Andy's Glasses

I hate Spurs. I hate Newcastle. I certainly hate Arsenal. And I hate football.

Football is the new religion. Its what people do on ‘the 7th day’. Though also on the 2nd, 3rd, often 4th, sometimes 5th (Europa) and rarely 6th. And the 1st. Sometimes. But groups of men (religion is always about men; women can join in but they don’t really count) join together for a common cause and sing and pray together for a few hours for spiritual cleansing. And swearing. And drinking. Its about being part of something bigger. Something spiritual. Something important. Camaraderie and worship. Church, football. The latter being generally more sincere. Certainly more consistent. You don’t get 25 pages every monday dedicated to the hymn of the week, or the bible passage. But you do about football.

And in times of hardship, religion needs to be stronger. When someone gets ill; has an accident, business fails, its never a matter of God not caring, or not noticing (He notices everything; He’s like my mother-in-law) but of allowing shit to happen. Telling you (apparently) that you need to try harder, worship louder.

Thus with football. When lofty Spurs, 14 games undefeated and playing great football, come up against lowly Newcastle, struggling at the foot of the table, despite beating Liverpool last week, the result should have been a given. Free points. Fourth place, blah, blah, blah.

Man plans, God laughs. Even though He’s a Spurs fan too. I saw him in the West Stand one day eating a smoked salmon bagel.

It started so well. We were hard, fast, aggressive and great. We scored, all was according to plan at half time.

When it all started to go wrong. We came out playing like the rest of the match was now just a formality. Just plod around for 45 minutes until you can look at your phone for the league table. No sweat. Stay calm.

So, just as against Stoke (2-0 up, final score 2-2), against Leicester (1-0 up, conceded equaliser right at the end), Arsenal (1-0 up, failed to capitalise on superiority, drew the game), we managed this time not just to squander the lead but to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Lost 2-1. To Newcastle. Who are so bad they’re even below Chelsea in the league.

Its all gone to shit. God help me.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

Two players scored hat tricks this week. Both foreigners playing for English clubs in European matches. That’s what I call ‘multiculturalism’. That and chicken tikka massala.

The similarities continue. Both have been playing somewhat indifferently of late, and for most of the time before that too.

Olivier Giroud is basically a French tosser. Everyone says so. Even his mother. He scores a few goals, but never enough. He squanders more than he converts and yet, being the only official ‘striker’ that Arsenal possess, he is much praised when he does well and generally forgiven when he doesn’t. Mainly due to lack of options.

Eric Lamela is Spurs most expensive player. And in his first season it must be said, he didn’t do a great deal to justify the asking price. Nor to justify the decision to spend so much on a player of questionable ability in our league. But we like Eric. Because he tries. And sometimes he can be rather spectacular. And sometimes he really really isn’t.

Then this week, maybe because of the new moon, maybe Jupiter aligned with Uranus, maybe just good karma, both these guys hit three in their games.

Mauricio Pochettino, the Spurs manager praised Eric, rightfully, and described the performance as a great thing, a step forward, proof that the work in progress is going in the right direction.

Whereas Arsene Wenger claimed yesterday that ‘Giroud is a world class striker!!!’ From tosser to world class in just 3 goals. A record. Even for Arsenal. Though what this really means is that Arsenal will not be going shopping in January. For years Arsenal have desperately needed a ‘world class striker’ but none have been forthcoming. So rather than keep trying at the risk that he might have to actually pay out some money for something they really need, he’s just said: ‘its ok, look no more, we’ve already got one’.

Ahhhhh, happy saturday

A xxxx

I hate a dilemma. Everyone does. That’s why they’re called ‘dilemmas’ and not ‘wonderful things’ or ‘chocolate ice cream with sprinkles’.

Came home from Tai Chi last night, energised, toughened and with my yin fully aligned with my yang. And a bit sweaty. Quick shower and on with the news. We love the news. And then…

On BBC was Question Time. I love Question Time. Bunch of horrible political party-liners squirming under the questioning of real people, trying desperately to defend the indefensible. And on ITV there was Europa Cup Highlights.

And it was my choice. Like Sophie, I had to make it alone and by myself. Mel was in Sudoku-world and is not a great fan of QT anyway. And although she’s no big lover (massive understatement) of televised footy; wonderful woman that she is, she is delightfully tolerant if its Spurs. What a saint. I am blessed.

And, by sheer coincidence and good fortune, it WAS Spurs and, for once, I had no idea of the score. Because it was ‘only the UEFA’ and no-one really cares about that. Except we do. Because when your team plays you want them to play well. And hopefully win.

So what do I do? What did I do??

I knew that Question Time would be heavily about ‘London’s third runway’. We need one, we’re going to get one, its ridiculous we don’t already have one and the only question is where we put it. And I don’t care. Simply don’t care. Its just inconceivable that a city of the stature of London is deficient in aeroplane capacity. Third worldish. Stupid. But no-one wants the noise and pollution in their back gardens. That’s the debate. One which David Cameron keeps putting off til… tomorrow. MAKE YOUR DECISION DAVID.

