Andy's Glasses

We’re leaving Europe. Brexit means Brexit zzzzzzzzzz…

Yet Theresa May was impressive yesterday. Despite the clown suit she chose for the most important speech Britain has heard since Churchill met them on the beaches (different bunch of Europeans), she delivered her ‘plan’ with strength and force and a genuinely ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude. But its all up in the air. I’m sure no-one actually knows the real mechanics of the process. In part because no-one’s ever done it before (Greece nearly did but received a reprieve, or 3 billion Euros from Germany, as its known), and in part because you simply can’t unwind 50 years of laws, rules and regulations overnight. Whatever Nigel Farage reckons.

On the basis of the speech the pound increased its value significantly yesterday. Couldn’t she have made the speech before we went to India? Would it have killed her? I could have saved 752 Rupees, I reckon. Maybe 821 (about a tenner). Selfish bitch.

Nicola Sturgeon is making noises once more. Or perhaps ‘still’. As she rarely stops. And its the same message: Scotland voted ‘in’ and ‘refuses’ to leave the EU. Good for them. I didn’t want to leave either, but I appreciate what we call, south of the border, ‘democracy’. I can’t unilaterally decide to stay in Europe. No more than the borough of Richmond, (also ‘in’) can declare itself an independent Euro-affiliated Island within an Island. ‘We’ voted out. The majority. That’s the way it works. The resultant minority has to put up with it. Or move away.

You can’t move Scotland. I’ve tried. It won’t budge. But little Nic is threatening once again to ‘devolve’. As if that’s such a massive threat that Britain will simply unwind the whole referendum thing and collectively go and have a group hug with Merkel and Hollande and Junkers again.

If Scotland did vote to ‘leave Britain’, itself a really unlikely outcome, it would have to apply as do all nations for acceptance into the European Union. It wouldn’t just ‘stay in’ by default. It would need, as all countries do, to show qualification on a myriad of criteria, most of which it wouldn’t make the grade. On grounds of its football league alone it would struggle. Once you factor in independent economy and dangerous foodstuffs, the French wouldn’t wanna know. Let alone the weinerish Germans.

But last time Scotland remained British by the skin of its haggis. If there is a next time, and she is threatening more so daily, the move to stay British, one feels, will be much stronger. If not, that could be interesting.

Meanwhile, they’re going to be paying us to drive BMWs, coming over to remove unwanted immigrants and sending teams of otherwise useless Euro-MPs to pick our fruit in the summer. Its all brilliant.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

If you weren’t sure exactly what it meant,
America is to have a new President
which come in all shapes, colours and sizes
For four years; gone before anyone realises.

This new one is the colour of gold
his face, his hair, all toned to what was ‘orange of old’
But being the Prez is not about appearance
Its a serious business requiring a startling intelligence

And there, really, is where the problem lies
The Trumpster man is ‘brain-denied’
He’s bluster and boom, gung-ho and John Wayne
Anything else is really a bit of a shame.

It will be Friday before he officially starts his new job
yet already he’s upset half the world by being a bit of a nob
With Taiwan contact China go ballistic
This isn’t a game, its more than mere statistics

Germany too reap his derision and contempt
Whilst another dose of hair-spray ensure’s he’s never unkempt
“Merkel made a tragic mistake” by letting those Syrians come
Jihadi’s one and all, kick ’em out and let me know when its done

He does have a soft spot for England Scotland and Wales
His mum loved the Queen, and all in which she sails
Well my Mum loved Morecombe & Wise but that doesn’t mean
I’d want to do a trade deal with them, however the terms might be keen

“Europe’s a shambles, NATO a frikkin’ mess”, he utters
But Russia’s dead cool and not at all run by dangerously aggressive nutters
For Mexicans I’m gonna build me a big wall
Six foot wide and twenny foot tall

“And cos BMW wants to build a factory down there
I’m gonna tax them cars to shit; that’ll make things square
They should be buildin’ ’em here, in the U.S of A
Jobs for my boys, work for another day”

