Andy's Glasses

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

So we’re bombing in Syria. Despite my misgivings, Cameron won the day and the bombing’s started. Good. I said my bit, but I’m not unhappy with the eventual outcome because as long as they realise that bombing alone will achieve very little and lots of other avenues have to be taken as well, then what harm can a few bombs do? Oh, lots, yeah, forgot that. Corbyn reminded me. There ya go.

But now ISIS have moved into Afghanistan. How is that even possible? England and America couldn’t defeat the Taliban but ISIS just push them aside. Though, obviously, we’d kind’a softened them up quite a bit. And they’re crumbling into Islamist disarray. There’s a new government there, installed under our protection, but everyone ignores them anyway.

So ISIS move into Eastern Afghanistan, on the Pakistani border. having taken over the local group there, Wilyat Khurasan. I would say ‘in a bloodless coup’ but it probably wasn’t. So let’s call it a ‘merger’ between like-mindeds. And now ISIS are recruiting. With their patented technique of: either join us or we’ll hack your fucking head off with a potato-peeler; then start on your family.

Never mind, we’re bombing them. Ok, not necessarily over there, but in other places.

Then I saw the map. The map of (most of the) world, showing where ISIS either recruit or cause acts of mindless violence and horror. And if you imagine the world as, say, 100%, then ISIS only have influence in about 30% of it. Which is ok until you realise that 60% of the planet is water and ISIS don’t swim. Though apparently they do drown quite nicely if you add a little concrete.

You are completely safe in a small unpronounceable town in North-West Scotland. As you would be on a raft off the coast of Papua New Guinea. 57 miles south west of Slovenia also claims an area of 227 square yards where ISIS have no influence whatsoever. Not yet, anyway. The rest of the world is slowly becoming engulfed in the rot that is ‘the so-called Islamic State’.

Where do they get their money? A lot of money. Billions of monies. And when you wanna catch baddies, ya follow the money. Cut that off and its a different battle.

Good luck with that.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

My old neighbour, Ian, (now moved out to ‘the country’ for some peace and quiet from horrible neighbours) retired early from his City bank job, as they do, and decided to take a masters degree. In football. Ok, not football, exactly, but he was working (and possibly still may be) on a theory suggesting that the better the footballer the greater his intelligence. I told him to expect a serious negative correlation. That the better the man is at football, the more stupid, uneducated and dim he’ll probably be. Based on the Rooney Study, Conway et al, 2014.

Yet this week a premier league player (well Sunderland are just about still in the Premier league, if he fails and needs resits we may have to change that) will graduate with a first class degree in Economics and Business Management from Newcastle University. And that is rare. Its like finding a monk who can break-dance; a government minister who rides bulls in the rodeo; a ballet-dancing tree-surgeon; a UKIP candidate who can read.

Duncan Watmore comes from a clever family, yet is great at football. So after being rejected at 12 years old by Manchester United’s youth academy, he returned to education and played his football at amateur level. But like many Man U rejects before him; Paul Pogba, Kevin de Bruyne, he was a talented individual, but just peaked a little later. Kids are taken into the system when they’re about 8 and turfed out when/if the clubs find any kind of insufficiency. Its fucking brutal. Yet every kid wants to play premiership football; 100 grand a week, all the Lamborghinis you can eat, all the tattoos you can fit down one arm, all the groupies you can gang rape; what’s not to like???

But they strive for that in lieu of an education. You can’t have both. You don’t have time for both. And if you’re one of the very lucky, very top-of-the-tree few, you can make your first team debut at 16/17/18. Like Rooney and many others. And the dream has been reached.

So football is full of uneducated dimwits spoilt rotten by the massive rewards they gain. Education is the anti-culture in football. Its a joke. A slur. An insult. Grounds for taking the piss.

Graeme Le Saux, former Chelsea and Blackburn defender, spent his whole career ridiculed because he chose to read a broadsheet newspaper, rather than a titty-filled comic like his teammates. They called him ‘The Poof’. Not because he was gay, which he wasn’t, but because he was educated to some minor degree, spoke relatively nicely and took an interest in the world beyond diamond ear studs and video games.

The Americans breed their sportspeople in their colleges. It forces them, if not to get an education worthy of the name, at least to play their sport in a vaguely educational environment. But College Football, for instance, is massive. As big as NFL. So the young adults go to College, where they play and train all day and they get a Ferrari each, three houses and $4 million a year. Even though they’re strictly ‘amateur’. Its a ‘scholarship’.

Wouldn’t it be just lovely if now and again they could interview a footballer after the match and he could actually speak. Like he knew something. In an informed manner. Proper sentences.

But at the end’a the day, issa game, innit, iss’all abart the winnin’. Free points is free points.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

What you’re looking at here is a miracle of modern times. Its no burning bush. Not even a burning car. Thank God, cos that’s Mel’s car. But miracle it is.

