Andy's Glasses

I hid under the coffee table for most of the 90 minutes (plus stoppage time) and I’m still there. I’ve got cramp in places I never even knew I had places. Mel keeps shouting at me to come out. But I can’t. I dived under the table when the 3rd Arsenal goal went in and I’ve laid there, damp with tears shed, ever since. And I’m not coming out. Ever. Well, not until we beat Arsenal next time. I appreciate that won’t be until next season, at the earliest, maybe September, possibly not until about February of next year, but I don’t care. I appreciate that I’ll gather dust. That Joey will definitely kick me. That Lila may lie on the floor to speak to me. But there I shall suffer. In silence. Though silence has never been my strong suit. I must be punished. Offer penance to the gods of football. We nearly came back. But its the ‘nearly’ that kills.

Meanwhile, just to touch back on the ‘culture wars’ once more, because they spoke to government minister about it and she actually made me very angry. Because she said that there is no cause to re-write Enid Blighton’s books, even though they’re completely sexist and racist. She insisted that Shakespeare’s obvious and frequent misogyny was ‘historically valid’, although his antisemitism was totally woke and on message for our times. She thinks we should leave Ian Fleming alone, rather than apply the razor of wokeness to his entire body of work, oozing with millions of sexual offenses, ranging from objectification, physical assault and repeated shagging, but never of ugly birds.

She’s wrong. We must rid ourselves of these terrible examples of humanity at its worst. We must re-write entire histories to eliminate slavery, racism, sexism, bad language, colonialism and The Empire. Because it was evil. We live in a post-millennial world and need to remove all traces of what happened before, in case the children learn how awful we were. We need to pretend that the Romans never indulged in orgies, ate themselves sick, then had sex with the nearest object, be it male, female, animal, mineral or vegetable. Because rather than trying to learn from history, a stupid idea if ever there was, we just need to eliminate the bad bits, the parts where we weren’t very nice, the wars, the slaughters, the religious ‘conversions’ of entire populations, its all got to go.

I’m voting for the ‘woke’ party. Even if we don’t currently have one. Because, in common with all really right-on people, I am stupid and gullible to the point where I should be locked up.

Or left under a coffee table until I realise that ‘its only football’. As if…

Happy Monday

A xxxx

They covered up the Holocaust Memorial stone in Hyde Park yesterday. Ok, so that will stop graffiti, vandalism, damage. It’s only a fucking rock. But strangely efficient as a reminder of 6 million people murdered in the Nazi Genocide of yesteryear. Yet, as a symbol of something ‘Jewish’, it is no longer safe in our City. In MY city. Because although our twit of a mayor maintains that ‘there are no no-go areas’, that is simply not the case, during ‘pro-Palestinian’ marches. Because support of Palestinians, something with which we must all surely sympathise, has been hi-jacked by the radicals into vehement hatred for all things Israel and, by not particularly logical extension, all Jews. It started with the ‘from the river to the sea’ being seen as provocative and ‘a bit much’, calling as it does, for an end to Israel and all its people. Now that phrase is normalised and barely noticed as the rhetoric has moved extreme-wards to out and out hate and reviling of all Jews. Even though probably two thirds of those attending the marches really have no idea what it all means, no more than they could identify ‘the river’ or ‘the sea’; on a map of the Middle East.

But even worse than the marches are the student protests. Both here and in the top universities in America. Where police have been involved due to the level of anti-semitism and general hate invoked by the protesters. Again, most of whom are just ‘there for fun’, with many questioned having no idea where Gaza is or who controls it.

The worst is that the other ‘villain’ of the piece is the governments of the respective countries; the UK and USA. For ‘not doing enough’. And it’s always easy to engage the young into anti-government sentiment.

Yet all this plays into Iran’s hands. The orchestrators of all the chaos. They fund Hamas and Hezbollah because they hate Israel. Then they organise October 7th as Israel were about to sign an accord with Saudi Arabia, their greatest enemy. Now we’ve reached a point where the ‘protesters’ are doing Iran’s bidding. Destabilising western democracies, which Iran despises, supporting Hamas, demanding the end of Israel and now, calling for hatred against all Jews. Other than the ‘radicals’ and their superbly efficient PR online machine, most of the ‘protesters’, the liberals, the ‘sympathisers’, those with no ‘skin in the game’, are all doing Iran’s work.

And I hope they’ll be really happy living under an Iran-ruled caliphate (their stated ultimate dream and aim). Where, ironically, the first thing that would stop would be the right to protest. Along with the right to live a free life by any understanding of the term.