“Oh, we do make ’em here, down in South Carolina
I didn’ know that, no wonder them cars is so finer.
70,000 jobs, to be absolutely precise
And a 35% tax would make cars a truly terrible price”

“Yeah, but they don’t drive American cars in Berlin… errr… Paris?… Munich
Like Beemers over here are driven by thousands of the rich”
But that’s because BMWs are fine vehicles indeed
And a 3-ton Chevy pick-up is probably not what Germans need

“I have a lot of respect for women; I’d rarely screw anything other
But I value their opinions, their counsel, their wisdom, particularly when theyr’e uncovered
I don’t like ‘dogs’, ugly ones make me sick,
no time for the disabled either really, its not what makes me tick”

So The Don is coming, to a White House right near you
Don’t be depressed, the world’s already mired in poo.
This is no time for getting all limp and wussy,
When you see that gel, just grab her by the pussy!!!

God fucking help us

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

Who is a bigger bastard? Diego Costa or Dmitri Payet?

That’s a tricky one. Both are total, absolute bastards of the first order, mercenary, disloyal and petulant. So here’s another question: can you be TOO rich?

The problem in football is perception. Nothing more, nothing less. We, as fans, ‘perceive’ our players kissing their badges when they score, running into the crowds to embrace their ‘brothers’ and speaking up their clubs at interviews making all the right noises, albeit with a few too many ‘ya-knows’ and ‘at da enda’da days’. They appear ‘loyal’ to their clubs. Devoted even. As we are all devoted to our jobs, homes, families, lives. Until something better appears on the horizon. And then the wife leaves the husband and kids because ‘she’s only got one life’ and ‘wants to live it!!!’ (See; you want equality? You got it.) Or the offer from the competitive business proves too tempting to resist (“I’ve given this company 9 years of my life, I’m entitled to move on, don’t owe them nuffink!!”)

So with footballers. They are like mayflies. They get their day in the sunshine, then they die. Ok, overly dramatic, they get 10 years, 15 if they’re lucky. Oh, and if they’re good enough. Therefore, while we’re banging on about ‘loyalty’ they’re just thinking of their careers. And how to maximise them for the lean years that will follow. Because at some point, you’re 33 years old, knees are shot, shoulder’s weak, ankles ruined, groin… whatever happens to them happened, and you’re unemployed, uneducated, can barely string half a sentence together and you have 9 children from 5 different women on the payroll. What’cha gonna do? So you need to reap the harvest.

Sometimes timing is all. No-one shouted ‘disloyalty!!!’ at David Beckham when he left Manchester United for Madrid. Partly because his issues with his manager were famous and in the public eye and mainly because we all loved him. And therefore we wanted him to do well for himself, and we would take some of that reflected glory as payment-in-kind. That’s fair. He banks 78 million and we get to say ‘I saw him play when he was 17’. Fair.

So as players approach 30 they inevitably start looking to bolster their pension pot. And there’s always some country somewhere starting up a ‘superleague’ and trying to attract ‘names’ to give it credibility. Be it Kazakhstan, China, or Paris. And the offers forthcoming are quite frankly ridiculous. Even Jeremy Corbyn was shocked. “You’re earning 200k a week, we’ll give you 600!!” And the guy thinks: I’ve been at this club for 19 months, I wasn’t born here, I haven’t even bothered to bring my family over from France/Spain/Wherever, so fuck ’em, I’ll take it.

And you can’t blame them. Yes, its greed. But aren’t we all greedy? Don’t we all want a bit more?? Or a helluva lot more, if its on offer?

Diego Costa wasn’t even loyal to his country. He changed from Brazilian to Spanish. Dmitri Payet is just a little shit, not necessarily a cockney one. So hate these players if you wish, but don’t use the ‘loyalty’ card. Its simply not appropriate.

Which is why we all enjoyed seeing Everton (still really a ‘poor’ club even though they now have a new, monied owner) beat Manchester City (untold riches and ridiculous wage structure and generally as hateful as can be imagined) yesterday afternoon. Don’t know if John Stones enjoyed it that much, nor Pep Guardiola, but I did.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

This is what happens when Spurs lose a match.

