll be a run on the pound as foreign investors get their money ‘the fuck out’a Dodge’ faster than you can say “there’s no place for Jews in the Labour Party, because we deplore all forms of racism and ethnic intolerance”.

But its ok, I’ve booked my way out of this mess, just in case. Ryanair flight RY24…

Happy thursday

A xxxx

There are three reasons to be cheerful this morning: Harry Kane, Harry Kane and Harry Kane. A masterful hat-trick last night in Nicosia left Harry with free goals, Spurs with free points and all good in the world. As long as you ignore all the bad.

And I missed it completely. Spending my time at a hospital having my hip checked out. The result of that match: no hat-tricks, no score really, a nil-nil draw. I wanted instant surgery. “Ahhhh, I see the problem, let me just hack that bit away, screw in a new plate there… where’s my hammer-drill?… yes, that’s got it… NOW WALK!!!!! Free from pain, free from anything!!!! Except my fucking fee, obvs.” Not to be. We visited the ‘imaging centre’ (don’t have ‘x-ray departments’ any more; what are you; living in1962??) and had came out with a new suit, slicked down hair and shiny shoes. Ok, I came out with x-rays. Sorry, ‘images’, ‘scans’. That kind’a thing. Which showed that I’m probably over 60, Jewish and, after staring at my pelvic scan wondering what was wrong, I have no penis either. Oh, they don’t come out on x-rays, phew. Or the x-ray machine wasn’t big enough, more likely. Anyway, nothing horrendous, all ok, just rest it and give me your credit card. Not necessarily in that order.

So then we came back. And the football was over, the fat lady had sung her last wonderful note and we were 3 points to the good in the Euro. And I thought: ‘I love Harry Kane’. Spurs, by all accounts, didn’t play brilliantly. Not even that well. But the first three attempts on goal all fell to Harry and he scored the lot. Which means lots of things.

Firstly, he has answered the ‘world class’ question with 5 goals in 2 matches in the finest footballing competition in the world. Consequently, secondly, he’ll be at Real Madrid before next September. Its what those bastards do. Steal our heroes. Well, if 100 million Euros counts as ‘theft’. It also means that the nicest, most humble, normal, common-or-garden geezer is one of the top 5 strikers in the world.

You don’t have to look like Beyonce to be a brilliant singer. You don’t have to look like, well me probably, to be a Hollywood superstar. And you don’t have to look like a pumped up, leg-waxed, tan-sprayed, tattooed steroid-receptacle to be a top footballer. And that’s Harry’s charm. He’s so wonderfully ‘normal’. Not educationally, obviously. But in his demeanour. In his manner. He looks like a plumber’s mate. The one who brings the wrenches and pipe-cutters, makes the tea, rolls up the fags. He looks like white van man. In a Range Rover. He doesn’t need to pose. He is the real deal.

Very happy, slightly limping Wednesday

A xxxx

There’s loads of speeches at THE Labour Conference (I refuse to omit the definite article when talking of ‘conference’, even though everyone else does but I’ve never known why). And all the speeches are free. Once you’ve paid your exorbitant fee to attend, obviously. But the best ones, in terms of freedom are by the FSOI. That’s ‘Free Speech On Israel’ group. That’s not an outspoken endorsement of the Zionist state kind’a thing. In fact its the opposite. This group wants the ‘freedom’ to slag off Israel and Jews at every opportunity. Between the lines you can certainly read ‘without being accused of anti-semitism’. They want the right to use terms like ‘Nazis’ and ‘apartheid’ and ‘land grabbers’ with impunity. Without those constant accusations of antisemitism from all those fucking Jews. And to that end, the FSOI want the Labour Friends of Israel (LFI) and the Jewish Labour Movement (JLM) thrown out of the labour party. They actually said that at their meeting. The Labour party maintain that the FSOI is ‘not affiliated to the Labour Party’ and yet the inflammatory event was on the Party’s conference agenda.

So just for the record, I’d just like to repeat Jeremy Corbyn’s and John McDonnell’s words: ‘there is no antisemitic problem within the Labour Party. Now we all feel better and totally reassured.

Like there’s no problem with ‘trolling’, that lovely practice of abusing, insulting and threatening people, usually women, online. Death threats, rape threats, all manner of lovely stuff. Yet Laura Kuensberg, the BBC political editor, now has a personal security guard to accompany her at all times because of the threats she constantly receives from ‘supporters’ of Le Corbyn. And remember, the BBC is often accused of ‘left wing bias’. Not left enough, obviously.

But not to worry. McDonnell yesterday outlined his plans to remove loads of government privatised contracts. The railways, hospitals, schools, all part funded and financed by private investors, have the bare-faced cheek to make money for those investors. McDonnell forgets that they never did that for the government, which is why they were sold off in the first place. By the last Labour government in the most part. “We’ll buy back 200 billion quid’s worth of contracts. We’ll BRING THEM BACK!!!” the tosser shouted. No mention was made of where that 200 bil will magically come from. Nor the 42 billion a year it’ll probably cost in setting up committees and quangos and administration teams to run it. Jobs for the boys.