Because last night we went to see Carol. Ahhhh, Carol. Oh Carol. It was at the Everyman in Hampstead. Which is the illuminated building behind the car. The one with ‘hunger games’ just about visible.

We go to the Everyman quite a bit. Have done for years. And we drive into Hampstead and park. Usually half a mile away and trudge back up the hill. Because parking in Hampstead village is impossible. Daytime is bad, night is worse. So many restaurants. So many people, so many fucking cars. Yet last night as we arrived, 10 minutes early to allow for a good hike, a car pulled away leaving… The Holy Grail. The best parking space in the world. Tears sprang from my eyes. It was emotional.

First World problems.

Unfortunately the film didn’t really live up to the parking space. Its a lovely film. Its an exceptionally beautiful film. The acting is fabulous. The clothes and sets and cars from 1950s New York are just wonderful. But its sloooooooooooow. Really slow.

Not that I was in any rush. I had the best parking space money can’t buy, was seated on a lovely red sofa with my first wife, sipping my latte, I had not a care in the world. I was ready to be entertained. And I was. A bit. Just not enough.

Its a lesbian love story. Set in a time when such activity was rather frowned upon and deemed amoral. The Carol in question was married and fell for a shop-girl, played by Rooney Mara. Who is at times exquisite, elfin, delicate, Hepburnesque. Whereas Cate Blanchett looked like her mum. Albeit a fantastically dressed mum.

I’ve had a couple of lesbian relationships myself in my time. Well, I’ve been on a couple of lesbian porn sites, which is the same thing, surely? They weren’t as slow moving as this. Nothing like.

Not sure Carol lives up to all the massive hype really. But stunning to watch. For a bit.

Came home, turned on the 24 hour news channels and they were all reporting ‘live from California’. The latest shoot up in San Bernadino. Great news reporting. Helicopter film of a shot-out SUV (the ‘perp’s’) in a car park. With the newscaster telling us all the things they didn’t yet know. “We don’t know how many killed yet”. “We don’t know if the police have shot the perpetrator”. “Or perpetrators”. “We don’t know how many shooters there were”. All this for about 20 minutes.

Message to 24 hour news channels with all the time in the world and not much to fill it: COME BACK LATER. MOVE TO SOMETHING ELSE.

It made Carol seem fast-paced.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

Much as it grieves me to ever agree with Jeremy Corbyn, I don’t think we should bomb Syria. Make mine a ‘non’ vote. Not that I get a vote.

Let me make perfectly clear (a political expression meaning ‘you won’t understand any of this’) my position. In case it impacts today’s crucial vote on the proposed air-strike action.

Firstly: I hate ISIS. Ok, that’s a given.
Secondly: I hate Jeremy Corbyn. But I’m not agreeing with his reasons, just the outcome.

Corbyn wants us to ‘have talks’. With whom? ISIS? Asad?? One of the many factions of anti-government Islamists who aren’t (at the moment) affiliated with ISIS? Maybe with Putin. That’ll be interesting. As Russia has its own agenda completely out there.

So whilst I’m generally ‘a lover, not a fighter’, I’m really not opposed to war, to bombings, to all manner of force, defence of principles, nuclear deterrents and martial arts. I just think you have to pick your battles.

You cannot destroy ISIS. Something that for some reason Obama, Cameron and the other nations and combined 22,752 expert advisers don’t seem to comprehend. Its an ideology, not a ‘thing’. And if you did manage to kill every single member of that hateful organisation, another would immediately spring out of the ground to replace it. ISIS is merely the end point of a sick and distorted philosophy, armed with religious fervour and which feeds on vengeance and victim status. It exists to exact revenge. Bombing will make the philosophy grow, it will not diminish it. The creation of thousands more ‘martyrs’ would make them stronger. They have no fear of death. Radical Islamists revere death and happily sacrifice themselves, their children, anyone, for ‘the cause’. That’s just one measure of how fucked up they are. They love to be persecuted.

And you can’t persecute much more than 20,000 bombs. That would be the best recruiting device ISIS could ever dream of. You can’t apply our logic that ‘life is sacred’ and ‘give up or everyone dies’ thinking it will get results. It won’t. Not the results we want anyway.

The result will be revenge. In London. Paris. Washington. Berlin. Who knows.

But I don’t fear that. I just think it shows the futility of the intended action and the lack of understanding by us and our allies, who really, we have no choice but to support. Even though we’re all stupid in doing so and inviting horrors to be enacted upon us.

And if the bombing is successful, then what? Asad is a bad man. Putin is armed up, in the neighbourhood and keen to defend the man. The ‘rebel militia’ in Syria who aren’t ISIS are simply a different type of terrorist. Mainly because they’re Shia, rather than Sunni. So you get rid of ISIS and Hezbollah take over. Great plan.

We don’t understand Syria. Which is why we’re now bombing to effectively protect the man we wanted to bomb ourselves 2 years ago.