I go out on Saturday night, maybe dinner, maybe a movie, come home, make tea and don’t watch Match of the Day because I hate it and have no interest whatsoever in any other team. Instead I find the comfort that really only a T-1000 can provide. I’ve never bothered to record Terminator 2, you just don’t need to. Its always on somewhere. And Linda Hamilton provides the comfort. Yes, my team has lost a football match, let’s watch some psychopathic paranoidly delusional fucking head-case-from-hell crack up before my very eyes. Ahhhh, nice. Let’s shoot things now…

But of course, this is ‘history’. We haven’t lost a match in ages. So last night, after our dinner out, even though T2 was in fact on, I hit the play button on MOTD. For Mel. She needed to see what I’d already seen earlier in the day. Spurs not just winning but doing it in such wonderful style and grace that even Arnie blowing up 57 police cars with a rocket launcher becomes second best.

Then this morning, due to excessive rainage on the tennis courts (I fucking hate that), I watched it again. I just had to. In fact its not even the game and the goals. Its the hyperbole from the pundits. Its the wonderful praise heaped on the players I love like the sons I never had; the brothers I never wanted (remember Caine and Abel?)

Then I watched the rest of the games. As you do when you have time. And I learned that Bournemouth, although great, simply can’t win matches. And that I still love Tommy Huddlestone and wonder why such a class act is still at Hull. Other than the ‘fitness’ issue (football euphemism for eating all the pies).

And I learned that I have to re-think the whole Andy Carroll thing after that absolutely fantastic goal-of-the-season he scored yesterday. Because I used to think he was just a great big, fat, ungainly industrial lummox of an injury-prone, trouble-making, thick-as-shit, Geordie rapist scumbag who spends more time wasting NHS resources than he does kicking a ball. But that goal has changed everything. Well, maybe we can drop the ‘ungainly’ at very least. And a goal of such stunning athleticism that he’ll doubtless be on the physio’s bench for the next 27 months getting over it.

I had a conversation last Christmas with a Liverpool fan. I try not to have many. In which we discussed ‘belief’. Because little Johnny ‘believed’ that his team could win the league. But really ‘believed’ in an almost religious way. That if you believe sufficiently, then it WILL come true. I told him Spurs fans don’t do that. Too cynical. Too battle-worn from the years of frustration.

And yet… and yet… maybe not this year, maybe not next, but Pochettino is building something at Spurs. Something really good and powerful and strong. And if we can keep those fucking Chinese away from our star players, because the streets of Shanghai are NOT paved with gold, they’re paved with a billion Chinamen polluting the place up, then maybe… just maybe…

We can dream.

Happy, dreamy, wet, fucking rainy Sunday

A xxxx

When Eddie Murphy made that atrocious remake of the Nutty Professor, very few Jews complained that the Jerry Lewis role as professor was originally Jewish. Who basically gives a shit? The re-make was so awful no-one wanted to make any claim to any part of it.

The play Hamilton is a historical production in which all the cast are black. Even though the original old white men, the founding fathers, weren’t. No complaints. In fact the show’s apparently brilliant.

Yet when Sky tv make a re-make of Michael Jackson’s life, there’s uproar. Because the title role is being played by a white man. Uproar. Led by Ms Jackson Junior who claimed the programme made her want to vomit. So they’ve pulled it. ‘Out of respect to the family’. The vomiting family.

This is not about any form of racism or discrimination. Because no-one really cares what colour people are in films. And I don’t think its specifically about Joseph Fiennes performance either. There was no lack of realism there. Nor would there have been if Michael had been played by a white girl.

Its about the chronic tragedy that was the life of Michael Jackson. One of the most brilliantly talented performers of his, or any, generation, other aspects of his time with us were rather odd, a bit bizarre, well on the far side of ‘eeeuuuwww’. And Michael Jackson, in 2001, when the film was set, was no longer the ‘little black boy’ of the Jackson 5. The family can make claims of a skin disease whitening his skin, but it wouldn’t account for the almost total facial reconstruction he’d had too. Which, deny it or not, whatever the reason, took a sweet little black boy and turned him into an androgynous little white person of undisclosed gender affiliation. Thus when you see Joseph Fiennes as Michael it is essentially funny. In the main part because it is so realistic. And that, I feel, is what the family don’t really like. That he became something of a joke-figure.