At least the rain stopped for long enough to play tennis this morning.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

In normal circumstances (whatever that even means), I find the fixture between Tottenham Hotspur (blessed be their name) and Arsenal (the Devil’s team) to be exceedingly stressful. I’ve attended many and it’s difficult. I’ve watched many, hiding behind the sofa with my fingers over my eyes. Arsenal won the league in 1971 by beating Spurs, at White Hart Lane. The Nakba. Which brought about the saying ‘never again!’

Tomorrow is not in any way ‘normal circumstances’. The north London derby will be fought out with multiple possible effects on the remainder of the season. All of them ‘crucial’.

Because despite what Arsenal fans might have you believe, Spurs are not in the game just to stop Arsenal’s chances of winning the league. We have our own agenda! Though I’m not definitively saying that stopping Arsenal winning the league at any cost whatsoever, personal, emotional, financial or illegal, is not a on that agenda. But we need to win to have the chance to lose out on 4th place later in the season. We need to keep Villa in our sights. Spurs’ measure of success is slightly different because we simply never win anything.

Thus tomorrow’s game is possibly the most important match in the entire history of humanity. Even pre-humanity. When teams of Neanderthals roamed the wilderness kicking things around. Obviously it was just Bolton and Leeds then, but football goes back a long way. And never has a match been so important.

If Arsenal lose that will virtually gift the title to Manchester City. And no-one wants that. Except possibly a few horrible, unfriendly, nasty, distasteful no-goodniks wearing Spurs shirts.

Liverpool have bowed out of the title race following two defeats last week. I would say ‘bowed out gracefully’ but they don’t take loss gracefully in Liverpool. The (first) public inquiry starts next week.

Thus for Arsenal, tomorrow is a ‘must win’ (there are no ‘must loses’, by the way). And for Spurs it’s a must win too. Because otherwise, if Arsenal should decide this to be their season of destiny, we’ll never hear the fucking end of it.

And this is the north London derby. An odd kind of rivalry in which we have seriously mixed views. You can’t watch Arsenal, at times, and not admire their style. And yet the thought of them actually winning anything is like looking at Voldemort’s face. You can die.

So all I can say is: COME ON YOU SPURS. Then go and hide.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

I’m intrigued by the quest for vehicular autonomy. Why shouldn’t cars get to decide where and when they go anywhere? They’re not slaves, FFS!! They have feelings, desires, aspirations, just like the rest of us.

Alternatively, back on planet Earth, cars are now almost fully autonomous. In that they drive themselves. However, if they have accidents themselves, ‘the human’ sitting in them is responsible. Hence the murder trial in America for the geezer sitting in a so-called ‘autonomous vehicle’ which killed a pedestrian. Ok, possibly manslaughter, but if guilty, the car will be publicly crushed, with the man in it.

And there will be accidents. There’ll be disasters. Many vehicles will be sacrificed, many people will be lost, in the quest to have cars which drive themselves. Fortunately for us, most of the testing is in America and the city of choice seems to be Atlanta. Possibly because no-one like the state of Georgia, nor anyone in it, but possibly because it wants to be at the forefront.

Cars were tools, we used them. Then they’ve slowly become more and more computer controlled. Bert the mechanic became an IT consultant the day he ‘took a look’ at a car problem by plugging it into a laptop instead of opening the bonnet. Mel heats up the inside of the EV every morning, from the app, ten minutes before getting in the car. Which itself has loads of computers and a satnav which is interactive and updates, like all cars do and we take for granted. They also have cameras, showing us which lamppost we’ve just reversed into, and sensors all around which beep and whistle as we get too near to women pushing baby-buggies as we drive on the pavement because the traffic’s jamming up the road. Annoying, wheel-tugging vibrators when we cross white lines on the motorway. And ‘cruise control’ has been around for decades.

So the ‘missing link’ was ‘just’ AI. Artificial Intelligence. Mainly because most of the drivers on the road don’t possess ‘normal intelligence’. Most drive like they died yesterday. But slower. And the difference between just shit-loads of computer power and AI is that the former will understand everything that is happening whereas the latter learns from it.

Mercedes is introducing its ADAS (advanced driver assistance system) 3 (no idea what happened to 1 and 2, nor how many died for this advancement) on some cars, which is fully autonomous. Yet will only be legal to use on ‘fine days’ (no grey areas there then) and up to 40mph only (so of no use whatsoever to me) and on some freeways, only in California and Nevada. Think how popular you’ll be sitting smugly in your autonomous vehicle, showing other drivers the ‘look, no hands’ thing, driving 15mph below the speed limit and then stopping dead when you hit the Arizona state line cos the car’s not allowed there.

