Andy's Glasses

This is me and the legend at the Emirates today. Bloody sun came out, ruined the selfie, but I’m the grey fuzz on the left.

And its not my first visit to that noble stadium. Been there a few times. But previously I’d only gone in ‘Club Level’ and today I was down and dirty with my own boys (read: scum) in the ‘away fans corner’. The most hated area of any pitch. Except the Emirates. Not because Arsenal fans are nice, nor polite, nor welcoming. But because they’re nothing. They don’t shout, they don’t sing, they don’t nuffink. They just sit there. Being smug. Its like a ‘liyberry’. As we told them. Repeatedly.

‘Club level’ is the corporate bit. About 30% of the whole ground. Expensive and mainly filled with people who don’t care about the footy, they’re there for the freebies.

The Emirates is not famous for its atmosphere. Oddly, old, shitty Highbury had oodles of the stuff. But new, slick, sanitised Emirates has somehow silenced the Arsenal faithful. So ‘we’ did all the shouting and singing. And swearing. Lots and lots of swearing. The guy behind me apologised at one point after one serious chain of abuse following an Arsenal ‘dive’. Apologised? Do I look like the Pope? He spoke my mind. All expletive.

So they built this uber-stadium, just 10 years ago. And, in previous visits I’d drooled over the carpeting, salivated over the beautiful, tasteful decor, reached near-climax at the wonderful toilet facilities. And stated that: one day all stadia will be like this. Its so post-millenial, so clean and super.

Until you get to the ‘away fans’ bit. The design budget apparently ran out just before they finished that particular corner of the ground. So they just copied the old, circa 1922 model of facilities provision. “The look we’re aiming at” claimed the now unfunded, almost pro-bono, design team, ” is ‘squalor'”. And they succeeded. Its a shit-hole down there. Crowded, insufficient toilets, poor facilities, dingy, dirty, fucking horrible.

But who fucking cares? When we went there and came away on even terms. We weren’t brilliant. Neither were the Arse. We were probably less-not-brilliant than they were as we gained our forth draw in a row. But heh. Its the Arsenal. They smash teams to bits. But not Spurs. Not today.

Happy very hoarse-voice, post-screamy, Sunday.

A xxxx

What the f***!!! is going on? Not only has America fallen upon itself in an unprecedented wave of hateful slagging off in a presidential run-up, making a farce of both the 2 candidates and the whole process itself, but also here! In Britain!!! Wonderful, conservative, subdued, almost anally retentive Britain.

The judges decided on Thursday that THE LAW STATES that Brexit must be passed by Parliament before it can be implemented. It was not a statement of what those judges personally wanted, nor a comment on the farce that was our own referendum. It was just their interpretation of the law. The implications of their decision was not considered, in that context. They’re judges, they know the law and they apply that in their judgments.

So I fully expected the Sun and the Mail to attack those judges; they are there to provide sensationalism and reactionary outpourings, particularly when those papers’ own views are opposed. Because newspapers are run by tossers for other tossers to read. Particularly those newspapers.

But when the government joins in those attacks, that’s very different. That’s nasty. That’s fascism. That’s so bad its Trumpish. He too is prepared only to accept democratic and legal validity when he wins by it.

So half the Conservatives, the Leavers, obviously, are now questioning a legal decision, which is fine, but also the motives by the judges for stating them, which is really not fine. Not fine at all.

Half the problem is that this government is exceedingly light in the legal world. It has a Lord Chancellor who has no legal experience at all. And a lightweight attorney general (if you can name Jeremy Wright there’s a free Curly Wurly on offer… ooops) who was appointed as a QC two years after he actually stopped practicing law. Because you have to be a ‘silk’ to be in that office. He then took his youthful inexperience (in criminal law) to the High Court (not criminal), to clash wigs with David Pannick, probably the best civil advocate in the country, if not the world.

To question the integrity of our judiciary is seriously unworthy and grossly ignorant. For the government to do this is quite frankly unforgivable.

The judges were not saying ‘you can’t Brexit’, they were just saying how, legally, it HAS to be done. By parliament.

You don’t shoot the messenger. Unless you’re a tosser, or one of the Prime Minister’s inner circle, apparently.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

Gina Miller is a beautiful lady. She’s also very clever, incredibly successful and speaks right posh, like wot I do. Innit. She’s my new hero. Not because of any of the above, but just because she has such fabulous principles. As in: ‘look at da principles on dat one!! Phwoarrrrr!’. The new cry from builders in the PC world. If Gina is a Spurs fan I’d believe in God.