Its not the socialist agenda of the Labour Party that I fear but the sheer militancy with which they behave. Socialists are fine. Aggressive, threatening, bullying socialists are emphatically not fine. The ‘threat level’ from Labour has moved from ‘fearful’ to ‘scared shitless’. The only level remaining is ‘run for the hills!’ We’re at Defcon 4. The only place more dangerous is Lila’s eating tray.

Happy Conference

A xxxx

Taking a knee used to be a way to refer to receiving a knighthood. You kneel before your monarch and if she has the strength at the time, she will place her sword on your shoulders and pronounce you a knight of the realm. If she’s feeling a bit weak and trembly you become the knight with one ear-lobe missing. Easy. Chivalrous.

But those damned Yanks have hi-jacked the whole ‘knee’ thing in protest against… basically against Donald Trump. Though ostensibly its about racism in the police forces of America who just keep on shooting innocent black guys in the back. And that is a massive problem. So in protest at the government’s apparent inability or unwillingness to prevent these terrible crimes from happening and being (no pun) whitewashed at their inquiries, black sportsmen and women have taken to not standing for the national anthem that precedes all games over there. And in fact over here too because there was an NFL game played at Wembley yesterday and all the black players ‘took the knee’ at the first mention of a star-spangled banner.

Last week a basketball team who won something or other was collectively invited to the White House and again several black players showed public lack of enthusiasm for this ‘honour’ so Trump took away the invite. Then, being Donald Trump, took to the Twitter-waves to slag off all exponents of this gentle, peaceful protest. Accusing them of ‘disrespecting the flag!!!’, that our forefathers fought so hard, blah, blah, blah, lost their legs in battle, blah, blah, blah… you know the speech. “These sports team owners” (that’d be the white guys at the top), Trump continued, “should just pull those kneelers out and say ‘YOU’RE FIRED!!'” To his credit the president did refrain from actually using the ‘n-word’ in any of this.

The excessive use of police force against black civilians is not new. Probably why OJ Simpson was driving so far and so fast that day. And although it was a big problem during the Obama years, it wasn’t an Obama problem. For Bush it was more difficult, simply because he’s white and southern. But no protests. Its because Trump has been repeatedly associated and in fact at times associating with right wing nut-jobs. The ‘alt-right’ which had a massive influence on his early time at the White House is a racist organisation. He acts in a manner which inspires the KKK to endorse his words and actions. And his extreme reluctance, after the car murder of an anti-racism protester, to critisize the neo-nazis was duly noted by all.

Ah, but even neo-nazis are allowed ‘free speech’ under the constitution, he implies. But oddly, the black sportsmen aren’t allowed that same freedom, apparently.

The Labour Party Conference is under way in Brighton. And they’ll sort out the entire future of this nation over 5 days. Oh, except Brexit. That won’t be discussed at all. Well, its not that big a thing really, not that important that Corbyn needs to worry himself about that. And by officially excluding it from the main conference agenda, Brexit has now become a fucking great herd of massive bull elephants in a very small room.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

I knew we had to win at West Ham yesterday. At the ‘London’ Stadium. Named after the people who West Ham stole it from. But we don’t mind. Cos its shit. Horrible place. The perfect home for a fairly horrible team. The only noise there yesterday was coming from the Spurs fans. Until about 60 minutes into the game when West Ham, given their sudden advantage following the departure of Serge Aurier after his second yellow card, decided to wake up a bit. Try playing some football. The fans then took their lead and, slowly sobering up from the previous night’s drinking excesses, neo-nazi conferences, drug-fuelled car-theft, joy-riding excursions, found some of their voices. Not that I like to stereotype.

Spurs were potent. Lethal. Kane, Alli, Erikssen. Need say no more. But I will. Because to that holy trinity you must add the name ‘Lila’. Who was watching, in her own fashion, round here. Wearing the Spurs bib that she insisted on having, in solidarity and support for her boys. Even Aussie Johnno, who still calls the game ‘soccer’, shame on him, couldn’t detract Lila from having her influence on the game. Free points.

I feel sorry for Crystal Palace. Well, I feel sorry for Streatham Malkie and Sarf London Simon who have the grave misfortune of supporting that almost tragic team. They’ve played 6 and lost 6. They haven’t scored a goal this season yet have managed to concede 13 in the failed efforts. Ok, its ‘only September’. But that soon becomes ‘only October’ and then its ‘only April’ and you’re fucked. They need a new manager. Oh, they did that already. Maybe Roy Hodgson will get more than the 4 games his predecessor was allowed.

Yesterday’s defeat was at the hands, or feet, of Manchester City. Just who you want to play when you’re 0 out of 5. But you can’t choose that sort of thing. City have now scored 21 goals in 6 games, conceding just 2 in the process. And they look the part. (Sorry, but…) They only played Palace but were simply brilliant. Horribly, richly, over-payingly brilliant. Every minute of Kevin de Bruyne’s game represented a greater income than most fans earn in a year. I may be exaggerating there but can’t be bothered to get the calculator out. Its pretty close anyway. But you know what? He’s almost worth it. As is David Silva and most certainly Leroy Sane. I haven’t even mentioned that Argentinian geezer because yesterday he was almost superfluous.