I love progress.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

So on Monday night, the start of Passover, when all good Jews were celebrating our redemption from slavery back in Egypt (reparation demands to follow), our duly elected members of parliament, and our duly appointed Lordy types next door, were embroiled in a game of ‘ping pong’. Not sure that God approves whilst he’s waiting to hear Joey ask ‘the four questions’ but this is what they call the ‘endgame’ of a highly contentious law that needs to be passed but keeps stumbling at the last. So they send it back and forth between the houses of parliament and the Lords to iron out the minor discrepancies and last minute changes and amendments needed to keep everyone happy. Or at least, less miserable. And on Monday night it was about… Rwanda!!! Again. And finally. As its now been passed. Amen. From now on, they’re going to stop those dinghies 5 miles from Dover and tow them all the way to East Africa.

Were that to happen, the boats will still come. And come. And come. As it happens, it probably won’t happen like that. The refugees will spill out onto our beaches, like before, gasping for breath, not because they’ve been in the water but because they’ve been on a boat made for 20 people and there’s 97 of them.

They’ll then get frog-marched, under armed guard, to the Premiere Inn. Its the only way anyone is ever prepared to go to a Premiere Inn. Where the migrants can be heard screaming to be taken back to war-torn Syria, to be returned to Albanian torture-chambers, ANYTHING but the Premiere Inn. And from there they’ll be shipped ‘straight to Rwanda’. Once each has appointed 3 different lawyers to fight for each and every one of them, all the way to the European Court of Human Rights, to avoid deportation. A process taking no longer than 46 months, no shorter than 45.

THEN they’ll go to Rwanda. Which, apparently, is a really beautiful country. Its politically stable, economically viable (even without the endless millions that Rishi has thrown at it) and just a great place. As told to me by someone who has been many times. Mainly because he’s a political journalist and has been covering this story for years and years. Its so nice that they might threaten badly behaving migrants with being sent back to Britain.

The problem is not the people who arrive here in those terrible boats. They are, for one reason or another, truly the world’s desperate. The problem is those who put them on the boats. Yet we can’t take ‘everybody’. We simply don’t have the room nor the resources. I’m glad I don’t have to decide who stays.

Happy Passover

A xxxx

My alternative heading for this post was ‘why did the Jew cross the road?’, but I opted for the one which took up less space. Pragmatist.

The Jew in question was Gideon Falter, who, by sheer coincidence, in case you think he was just trying to make a point, happens to be the head of the Campaign Against Antisemitism. And Gideon had been saying his weekly prayers in synagogue and afterwards walked home. With his kippa on his head and his little velvet ‘Tallis bag’ which holds your prayer shawl (Tallis) and book. Maybe car keys, if you’re naughty, or your phone, if you want to go straight to Hell. This bag will be embroidered with hebrew words, possibly a nice Star of David. And his path ‘home’ was to take him through a Pro-Palestine march. And was stopped by a policeman who luckily has a naturally ‘fuzzed-out’ face, so we can’t see him. The copper told him to go another way as ‘he looked openly Jewish’.

So? It’s a crime to look Jewish??? Oyyyyyy…

The policeman was, obviously, acting rather sensibly, if not exactly speaking so. Walking through a Pro-Pally march as a Jew could possibly inflame people. Could be dangerous for Gideon, even. But Gideon refused to reconsider. Obviously, the head of the CAA was making a point. A very valid point. After our esteemed mayor of London, may Allah praise his name, has repeatedly said that ‘there are no no-go areas in London’, ‘it remains perfectly safe for the Jewish community’. And he said that specifically because of complaints that during the regular saturday Gaza marches, Jews felt unsafe in the areas of those marches.

But why should they? Why should Gideon be called a ‘NAZI!!!’ and other abuse? Why is an Englishman, who happens to be a Jew, accused of alleged bad things happening in another country, by another nation, a thousand miles away? Would these people abuse a Yemeni over here for the deaths of a hundred thousand over there? Would a Syrian get shouted at because of the atrocities over there? And yet the Jew is fair game. Which is why PC Fuzzy-Face eventually forcibly prevented Gideon from crossing the road. So he couldn’t ‘go there’. So if there are areas where Jews can’t go, aren’t they ‘no-go’ areas? By any definition?