Gina took the world to court. And bloody won. Ok, she took the UK to court, and won. All because of the Brexit vote. Which this court ruling does not in any way overturn, you can’t do that. But it makes the ruling that ‘article 50’; our way of leaving the EU, cannot be invoked without firstly passing it in parliament.

Ok, which at that point, does present a bit of a constitutional dilemma. Because ‘the nation has spoken’ in the stupid referendum, and out of Europe we must go. But probably a majority of MPs did not want Brexit. And so could refuse to pass the necessary bill to trigger article 50. Which would be stupid, would go against democracy… but in a very democratic way. Just a different part of democracy. You followin’?? The people were asked, the people decided, but aren’t allowed to have their way til the guv’nors have nodded approval.

Or, they could only approve the Great Exit if the terms we seek are the terms the majority ‘remainers’ want. As we now call ‘a soft brexit’. Whereas most Brexiteers want a ‘hard one’. In a nice way.

The matter now rests with the Supreme Court. Next month. And if that institution agrees then Theresa May will pretty much have to call a general election to extend her mandate.

Its all fucked up, and all due to Gina. Who had the idea, who paid for all of it and who just wants everything legal and kosher. And not at all to try to reverse the decision now ‘the plebs have spoken’ nor just make things difficult for everyone after all those involved lied for all they’re worth in the run-up.

And the only reason any of this is in any way relevant is because football is currently too painful to consider. This is a welcome distraction.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

So I’m walking along the Embankment, on my way to work yesterday, and the sun’s shining and the River’s gleaming and the Shard is… errr… Sharding and Big Ben is… just behind me. And all is well with the world. Mainly because I was walking. The cars were jammed up in both directions. Not that that is in any way unusual.

Then I hear a whistle. And then again. And again. But, kind’a frantically. A referee’s type whistle. You can hear the ‘pea’ rattling round to emphasise the whistlage. And I’m looking round for a football match. Or a game of rugby. Hockey. Something where its all got out of hand, because there was a lot of whistling by this time.

Then I saw the policeman. On his motorbike. Whistle in mouth, leaning over his shoulder at the oncoming traffic. Well, it would have been oncoming but he wouldn’t let it on-come. He had his hand up to the cars and his whistle whistling. STAY THE FUCK THERE!!!!! Even though he didn’t use one word, that’s what he said. And they understood. We all understand cop-lingo. Its universal.

He was joined by a second whistling bike-cop. A duet. A double act. Really good they were too. Like Roger Whittaker with aggression. Then another came.

Ahhhh, outriders. At which point, as I branched up Temple Place, I stopped to peer. Could it be Her Majesty? David Beckham? Kim Jong Un? Donald Trump??

The motorcade slid into view. Big Rolls Royce (like they make small ones), with a flag flying on the mascot. Couldn’t see which country cos the wind was blowing. The Rolls was followed by a Range Rover. Black. Very close behind. Followed by a big black Mercedes van, close behind that one. Which, in my mind, had a SWAT team, all in black sitting on benches, with balaclavas and machine guns, all going ‘hut! hut! hut!’ like they did in the Blues Brothers. In my mind. The Range Rover held some form of ‘secret service’. If we had an FBI, as well as fucking up elections, that’s what they’d do. Follow some dignitary or other in a black vehicle looking for trouble. Or preventing trouble. In secret. Though whistles, sirens, flashing lights definitely affects secrecy.

And I thought: wouldn’t it be nice if I wanted to drive up to Selfridges one Saturday but didn’t fancy sitting in the traffic, to phone the police and get them to stop all the traffic, every car, whistle me through every set of traffic lights, tell all the other drivers to: STAY THE FUCK THERE!!!! ANDY’S COMING!!!!, but in ‘whistle’, and just ease me through each and every hold-up. Ahhhhhhhh.

They’d do it for the Mrs First Lady of Columbia (probably who I saw), so why not me?

Its discimination.

Happy Thursday. Even after last night at Wembley. Bleuhhhh.

A xxxx

Last week Spurs lost a midweek game to Liverpool. I didn’t give a damn. Nobody gave a damn. Probably some of the players did but the manager didn’t. He played a second string team, gave some youngsters a run-a-bout and the match was hardly mentioned. Because it was in the EFL Cup. What? Who? Where? The EFL Cup. One-time merely The League Cup and a ‘vessel to prize’, a ‘path to European glory’ and prestige all on its own. Now; its nothing. A distraction. A chance to get players injured or exhausted before ‘important’ matches coming up.