Ok, Chelsea, Manchester United and Watford are also on winning runs and looking strong but not on the same level as City. And one of those might be in the relegation battle before the year’s out. Let’s hope that’s Chelsea then. Man City have squandered leads in the table before though. Like… er… well, like last season.

Its all to play for.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

Theresa May is a wonderful negotiator. No doubt about it. She goes to Florence to speak to those rotten Euro-bastards and give them ‘what for’ and ‘read the riot act’ and make our case for leaving their repressive, demanding, over-charging Euro-bollocks, and plans to offer 18 billion quid for a 2 year ‘interim period’ after Brexit, before… before proper Brexit. And within one measly day’s news headlines, that has grown to 40 billion. I mean, WTF??? Well, its only money.

Meanwhile, back in London, you’ll need to take the bus. Walk. Tube it. No more Uber. Its finished here, done forever, don’t need ’em. Uber? Phah!! Got black cabs, got mini-cabs, well we did have mini-cabs before Uber arrived, but we don’t need Uber. So they’ve lost their license in London. Quite right too.

Who needs all that rotten convenience? Who needs that job flexibility? Who needs to have trackable, traceable drivers who are cheap enough that our daughters use them to get home from Shoreditch at 3am rather than that lovely, safe, reliable, speedy night bus. Or walking, semi-drunk, in their mini-skirts and high heels. Who needs that? Who needs to be able to call a ride with a press of your phone, get a cab within 2 minutes and not have to go to the cashpoint first? Naaaah mate. Who needs ’em? Who wants to be part of the future when the past is so appealingly expensive and antiquated and quaint? You wouldn’t want London to be just another city hooked up to the most wonderful alternative personal transport system in the world, would you? Not when you can become un-Ubered and be part of the 3rd world for riding round. Except most of the 3rd world has embraced Uber and found it to be a massive asset. Both in terms of public usage and job creation. Like it is here, but its simply not ‘good enough’ for London. Not… not… not… I wish I fucking knew. But licensed they won’t be as of September 30th. Though doubtless there’ll be appeals. But really. Really!

Spurs played at West Ham today and were winning so easily that was almost embarrassing. So they decided to try and make more a game of it so had one of our players taken off, give them a man advantage. Which levelled things up a bit but not enough to affect the result.

No tennis for me today. Nor tomorrow, much the pity. Seeing a hip man on Tuesday night. Not like a geezer with a long beard and tattoos who runs a vegan kebab shop in Dalston, more a besuited dude with a white coat and stethoscope. Though really, as an orthopaedic surgeon, more a hammer, chisel and Black’n’Decker. Oooohhhh.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

Mental health is an issue. Big issue, apparently affecting up to 40% of 14 year olds, particularly girls. Who, let’s face it, have never exactly been the most stable of genders. Yet 40% is a massive number of kids worried about social pressures, body images or life in general.

So the first question is: was it always this way for adolescents and we’ve just never quantified it or labelled it as a ‘condition’, rather than just the negativity and misery we expect from that demographic? Or does this represent an increase in mental problems, rather than an increase in the testing?

About 1 in 3 kids (so it seems) is ‘dyslexic’. Whereas in ‘the old days’ one in 3 kids was just thick. Or a shit speller. (I’m a bit dyslexic myslef so can cast nasturtiums at this grupe). Then they invented testing for it and created a whole new class of ultra-bright, multi-talented individuals who share a ‘condition’. Which is liberating.

So is mental health the same? Have they just become better at ‘diagnosing’ it, classifying it and making a nice, safe comfortable ‘condition’ into which the young can find solace?

Adolescence is a particularly difficult time of life for everyone except me. My only problem during that fabulous time of expansion, growth and world awareness, was spelling ‘adolescence’. But for everyone else, apparently, its now a problem. But the world has changed. Mainly in that there are no delays in information. I just bought some new shoes; here they are (7 photos attached to this message). No graphic descriptions, no waiting for the great unveiling on Saturday night; here they are. They haven’t even made it out of Zara but you’ve seen them already.

And people post images all the time on social media. Which fall into 2 groups: gorgeous thin people with muscles and smooth skin to make everyone go ‘wow!’ And slobbering fat people with spots put up to make people laugh. Its cruel but that’s what they do. Thus increasing the entire ‘body image’ shit that has always, to some degree, affected particularly young girls. You do get anorexic boys but very very few relative to girls.

Now they want to counsel ‘freshers week’ students to keep them ‘sober and sane’. Good luck with that. Both of ‘that’. Particularly the sober bit. Its in an effort to try and improve mental health. Which inversely correlates with drunkedness, regardless of how it feels during your 7th tequila shot.

If the testing for mental health is now sufficiently good that it can help, then fine. If its just an umbrella to hide under, another grouping to share misery with, not quite so good. I would say ‘avoid social media’ but for this generation its just too late. Lila’s not getting a smartphone until she’s at least 21. Unless she wants one, of course.

Happy New Year (the Jewish version)

A xxxx