Andy's Glasses

In bridge you play your hand in spades, clubs, hearts, diamonds or no-trumps. Last night, during a particularly challenging rubber, I decided to call ‘no-trumps’, a ‘clinton’. In honour of…

and now I’m bored with it. Not bridge, never. But ‘that’. Its over. Thank fuck for that.

If you want to travel to Stoke (no idea why you would, other than for football; but that’s the place they chose in the paper) the train will get you there in 1 hour 20 mins. Once we’ve ‘invested’ (read: ‘pissed away’) the 70/80/90 billion quid on the proposed HS2 (high speed railway), that time will come down to just one hour. Giving you 20 minutes extra time to enjoy the pleasures of that fair city. Phah.

If you go by ‘hyperloop’, it will take 12 minutes. The 400 miles between LA and San Fran (that’s more like it; give us glamour, give us cool, fucking Stoke!) would take just half an hour.

This ‘thing’ was kind of invented by the Galileo of our times, Elon Musk. The paypal dude who went on to create Tesla cars and space rockets and other really cool stuff. But after working it out he just put the idea ‘out there’ for others to use. What a mensch.

A ‘hyperloop’ is a massive tube that sits on stilts. And inside it there are pods in which people can travel at 760mph through the vacuum tube. It is, apparently, a cross between ‘Concorde, a railgun and an air hockey table’. Basically, the pods are not propelled but more ‘fired’ through the tube. And being a vacuum there’s no air to slow you down or create friction. Or, errr, breathe. But I’m sure they’ll work that out. And because the tube is on stilts, you don’t need to spend billions and billions flattening hundreds of miles of ‘track’.

The first one is being built now. To run between our two favourite Emirates; Dubai and Abu Dhabi. 78 miles, 12 minutes. Be completed in 2020 by a Danish company called B.I.G.

I’m going. Having never visited the uber-luxurious culture-void of the tackiest most superficial place in the world (other than South Manchester, and I’ve never visited there either) I will go to Dubai in 2020, just to have a go on the hyperloop. Speed of sound. Mach 1. And me. Oh yeahhhhhh.

Happy Thursday. Now I’m getting on the Tube (6mph; 6 miles in 34 minutes)

A xxxx

That was the phrase that greeted me on The Godson’s facebook post this morning. Its brilliant. But requires a little thought. Just a little. In fact its much too clever for the Godson to have conjured it up himself but I’m just very proud he copied all 5 words without making a spelling mistake.

Donald Trump is the new President of the Unaaarted States of Ameeeeericaah.

Will Americans be subject to the same border control restrictions to the UK as the Poles, the Romanian pick-pockets and the middle-east boat-people? As they flock from their homes to avoid what will follow?

Though in his ‘acceptance speech’ this morning he was very up-beat. And he intends to make America prosperous. That’s unusual. Get people in jobs (building walls), tighten security (lynch mobs searching out Mussslims or anyone who might be or might one day become, Mussslims). He’s going to create jobs, prosperity, infra-structure, wealth, work and regular visits from Santa Claus. Its so easy what needs to be done; its amazing no previous prez-to-be had ever thought about it. Then it turned into the barmitzvah speech he never had, or the Grammy-winning speech he never gave, as he thanked all the lovely people that he’s spent the last 18 months annihilating in public.

Hillary? She’s been banging on about the ‘glass ceiling’, making it all about whether America is ‘ready for a woman president’. But this result wasn’t about ‘a woman president’, it was about ‘that woman president’. If it was Michelle Obama (praise her saintly soul) we’d have been listening to an acceptance speech rap this morning instead.

But more importantly: HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT THEY’RE DOING TO TOBLERONE???? Its a crime against… against me. I love Toblerone. And chocolate, as we know, is not about what it made from so much as the ‘mouth-fill’. Which is why a Cadburys Flake tastes different from a Freddo. Same chocolate, different mouth-fill. Its about the texture. And they’re fucking about with Toblerone. Damned Swiss. I bet FIFA are involved. Either by corruption or by deciding that old, proper Toblerone was ‘too much a political statement’ for their fragile little minds to cope with.