I blame Arsene Wenger, myself. But I blame him for the war in Syria, for the American election debacle and the fact that my 4 Spades contract went down by 1 at bridge last night. He is my scapegoat of choice. Yet in the League Cup issues, he may be to blame. For being the first manager to have the foresight, about 10 years ago, that nobody will give a shit about the League fucking Cup in 5 years time, so its not worth doing anything other than making token gestures. And thus he started the trend of ‘playing the kids’ for League Cup matches.

Its a shame because that cup used to have kudos and everyone wanted to win it. But money changes all and when the Premier League came about and the Champions League arrived in its current format, everything changed. Finishing in the top 4 of the league became EVERYTHING. Because it gained entry to the Champions League. Winning the League Cup, if you could be bothered, only got you as far as the UEFA Cup, another much diminished trophy.

Again, this is a horrendously elitist viewpoint from the very top of the top league. I’m sure Watford would give their naming rights for the chance to win the League Cup or play in the UEFA. But (and I hate this term) ‘Big Clubs’ have big aspirations. And want the Champions League or nothing. Nothing being what most get. Most of the time.

Well Spurs got into the Champions League last year. We just did enough before the inevitable collapse to ensure entry. Yet still keep one eye, a very big, Cyclopean type eye, (maybe we can borrow one from Mezut Ozil), on league position. Which once again, is not as healthy as we’d like.

Tonight we play Bayer Leverkusen at Wembley to pretty much decide whether we will continue on past the group stages into the knockout phase. More to worry about there, but we’ll do so later. And then on Sunday we go to the Arsenal. Who are currently so full of goals and confidence and amazingness that if I didn’t hate them already, I’d start right now.

A big week. A very big week.

Worrysome Wednesday

A xxxx

Ok, so just imagine, for a moment, a possible scenario.

The Royal Fam. are all together for a lunch, a party, a gathering. Maybe to watch the Bake Off final together, or see Ed Balls on Strictly. Maybe they do that. THEY ARE HUMAN! So they must do normal shit too at times. You can’t spend your whole life waving at crowds and inspecting troops.

So they’re together for this ‘casual’ event. So casual that Prince Philip is not in uniform. Well he is, but he’s left half the medals off. Charles is a lounge suit and the Queen is crown-less. Casual. And Prince George picks up a gun. The Royals love guns, they’re like Americans in that respect, probably have them all over the place, as well as the ones on all the walls. But this gun is no ‘civil war musket’, this is a proper gun. A big one. And his little Princiness accidentally opens fire. And shoots the Queen, his own parents(!!!) Wills and Kate, and even his gorgeous little sister Charlotte. Oh my, quel tragedie. (Its only make-believe though so don’t get too upset and start looking to sign the ‘memory book’ and stuff, not yet). Little George gets so upset that he then shoots himself, realising the magnitude of his inadvertent actions.

Harry would be the King. In one fell swoop the man 5th in line to the throne of England, Wales and wherever else is left, would ‘ascend’. War hero, drunkard, champion of wounded soldiers, humanitarian and all round pretty damned good bloke, would be our monarch.

And ‘she’, her above, might be the Queen. I know, she doesn’t look like a Queen, as we know it. She looks like a serious ‘babe’. And she’s foreign. American. Mixed race. Divorced. We’d have a ginger King and a babe for a Queen. How cool would that be?

Harry is ‘besotted’ with Meghan Markle. She’s an LA actress, currently shagging co-workers against filing cabinets in some legal ‘drama’. A series so earth-shattering its on channel ‘Dave’. Harry has the hots for her. Serious. Cancelled meetings in foreign lands to play eager puppy in LA. And I’m not saying she’s not worthy of his attention. In fact, after the string of limp blonde arm candy Harry’s used to, Ms Markle is a revelation. And she’s also a ‘humanitarian’ (aren’t we all? on some level? other than Nigel Farage?) and into yoga. Which Harry said he loves too. But you would, wouldn’t you. And I love kale and vegan food.

I hope this works out for Harry. He is definitely a good bloke.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

Ok, that’s it, I’m simply not going to cast my vote in next week’s Presidential election. I refuse. I abstain. Ok, I don’t actually get a vote, as such, but… errr… yeah, well, good point. No vote. Thank God for that.

Who the fuck are Americans going to vote for? The brain-damaged molester? Or the woman so careless that she accidentally places 650,000 state department emails on the personal computer of a serial sex offender?