And to make matters worse, Nottingham Forest had four penalty appeals turned down by VAR on Sunday. Four. Ok, players appeal as readily as they drop to the ground clutching their faces, but all four were legitimate appeals, if not slam-dunk penalties. The VAR in question was apparently a Luton Town supporter. Hence his own team are embroiled in a relegation battle with Nottingham Forest, thus he has a deep personal interest in Forest losing. Any fight against VAR is my fight. Je suis Luis Espirito Santo.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

(This car is a Porsche 356A from 1959, the forerunner to the 911. But much, much, much prettier. So pretty I want one more than I want Manchester City to get a total ban from football for 5 years for financial indiscretions)

What’s more important than cars??? Oh, of course, football. More important than anything. But it is definitely worth mentioning this car which, unlike yesterday’s, is a ‘proper’ motor. With window-winders and a gear lever and, most importantly, chrome. I love chrome. And it has never been deployed more beautifully than on a 1961 Mercedes 300SL. And again, compared to the Koenigsegg, this one is ‘only’ a million quid!!! And it looks it.

The football was a disaster. FA Cup semi-final decided by the middle toe-nail of a man from Coventry. That’s by how much he was judged to have been ‘offside’ by a VAR team with absolutely no sense of occasion, no clue about ‘doing the right thing’, too pedantic to appreciate ‘the romance of the Cup’.

Manchester United strolled into a dominant, dare-I-say ‘arrogant!!!’ 3 nil lead against lower league Coventry. As a team of their stature (for those with good memories) should. ‘Brushing them aside’. Already gearing up for the final against Man City. But then they remembered they are in fact a Ten Haag team and conceded 2 quick goals to enter ‘squeaky bum time’. Near the end of which, the now inevitable happened and Coventry, much to their credit, scored the equaliser. The crowd went mad. Certain people (no names) in their own homes went mad. There was mayhem. And then extra time began. And had almost finished, injury time at the end of extra time, and Coventry scored the winner. Everyone went wild. I was running round my lounge trying to think good things about Coventry. Then anything about Coventry. I got as far as Lady Godiva and that was it. Because…

VAR had overruled the goal. All that celebration, all that ‘giant-killing’ all that ‘serves Man United fucking right!!!’ was all for nought. An announcement was made: “yeah, sorry to all you Coventry fans and others who just like to see the mighty fall, I know you got a bit exited about scoring the most important goal of your team’s entire history, you’ve lost your voice from screaming, shed tears of joy and wonder and are already online trying to book tickets for the final, but us tossers, sitting in front of a screen 70 miles away have decided to make all that unhappen. Because we can. Never mind”.

I hate VAR. I hate VAR. I hate VAR.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

I went to a car show yesterday. I love cars. Always have. Ever since I was old enough to pick up a ‘Matchbox’ Chevrolet Impala and hit my brother on the head with it. Repeatedly. So when we received an ‘offer’ from the bank ‘inviting’ us to, not just some random car show in, like Tottenham or Neasden, but in… Chelsea!!!, I had to sit up and… act posh. The show was organised by ‘Salon Privee’, possibly the most pretentious name you can find, even in Chelsea, which is quite famous for all forms of pretension. As I had no idea what was involved; I just saw ‘free tickets’ and booked it, I looked it up. Pics of posh people in suits, glossy hair, whitened smiles, sipping pink champagne out of crystal glasses. Looking posh. I immediately went and put on a less ripped pair of Levis. That’s posh, innit? I needed to look… like a ponced up Chelsea tart in the market for a car.

The venue was the Royal Chelsea Hospital. I had visions of entering a ward to see some (posh) geezer telling a nurse “move that fucking life support unit; it might scratch the Maserati!!!” But in fact the Royal Chelsea Hospital is not a real hospital, but where they keep the Chelsea Pensioners. We saw a few but you’re not allowed to shoot them any more. Not since 1945. And the grounds are not just incredibly beautiful, but beautiful in a really posh way. And that’s where they loaded the cars.

And such cars as to be quite unbelievable. Everything for sale, obviously. And the Koenigsegg pictured here will only cost you £3mil. And it can do 330mph. That’s just 10 grand for each mile per hour!!! I asked if I could give them 20 grand and just drive it really slowly. And its good in the snow, with that scoop on the front.

They had every obscene hypercar on the market. Even though most, amazingly, have waiting lists and you can’t even get on that list without being richer than… richer than Rishi.

But they also had some ‘real’ cars there. Old ones. 1958 Bentleys (only ONE million for that), and some truly amazing old metal in perfect showroom condition which, to be honest, I’d take rather than the Paganis and Ferraris. I’ll show you some of them over the next few days just because…

We needed the toilet. So walked up to the ‘Sloane Pavillion’. A fancy tent filled with tables and posh people drinking, eating and, surely they have a toilet facility in there, even if only a really posh one. Posh people pee, don’t they? But we were met by a black-suited, ear-pieced FBI impersonator whose job was to tell the truly posh from the wannabes like me, and he pointed us to some less posh kharsis round the corner. Because you get a lot for the 50 quid you should have paid to enter, but not being able to piss with the ponces.