Like I did. And watched the football. Which was the right choice. Really the right choice. We won so well. So prettily. Against a Monaco side ‘that beat Arsenal in February’. Although its not because (literally) half their team was sold in the summer. The good half. Making my boys look great. And boys they were. A different team, with ‘the others’ getting a runaround. 4-1. Eric Lamela scored a hat-trick. I thought I must have dozed off and dreamt it, such is the likelihood of that happening. But happen it did.

I definitely made the right choice. Mel agreed.

Happy victorious Friday.

A xxxx

Its true, British politicians can suffer from an overdose of subtlety. We do things gently. We like ‘softly-softly’ approaches to things. Some would say there’s a lot of beating around bushes.

Not so in America. They do things bigger, better, certainly louder and when all else fails, gung-ho is the way to go. That could almost be Donald Trump’s campaign slogan. Replacing the current one: Vote Donald; he’s a total TOSSER!!!

I have no issue with ‘outspoken’ if what you’re speaking out about is worth hearing. Or even correct, factual or common sense. I’m not a big adherent to political correctness for its own sake. Let’s call a spade a spade.

But you have to get the facts right, Donald. You have to base your outspokenness on truth. Speaking in sensationalist soundbytes is fine as long as they’re correct. You don’t have to always sound like a fucking cowboy taking his last stand The Alamo.

So to follow up with his ‘ban all Muslims from entering America for the next 5 years’ idea on Monday, the candidate for the Republican candidacy yesterday went a step further. “London has no-go areas which are so full of radicalised Muslims that the police are scared to go there”, he said.

Yeah, put some ‘meat on the bone’ of the ‘ban Muslim’ argument. It appeals to the terminally ignorant knee-jerkers who sadly represent 93% of middle America. Shout loud, then appeal to the inner John Wayne lurking inside every Kentuckian and Nebraskan and get them to arm up.

Yeeee-haaaah, they cry. Why, them towelheads is just like them injuns was and needs to be treated the same way. Martha? Where’s my guns??

If London had areas that were completely radicalised that would be great because the police would be able to go in and get them. Unfortunately, radicalised Muslims are much cleverer than Donald Trump and tend to keep so deeply underground that even their own families are unaware of their status. Unlike Donald they don’t stand around shouting about themselves all the time.

Donald loves guns. All republicans love guns. And that’s served America very well. Right. But now even that party have spoken out against the Trumpster and his latest embarrassing drivel spouted as fact. So he may be forced to stand as and ‘Independent’. Because America needs a proper leader, like Don. Someone who hates women, unless they’re ‘babes’, who understands nothing and reacts to the banner headline without reading any further.

Tosser.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

My problem is (well, one of my problems; a 3Gb computer is insufficient to list them all) that when I read books I engage with them. They become my reality. Same with movies. Which is why I love reading and film. Because they are the ultimate escape. Because when I put the book down or leave the cinema, I AM JAMES BOND. I am Woody Allen. I wasn’t Carol last week because lesbianism is tricky for a man with a beard and I can’t wear heels. But I become the characters. I can’t help it. I’m a spy. I’m a gigolo. I’m breaking codes to beat the nazis. The Stephen Hawking movie presented me with minor difficulties.

And I’m currently reading some Ken Follett novel or other (they’re all about the same really), this time set in the years preceding the 2nd world war. The time when Europe became fascist. Spain, Germany, then Italy, and Russia was for years a fascist state, but in its own way and with a slightly modified set of published ideologies, but by any definition Russia under Stalin (and indeed under Putin) is in every way a fascist state.

Britain toyed with fascism. They liked the uniforms and moustaches. So Moseley set up his band of brown-shirt scum and was backed whole-heartedly by the aristocracy, half the conservatives and The Daily Mail who hailed him as the messiah.

So ‘we’ went to war against fascism. We had to. It controls, it dictates, it removes all freedoms and all democratic process. It suppresses the truth. By controlling the press, by removing freedom of speech, by not allowing opposition. Thus the secret police arrive, the thought police looking for ‘subversion’ and the next thing is they’ve arrested granny for saying how the price of tea has gone up by 17 pennies and a farthing.

But what Fascism also does is appeal to a threatened indigenous population. Hitler will make the great depression go away. Franco will keep the churches in charge. Mussolini will… errr… good question; what the fuck did Mussolini ever do? But these leaders will MAKE THE PROBLEM GO AWAY. Whether that problem is poverty, instability or immigration.

And now France has taken a big step towards fascism as a knee-jerk reaction to the Paris attacks, horrendous though they were. WE NEED TO CONTROL IMMIGRATION!!! they cry. Then Daft Donald Trumpety-Trump pipes up that America should ban all muslims for 5 years. By which time he’ll be down to just one hair on his head, grown to 17 feet and wrapped round and round and round his horrible pink scalp.