Just when you thought this campaign could get no lower, it just dug itself in yet further still.

The FBI, that semi-evil force of good-ish, the acceptable face of the secret police (mainly because they dress so smartly. In fact they dress like Mormons), were investigating Anthony Weiner. Again. Mr Weiner, if you’ve forgotten, was the Congressman who was kicked out for sending pictures of his… errrr… of his Weiner… Little Weiner, to various women. Who didn’t want to open up a message on their phone and find this dick’s dick staring at them. He was kicked out of congress. But was still in possession of his dick. So started ‘sexting’ some girl. A 15 year-old girl. Oooops. Which in America, is ‘underage’. For… err… sexting? Whatever. Age is an odd thing in the States. You can drink in some states at 18, some at 19, a lot at 21. But you can vote at 18, drive at 16, have sex at 16, possibly whilst driving, but NOT whilst drinking, and you can own a gun at 4. Or 3 with parental supervision. Though you have to be 9 before you can steal dad’s high-powered machine gun firing 100 rounds a minute.

Anyway, The Weiner was married to Huma Abedin, Hillary Clinton’s closest aide and colleague. And obviously some link between the emails and ex-hubby/perv/dirtbag.

My first thought when this all came to light on Friday was ‘what: NOW???’ YOU HAVE TO BRING THIS UP NOW??? 10 days before the fucking election? Must be a Trumpspiracy. Trump has paid off the director of the FBI and got him to spread the dirt at the most sensitive time imaginable.

And yet the emails are there. 650,000 of the fuckers. On the computer of a total liability. If there is any dirty doings here, Americans need to know this before the election. If it was just a ‘mistake’, they really need to know that too. Because where we have ‘silicon valley’ and ‘silicon roundabout’ and silicon implants, the Russians have Hacking Central, Hacking Peripheral and Hacking Everything Else. And if Hillary is accidentally sending sensitive stuff to sex offenders computers, that ain’t safe. Its stupid, ignorant and shows a complete lack of understanding. And she’s the ‘clever candidate’.

I’m not talking about football until it gets better. Much better.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

Went to see ‘Motown: The Musical’ last night. Brilliant. Ish. Very ‘ish’. In fact much more ‘ish’ than brilliant. Because its a formula now. Jersey Boys (Frankie Valley: the musical), Sunny Afternoon (Kinks: the musical), Beautiful (Carole King: the musical), Queen: the Musical (Queen; the musical)… ya get the picture.

And of course the music’s great, which is why the audience was 90% 50-plus. It was our music. And mainly pretty fantastic. They performed it well, a little OTT in places but pretty much anything by the Four Tops, Smokey Robinson, The Temptations, Diana Ross, Martha Reeves, etc, etc, etc, is a pretty good starting point.

Ok, these shows ‘tell the story’ behind the music. But so do all those fab BBC4 documentaries that I’ve been addicted to for… since the BBC went up to ‘4’. And they play the real thing. And have the real faces speaking about it. But heh, this is ‘entertainment’, ain’t’a fucking documentary. Yeah, but I wish it was. Because then they wouldn’t come into the audience for a little ‘join-in’ sesh. Oh. No. I was safe, I was in the Circle. But any semi-decent show immediately becomes a downmarket shit-fest for semi-drunk daytrippers from Blackpool as soon as they get a few slappers on stage for some karaoke.

That’s where they lost me totally. Sadly. Because the cast works hard. Really hard. And does it well. Ok, unless you’re Marvin Gaye you really have no right singing ‘What’s going on?’ but he’s been dead years so that’s difficult. So its ‘a trubute’. Ok, I can almost live with that, until the singer walked down ‘among us’.

What was much more interesting though is the awakening I had.

I was 14 when the Temptations brought out ‘Ball of Confusion’ and I loved it. Great song, great dance tune, fab, blah, blah, teenage adolescent blah. But it wasn’t a ‘fun’ song. It wasn’t ‘baby love’ or ‘my girl’, this was a song about the state of the world, the state of America, and racism. 6 years after the civil rights bill was passed and still there was an almost-apartheit situation in many southern states. And a full apartheit in music. ‘White’ radio stations wouldn’t play ‘black’ music. The sponsors wouldn’t allow it. Segregation was outlawed in 1964 but continued in so many real ways.

And I never realised that in 1970. Didn’t occur to me in, even then, multi-cultural, liberal Britain, that the USA, the country we all idolised and aspired to, was in some parts just like the South Africa we’d boycotted, banned and hated. And the music of Motown, like all good music, was a reflection of the society that spawned it.