What an awful day this is becoming…

Happy (??) Doomsday

A xxxx

Someone is now planning another lawsuit over Brexit. Cos we really need another one. The one we have isn’t really enough trouble that civil war is now imminent and the entire judiciary is about to be sent to a gulag in Hartlepool until they can ‘learn to get the right answers’.

Now someone is intending to demand another referendum (NOOOOOOOO!!!! ANYTHING BUT THAT, ANYTHING!!!!) because of false claims made by both camps during the pre-vote debacle. Mainly by the Leavers but both sides stretched the truth way beyond the point where it had any truth left in it.

£365million A DAY TO GO TO THE NHS IF WE LEAVE!!!! Oh fuck off. But that kind’a thing.

So because of these misleading (to the electorate) distortions, the vote has no validity.

As if MPs are honour-bound to be honest. They should be, but they’re not. The only ‘check’ in place is the other side. If they think claims are wrong or totally exaggerated they can say so and use it as a rod to beat the enemy with.

And then I heard a fantastic statistic. Not that I believe in anyone’s statistics unless I know who’s paying for it. But this seemed valid. As I heard it spoken by a comedian on a current affairs quiz show. Can’t be more significant than that, surely?

They’ve been monitoring every word spoken by Clinton and Trump (haven’t we fucking all) and have calculated that Hillary runs at 24% true statements. Which apparently, and rather disgustingly, is perfectly average at the hustings. Trump runs at 4%. And that includes stating his name, rank and serial number.

America is all wrong for us, time-wise. The elections don’t start til lunchtime and by the time Hawaii has finished it’ll be tomorrow morning. Not that you learn much whilst voting is taking place. But I’m going to stay up anyway (yeah; right) and watch the baseball-hatted nation as it leaves the polls. And I’m going to have an ‘American themed party’. Not sure what to serve foodwise, not sure it even matters, as long as the portions are FUCKING HUMUNGOUS.

Happy US Voting Day

A xxxx

Arsene Wenger has managed Arsenal since the Ice Age. Not the last one, the Ice Age prior to that. Humans weren’t formed. You could walk from Siberia to Alaska across the ice. Can you imagine, a real ice age with no-one there to blame cars/planes/carbon emissions?? Anyway, Wenger, been there forever. And whenever they play Spurs we sing to him. Our special Wenger song. As soon as he stands up, normally because someone’s unwrapped the cotton wool on one of his delicate little superstars, we sing: ‘sit down you paedophile, sit down you paedophile…’ and (you’ll have to trust me on this) its very funny. Always makes me laugh. The mere fact that Arsene (probably) is not a paedophile, has never been one and would be horrified by the very thought, is largely irrelevant. This is football. Its much more important than mere facts. And Wenger simply deserves all the abuse you can hurl at him. Because on Friday he stated that ‘he’s not worried about Spurs, Arsenal are just too strong for them’. And because he’s a bad loser and an even worse draw-er. ‘2 points lost au jours d’hui’ he smugly asserted after the game yesterday. Never credits the other team with anything, other than the invisible penalties they inflicted on his players that the biased refs failed to pick up.

Arsene Wenger (manager extraordinaire; and sadly, he really is) is thus my ‘Tosser of the Week’. And pretty much, every week.

Meanwhile, over in Pukesville, USA, the presidential campaign rolls on. And on. And… will it NEVER FUCKING END?!?!?!?!? Oh yeah, tomorrow, its over. Praise be the Lord. And Hillary has been exonerated by the FBI. Again. Her emails were harmless. All 650,000 of them. Just rubbish, non-sensitive, shopping lists, orders from Amazon, penis extensions, usual rubbish. Helluva lot of rubbish but there ya go.

I would execute the head of the FBI. Just shoot him where he sits. He needs no trial, no judge nor jury, just shoot the bastard and be done. For causing such a massive massive nothing. For destabilising the most unstable election run-in of all time. All for nothing.

So who you gonna vote for; Donald Trump or Arsene Wenger?

Happy monday

A xxxx

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