So if Mike Tyson had played Michael, the effect would have been the same. He was a seriously tragic figure. Whatever colour. Or lack of.

Dmitri Payet is different. He’s a very nice colour. But everything else about the West Ham (for the very short term) midfielder is really not very nice. He is horrible. The worst kind of horrible. Because he’s repetitively horrible. He has a history of playing for a club, ok, playing quite brilliantly, then demanding to leave. Just out of the blue. And not just demanding, but refusing to play, refusing to train, everything but an all-out hunger strike. West Ham obviously don’t want him to leave, they’re doing pretty badly with him, heaven knows what’ll happen without him. But he’s no longer an option. He’s returning to Marseilles. From whence he came. And where he performed the same stunt a few years back when he wanted to leave.

Therefore Dmitri Payet is my tosser of the week. And that’s a real achievement for the little Frenchman because he’s been up against Trump, Obama and a lot of stiff competition.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

A few months back I had cause to mention the new ‘Hyperloop’ transport system. It works on the basic principle that: if the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, the fastest way to travel along that line must be better than using slight modifications of Stephenson’s Rocket. Our new HS2 trainline (should it ever start, heaven forbid) will use trains travelling at 250mph. Elon Musk’s Hyperloop travels at 760mph. You could get to Birmingham hours earlier than by train, so YOU COULD LEAVE MORE QUICKLY. Surely that’s the whole point of ever going to Birmingham, to come away again and count your blessings.

But it wouldn’t go to Birmingham. It would go to Edinburgh. In under an hour. You could go just for lunch. Though no idea why you’d want to do that, unless your cholesterol levels were dangerously low.

Using the hyperloop technology is going to be ‘free’. Elon Musk, Mr Paypal, Sir Tesla, has decided not to sell the plans, just give it to the best proposal using it. Dubai will probably have the first one, running one to Abu Dhabi. To see if excessive gold and diamonds will slow the thing down significantly. And I’m not sure the exact nature of the ‘competition’ but Britain apparently has four bids in the game. One being from Liverpool to Hull. Useful that one.

But its that technology. Its wonderful. A vacuum tube with a ‘train-thing’ suspended by magnets and whizzed along frictionlessly by compressed air. And speed. Oh my, the speed.

I have no idea what such a thing might cost, but I’m gonna guess its ‘rather a lot’. Unless IKEA are doing a special on do-it-yourself, flat-pack hyperloop vacuum tubes.

So why fuck about with HS2. Old technology, old ideas, variations on ‘slow’. Its not like its cheap. Its outrageously expensive and brutal on the countryside. Though to be honest, there’s plenty of countryside out there, we won’t miss a little bit taken away.

Let’s do it. I want one.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

Someone published the bookies odds about the Trump presidency. You get very short odds on Trump not making it through the first term. I wonder what odds you get for him not making it TO the first term. If he can survive the next few days of scandals and accusations, surely someone can assassinate him, can’t they? Not like there’s any shortage of guns and gunmen out there. I’d bloody do it myself as a public service, if Easyjet flew to New York.

Yesterday was more scandal. Russia hacked the Clinton campaign, which we knew but for some reason saw no reason to act upon. And more importantly, Trump was involved in an ‘incident’ at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Moscow (soon to be re-named the ‘Titz-Carlton’) in the Presidential Suite. I won’t go into the lurid details of the accusations… oh, why not, they’re so funny be rude not to.

Trump ALLEGEDLY stood by whilst a group of hookers peed on each other. Having previously described Trump’s hair as ‘a golden shower’, this is almost too ironic to even consider. For some reason, what the press was most concerned about was that said allegations took place on ‘the actual bed that President and Mrs Obama had previously slept in!!!!!!’ As if that makes the perversely voyeuristic activity much worse than merely watching a few Russian anorexics pissing all over each other. Its almost like they’re actually wee-ing on PRESIDENT AND MRS OBAMA!!!!. And they would have done, if the Obamas hadn’t left that suite 17 months before. I don’t think they even had a late check-out facility.