Must listen to the words more carefully.

Happy Sunday. Ok, not for Jose Morinho, but for everyone else.

A xxxx

The Brexit vote, that fateful day that has so far increased the price of an Apple Mac by £300 and dropped the pound 20% against the dollar and the Euro (funny money used by the garlic eaters of Western Europe and the racists and anti-semites of Eastern Europe), was on June 23rd. Since that day, over 4 months ago, they are still talking about ‘having the vote again’.

Bad losers blame the system. Which is why the Liberal party has been banging on for Proportional Representation for 50 years.

The rationale behind the re-vote demander’s claim is that both sides misrepresented their ‘facts’ and effectively lied to the electorate, consistently and enduringly, they told lies, stretched hypotheses, distorted facts.

In which case every election in democratic history should be re-run. Posthumously where necessary. Politicians lie. Its what they do. The word ‘politician’ comes from the ancient Greek ‘poli’- lying, ‘ticia’- fucking scumbag. We know they lie. They all do. And cheat and use horrible and devious tactics.

I didn’t want to leave Europe. Mainly because I can’t see how my country will benefit by the cost of my holidays rising by 25%. But I accept the result. And however reluctantly I accept it, there will be no cry for a re-vote from this man. Unless someone is prepared to pay me £365 million a week to do so.

America is different. They vote directly for a person. Assuming either Hillary or Donald is a person. I’m not convinced. So the process starts off much more personal, much more contentious than our elections. And then it goes to the next level. Hyperspace level. Exponentially higher than the levels of bullshit us Brits are used to.

Don will only accept the result, basically, if he wins. Tosser. And why? Because he feels the press have conspired against him, and the Democrats too. He may even have a point. Every sane and sensible person SHOULD be conspiring against Trump. But that’s his position.

Then yesterday the FBI re-open the Hillary email-gate investigation that closed once in July. Re-opened 10 days before the election. And this is all Donald’s Christmases come at once. But will he then refuse to accept a victory (should he, heaven forbid, win) on the grounds that Hillary has been conspired against? Yeah, right.

Trump won’t see the hypocrisy in this, he’s way too self-centred to appreciate it. But you just have to ask why, and how, the FBI could suddenly do this, at this time, if some ‘influence’ had not arrived from the Billionaire’s camp. Is it right for a very powerful, national agency, effectively decide an election?

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

West Ham United are struggling to find sponsors for their new stadium. Currently named ‘the London stadium’, in honour of the city they stole it from, the club are desperate to find ‘that deal’ but have now almost exhausted all the middle eastern airlines with no sign of success. They’re now approaching Stanley Knives to see if they’d like to spend 50 million quid having their product name emblazoned across the former Olympic Park centrepiece and others have been approached too.

It could become The Stab Vest. The Knuckle Duster. How about the Pie & Mash? Like its a big pub or cafe? Real East End stuff. How great would that be? Ok, not very, granted. But its a thought. Because otherwise David Gold will just do some corporate shuffling of funds and call the stadium The Anne Summers. Or why not just The Dildo? An appropriate metaphor for many of those who frequent the place. And I dare say Mr Gold could find a way to use his corporation to gain from a massive naming rights deal in his stadium, and get the council to pay 96% of it. He has ‘form’ in such matters.

Or they could call it: The 1984! In honour of the retrospective they appear to be staging there at the moment. Bringing back all the joys of the past, all the history of inter-city-firms, of mass violence, pre-match, post-match, during-match, or riots, running battles down high streets, hurling missiles, all the fun of the past. And also ‘The 1984’ would tip its hat at the futuristic dystopian world Orwell created as his version of a ‘hell-on-earth’. Which is again an appropriate metaphor for West Ham’s stadium.

The sad thing (one of 96) is that with the advent of the Premiership, with the shifting of the game ever corporate-wards, with the massive money in the game and its every gentrifying effect, we thought the ‘bovver boy’ days had been consigned to yesteryear. But apparently not in the East End, where they have risen like the phoenix from the ashes of the shit-hole that was the Boleyn ground.

They’ve identified 200 scumbags from this and other photos of the Chelsea match t’other night. Who’ll be banned for probably 10 years from football. My worry is: then where will they go? They’re going to want to start fights and hit people, I’d much rather they were doing it at The 1984 than on the streets of London. Much rather they were hitting Chelsea fans than little girls in TopShop.

You can put lipstick on a pig…

Happy Friday

A xxxx