The National Front took 30% of the total vote in the elections for regional councils. That’s massive. Because they hate immigrants. The fact that they also hate most people already living in France is beside the point.

Being French, even the fascists are gorgeous. But don’t be fooled. A Le Pen is a Le Pen is a Le Pen. And they are all totally fucking evil.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

Valencia drew a match on the weekend. That’s interesting. And wouldn’t normally warrant a look past the headline. Even for those of ‘you’ with almost insatiable appetites for footballing news anywhere, anytime, anything. The draw was against Barcelona, everyone’s dream team, and that in itself makes the result notable as Barca don’t draw many matches and they lose even less.

But this was Gary Neville’s first match as manager of Valencia. Troubled Valencia. Performing poorly, doing badly, the fans against them, the manager (old one, obviously gone). So in steps the older Neville brother.

Gary Neville started playing for Manchester United when he was about 6 years old. He probably played Pokemon with baby David Beckham. He was eventually Beckham’s best man when he married his Spice Girl.

Gary was always gobby. Lots to say for himself. Itself unusual for a footballer. And he spoke in words, sentences and paragraphs. Not just grunted clichés like most do. He was different. They used to call him the shop steward at United because he was always standing up for people, speaking out to the management against bad stuff, generally he was a loud-mouthed busy body. But in a good way.

And all the while, he was a fantastic right back. Seldom injured, Mr Reliable. Played 85 times for England too until an unfortunate back pass effectively ruined the international careers of Gary and of Paul Robinson, the goalie at the time, who never really recovered. Sadly. Cos he played for Spurs at the time. England’s England’s Number One, etc…

When he retired Gary Neville became an assistant coach at England and a tv pundit for Sky. And unlike other pundits, Neville spoke with such an intelligence and a wealth of understanding of the game that he immediately became Mr TV Football. In which he regularly criticised players and particularly managers for their errors. As ya do. Though he did it from an informed perspective, rather than just the usual cheap shots that I personally prefer.

So when the co-owners of his beloved Salford City FC, who also happen to own Valencia, offered him the job of managing the Spanish flounderers, he took it. Not because its a glamour job, not because it would be easy money, but because he felt honour-bound to stand up and be counted as a proper manager. Because to continue telling managers what they’re doing wrong on tv, with nothing to back it up, was wrong in Gary’s mind. So ok then, I’ll be a club manager and let everyone else attack me.

But being clever, the first action he took after being unleashed in Spain was to get the fans (notoriously volatile and unforgiving bunch) onside.

So a 1-1 draw with mighty Barca in your first match managing a team who’ve been crappy all season is a big result. Its a ‘win’ in every sense other than the score.

Good luck Gary. You actually deserve it.

A xxxx

Ok, so yesterday was Arsenal’s day. Unfortunately. They won, no-one else (of any importance) did. But as Arsenal lost last week, its almost acceptable. Because there has not yet emerged any really consistent leader of the league. Other than Leicester. And with all due respect to that wonderful team; they won’t win the league. Yes, it could happen. Anything can happen. Santa could be real. Jeremy Corbyn could be real. ISIS could just be a gay rights movement. Anything.

Manchester United are shit. There’s no two ways about it. They’ve played 15 games and had 19 0-0 draws. Which is as entertaining as it is mathematically possible. Everyone hates them, except LVG, who can’t understand what all the fuss from fans and pundits is all about. Which says a lot more about the man’s concept of ‘good form’ might be than about everyone else’s expectations.

Manchester City alternate between unplayable brilliance and total disaster. Yesterday’s game at Stoke was, for them, definitely the latter. Beaten 2-0, according to reports it could and should have been 5-0.

Spurs, alas and alack, failed to win at West Brom. We should’a could’a would’a but didn’t happen. Like it didn’t against Chelsea last week and especially against the Arse a few weeks ago when we really should have won. Its all about closing games out and we don’t do that yet. Maybe…

Liverpool are playing right now, so all that’s left should be Chelsea. Even though we’re not at this moment discussing the relegation fight. Which is, whether they accept it or not, where the Blues are at this moment. Its all very well laughing off such suggestions (Jose!) but oddly we don’t talk to Aston Villa about their chances of Champions League qualification, do we? Nor Bournemouth. Even though the South Coasters beat Chelsea yesterday and are only 2 points behind them.

But obviously there are differences. Chelsea are much more arrogant, obviously. And feel its their ‘right’ to finish in the top 4, even though they’re just a couple places off the bottom 4. Also Bournemouth are a nice team who play entertaining football under a great manager. And Chelsea… yeah, whatever.

Right, that’s it, the football won’t watch itself, will it?

Stabbings by white, non-muslim Englishman at Leytonstone tube station. Whatever next? Fundamentalist Jihadi Atheists?

Happy Sunday

A xxxx