Trump denied all this shit. As he would. And as he should. If it had been Tibetan monks pissing themselves that would be different. But Russian hookers? Nyah.

I’m bizarrely excited about the Trump presidency. Mainly because I live in London, which is in nuking distance from Washington, but not close enough to actually be part of the lunacy that is going to ensue in 10 days time. Mostly though, much as I really can’t even bear to look at the man, let alone listen to his garbage, it will be interesting for us all to see a man in the White House who knows nothing whatsoever about government or politics. A man with ‘no filters’ on what he says or does. And a man who ain’t really all that bright. Will the macho bravado in-yer-face posturing give way to something more diplomatic? Something more subtle? Ok, that’s doubtful.

But personally, I can’t wait.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

An ex-public schoolboy (only in England is this phrase wrapped in stereotype) was trying to blackmail girls to either: (option A) pay £100 into his bank, or (B) have sex with him. Otherwise… (dramatic music), he would put photos of them on Facebook!!! I’m guessing these are compromising photos, rather than said gel with grandma on the beach at Eastbourne in December, “gosh its windy here!!!” Or photos of the now ubiquitous Facebook puppies.

All that’s fine. Guy’s gotta make a living, wants to have sex with girls. All perfectly normal. Blackmail? Well, if you’re skint and all else fails?

What is tragic about this tale is the extent to which it is a crime of our times. In which everything, but EVERYTHING is done on a phone/computer. The real world only exists as a temporary pause between snapchats, facebook and a bunch of streaming sites. And thus the ‘ex-public schoolboy’ (and I’m gonna guess it wasn’t a very good public school, more one that caters to the somewhat more… errr… more dense among the upper-middle classes) perpetrated his crimes over social media. And requested that the hundred quid ‘should go into his bank account by 4.30!!! Or ELSE!!!!)

But its all ‘there’. Everything. Every word, every threat, the money, its all online, all not just traceable but available for anyone who looks at the plonker’s phone. At least with ‘used notes, non-sequential, in a brown paper bag, buried in the third rubbish bin at Euston station’ it had an anonymity about it, cloak and dagger, ‘read this note then eat it’, kind of third partiness that was there to protect innocent criminals. Allowed them the possibility of denial. This is like a mugger on the street offering you ‘contactless payment’ facility and whipping out a card terminal. “NO! Punch me, kick me, but not contactless payments!!!!!” And of course the mugger’s mate is video-ing the whole thing, just in case the police need proper evidence later. You have to video everything or its not really happening. Einstein said that.

Obama’s gone. F’rever. Didn’t hear the speech, everything the man’s done in the last 7.8 years has been a total disappointment to me, wasn’t prepared to stay up til 2am for more of the same. He was the wunderkind when elected, and it went downhill from there. I was immensely proud when Americans voted in a black President. Well, when Democrats voted in a black President. And yet the apparent racism in the police has sky-rocketted, gun crime is still at the most ridiculous level (last week, Fort Lauderdale, eg) and then, the coup de gras, he royally stuffed Israel at the already-testicle-free, anti-semitic UN. Michelle should divorce him and stand next time. Funny how her star brightened as his faded and spluttered.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

I am a weekend warrior!! Its official. I’d always thought I was an old git who liked standing on a tennis court with his mates talking about football before heading off for coffee and cakes. But no, I am WEEKEND WARRIOR!!!! a new class of beast that comes complete with its own exclamation marks. Said so in the Times, but if I’m honest I added the ‘!!!!’ myself. Just for dramatic effect.

Scientists followed 64,000 British adults over 10 years. I think we all have to agree that’s a fairly valid sample size and test period. I don’t think they meant, like, ‘stalked’ them. Just probably got them to fill in forms every week or something. Asking about activities of an excercisey nature. Upon which everyone famously lies a lot. “I sat in the pub all week drinking Stout and eating pork scratchings, other than when I was watching telly, eating pork scratchings, so I’ll just put a cross by ‘3 sessions of moderate cardio activity’, that’ll please ’em”. Its the universal way of survey-taking; lie.