Every other middle eastern action has ended disastrously. Iraq. Afghanistan. Libya. Awful. Create a vacuum for extremists to fill. You can’t impose democracy on people who have no understanding of it nor desire for it. Its a philosophy as alien to middle easterners as suicide bombing is to westerners.

Its a lose-lose situation, whichever way you look at it. So I’m voting an emphatic ‘non!!’ thank you very much.

Happy Black Wednesday (well we have black everything else, why not??)

A xxxx

150 world leaders gathered in Paris yesterday for the first totally all-world global warming conference. I wasn’t invited. Bit annoying really, as I’ve reduced my carbon footprint to a size 2 and don’t burn any coal whatsoever.

But conference they did. If ‘conference’ can be a verb. Probably is in America. Like ‘golf’.

So the first thing to note was that someone inevitably calculated the carbon cost of getting the 150 most important people in the world together for the day. And its big. Hundreds of private or personal jets, thousands of big, bulky, bullet-proofed limousines chugging out their diesel fumes between airport and meeting. They’d have been better off on video link. The planet would be better off.

Global warming is a ‘thing’. Its a fact. Its a problem. But most of all, its a cause.

And a cause that has to be addressed at a national level. Because we can turn off the central heating for an hour each night to ‘do our bit’ but all you end up with is a wife with freezing cold hands moaning at your concerns for the future of polar bears. You can change your car to a Prius and adopt a suitably smug attitude, but in reality, carbon emissions on a personal level are totally negligible. The major sources of carbon are industry, air travel and taxis.

However, there has actually never been a satisfactory link established between carbon emissions and global warming. Lots of scares, lots of scientific papers, but no causal link.

There are schools in several London boroughs where the pollution is terrible. Above the acceptable limit set by some boffin or other. So our kids are being polluted, which is horrible. But that is a different problem to ‘global warming’. Its localised. The assumption being that local pollution will lead to the polar ice caps melting. But it doesn’t. It just leads to kids getting coughs and colds. And thus is a bad thing. But a different bad thing.

China has the worst pollution in the world. It hangs over their cities day and night like fog. So they are now doing things the Chinese way and building solar ‘farms’ the size of small counties to produce some of the electricity that would formerly be made by fossil fuel. But only some.

India on the other hand have three quarters of their population living without electricity. Not in protest, but because they’ve never had it. And they want it. They just sit there at night watching a blank tv screen. But to produce the electricity they burn coal. Which they have in such abundance that its cheap. Much, much cheaper than any alternative. And the worst thing of all for carbon emissions and pollution.

I don’t know what the answer is. Perhaps that’s why they didn’t invite me. I’m not even sure what the question is any longer.

But whatever: IT MUST STOP. NOW!!! (but what?)

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

Not mine. I wasn’t fatigued. My team were. Spurs. Knackered. Shattered. Exhausted after their ‘quick’ trip to Azerbaijan for Thursday night’s game. Its a fact. Proven statistically. And statistics never lie. Except when they do. Which is often. But that’s mainly when they’re produced by some government agency or other. When produced by Carling Opta, the people who measure every step, run, pass, slip, shot and fart, they’re right on the money.

And according to them, the Spurs team yesterday collectively ran a total of 108km. That’s a lot. A 10k run for every outfield player whilst the goalie runs round and round his area for 8. Something like that. But in games that haven’t followed the Thursday night Europa games, Spurs have run over 120km. That’s 10% more, and some. 10% more energy, 10% more effort, 70% more goals. Ok, I made up the goals bit, because we didn’t score one yesterday so even 1 goal would be an improvement of (literally and mathematically) infinite proportions.

Sadly, you don’t get more points for excuses, even if they’re validated statistically. So we just got the one point for our nil-nil draw against Chelsea.

Is that a good result? Would have been great last year, when Chelsea were ‘unbeatable’. Yet, oddly, that was when we beat them 5-3. I remember it vividly. The best day of my life. On the grounds that the birth of children is an inherently messy, slimy affair with lots of swearing and abuse.

Still, we kept a clean sheet, unlike childbirth. Morinho, the greatest hypocrite when it comes to accusations of bus parking, played with caution and consideration. As should any manager of a ‘lower half team’. So arguably 0-0 was an even better result for them.

I missed the game completely. 12 o’cock kick off? We were lunching to celebrate my dad’s 91st birthday (the grand old man seen here with his elder granddaughter).

So I returned in time to see the second half of the Arsenal match. Alexis Sanchez had already limped off, Koscielny had gone too and Norwich were really fantastic. Delia must have been proud.

So the weekend was ‘the dream’ for Manchester City. They won, everyone else (who matter) merely drew. Liverpool are in fact starting to matter, though they don’t do their mattering in a very convincing manner.

Amazing game at Bournemouth with the seeming winner scored in the 95th minute by Everton, only to be equalised in the 98th minute by the home team.

13 games undefeated. The pressure’s on, the heat’s turned up, and I’m only hoping my own fitness is sufficient to see out the season properly.

Happy Monday

A xxxx