What they found was that although ‘regular exercise’ is ‘the dream’, its one most workers can’t attain. So what we do is play tennis/cricket/golf (I’ll include that as ‘exercise’ but not ‘sport’, obviously) on a Saturday or Sunday or both, so we can justify the ridiculous amount of food and drink we shall consume over that same period. Well that’s what I do. And they found that these WWs were a massive, humungous, life-affirming 30%!!!!! less likely to die during the study period. That’s a big ‘wow!’ Just a couple of sessions a week, a few brisk walks, and you’ll live 30% longer, or have a 70% chance of not dying today.

But during the course of the study, 9,000 of the sample died, out of the 64,000 that began. That’s a loss of about 14%. All the fat, lazy Netflix addicts. Presumably. Or so you’d think.

What I want to know is; if you took 64,000 adults over 10 years and didn’t get them to fill in any forms upon which they had to lie through their teeth and make up exercise they never intended to partake in, would you still lose 14%? Is it the study itself that is actually killing perfectly healthy, ok a bit tubby, but normal people?? I demand a re-count.

Donald Trump is unhealthy. In so many ways. He’s fat, actually clinically obese, hair-dye chemicals are notoriously carcinogenic, and his brain doesn’t work in a normal way. Well, not in a normal ‘adult’ way. He is a moron, in fact. I’ve performed my own study and that is the unquestionable conclusion. He’s almost the President of the most powerful nation on Earth, yet responds to any slight or slur by instantly ‘tweeting’ the first thing that comes into that dull mind of his. Playground shit. ‘NO; MY DAD COULD BEAT UP YOUR DAD!!!’ kind of crap.

Meryl Streep called him out for abusing a disabled reporter, itself not the most adult-like behaviour, so he tweeted that ‘she’s no good anyway’ and ‘just a big loser’. And next week he’s going to be the President.

Hail to the Chief.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

There’s a new movie out either now or this week, not sure, been away, lost track. Its called La La Land and its a musical rom-com. Which is a brave movie to make, at massive cost, as the musical genre is kind’a done and over for decades. And most attempts to try and revive it have failed. With a few notable exceptions. In fact I can think of one. Cabaret. Brilliant, brilliant movie. Spectacular even. But not a rom-com. Too many nazis and jack-boots for that. And the lead man turns out to be gay, which didn’t do much for Liza Minelli’s romantic aspirations. Phah! Don’t’cha hate it when that happens?

There was Mama Mia, the film of the play of the song of the… and that was pure shite. Though, apparently, women loved it. Go figure. Does a surplus of emotional potential eliminate good taste? Not prepared to say. And even Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge was shite. Awful. And Les Mis was ok, but only because its such a fuck-off brilliant stage show and even when you cast Wolverine in it, its still pretty damned good.

So the question is: is La La Land a ‘film for women’ or are boys allowed to go too, without sneaking in the side door under cover of darkness to hide their shame?

I like rom-coms. I watch ’em, I read ’em. Unashamedly. Ok, a little shame if they’re really crappy and I’m sitting on the tube (when they fucking run!!!!) sobbing all over my kindle because the heroine who we met on page 1 (slim, athletic, fiesty, just broke-up from love of her life…) when she crashes her car into the hero (ex-military, tousled, biceps like thighs, GSOH…) and they have a big row, finally, 763 pages later, gets to shag him and love is declared.

When Harry met Sally. Sleepless in Seattle. Even Four Weddings. Great rom-com movies. Haven’t seen many in a while because they’ve all starred Jennifer Aniston. Though I’ve seen a few with J-Lo. But only because I’m madly in love with J-Lo.

So La La Land? Will I go with Mel and 250 women strangers armed with their boxes of Kleenex to watch it? Or pretend I’m going to see Death Battle of the Samurai Car Jackers with all the boys in screen 5, then sneak in when the first gunshot scares me?

For Emma Stone, I can handle the shame.

Happy tubeless Monday

A xxxx