But what a great day. Free tube travel for old people, free entry to the show and, because I managed to not buy the 1971 AC Cobra for 400k, albeit reluctantly, it didn’t cost a penny.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

When I was about 14 I went to Petticoat Lane market and bought a ‘ban the bomb’ necklace thing. Not a ‘necklace’ in any delicate, subtle, pretty kind of way, this was a fucking great cross, about 3 inches long, with the upper strut being a loop. Which changed it from ‘I love Jesus’ to ‘ban the bomb’. I wasn’t allowed to love Jesus because my Polish-born grandmother would have had a fit. And even at 14 years old I’d had personal ‘crisis’ moments involving thoughts of ‘virgin births’ and reincarnation. Grandma, who lived with us and was probably about 67 but seemed about 99, only had a minor fit about the necklace. Even though all the rock stars on telly had them and they looked really cool. It was just too cross-like for her to appreciate the deeply pacifist, non-religious meaning. I’m not sure which bomb I was banning but this was 1970 so mid Cold War, post-Cuban missile crisis, and all talk was nukes. Ok, let’s ban that bomb then. We were quasi-hippy wannabes so pacifism came with the long hair and loon pants, and if you didn’t like it I’ll fucking kick you in the bollocks!! Give peace a chance!!, we all cried.

At that time the world seemed like everyone had their finger on a red button marked ‘NUCLEAR BOMB!!!’ and it was just a matter of time before it all kicked off.

Fast forward to 2024 and the world is much calmer. Well, it was until Russia invaded Ukraine, Hamas attacked Israel and Bayern Munich beat Arsenal. We’d got used to the war in Yemen, become inured to atrocities in Sudan, accepted Syrian slaughter as just ‘part of life’.

And now I find myself looking back at the ban-the-bomber back then and thinking, “you tosser!!!” Because now I’m only concerned that ‘I’ have bigger bombs than the geezer next door. That I have defence systems he could only dream of, missiles capable of destruction so beautiful and accurate and complete that it almost becomes art. Mushroom clouds are the new Renaissance.

Possibly the difference in attitude could be attributed to zeitgeist. In 1970 we were still in post-war… something. Now we appear to be in pre-war… something else. Or it could be attributed to the fact that although I was probably a really arrogant little shit, I actually really ‘knew’, about two thirds of fuck all. And naivety can get you a long way, particularly when propelled by the fallout from the bomb you didn’t believe would ever happen. Or maybe, just maybe, its because I’ve finally realised that to deal with Iran you need to be strong.

So that’s why I’ve become a ‘hawk’. (Who knew?) And Israel attacking Iran this morning is great news.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

This government is intent on taking away our freedoms. We might as well be living in China during the ‘cultural revolution’, or in Russia under Stalin. Maybe Putin. And I’m not just talking about the freedom to drive dangerously fast whilst sipping cocktails either.

First they’re going to stop children from smoking. Why would they do that? Smoking might relax them, stop them being so horribly agitated and agitating all the time. I bought Joey a pack of Marlboro for his 3rd birthday and he hasn’t complained.

But now they want to stop us hitting our children. Or, in our case, grandchildren, as our kids are big enough to hit back, so should be avoided. Why would the government wish to take away one of life’s pleasures? Which is free!!! In Scotland (and Ireland) smacking kids has been illegal for ages. Which is why the smart money is selling sticks in Newcastle. So all the Scots bring their kids across the border, buy a stick and beat the shit out of them before going back home. It’s all going to end though as the new legislation will ban the beating of all children. Even English ones. A sad day.

Yet worse is yet to come. This time from the ‘gift that keeps on giving’, Angela Rayner. The tax-avoiding, election-frauding, holier-than-thou-except-for-the-ongoing-police-investigation, deputy leader of the Opposition, soon to be… Government!

The gobby northerner (no mention of gender, it might offend someone) wants to stop working pensioners from being exempt from paying National Insurance. Currently, pensioners (like MEEEE!!! FFS) stopped paying NI when we reached pension age. Because on that very day I woke up sitting in an armchair, covered by a rug, stooped over with arthritis, barely able to walk due to bad hips and dodgy knees, I was dribbling down my (very old, grey) cardigan and I’d wet myself. Amazing what a difference a day makes. Yet I was buoyed to struggle up and onto my Zimmer frame by the thought that I’d no longer be paying NI. Instead, as a pensioner, I’d become a ‘net taker’ from that system. And, viewing this from a socio-economic viewpoint; anything that gives me money and takes less away IS GOOD FOR THE NATION!!!

Yet that rancid person is intent on sucking the very blood from my veins and condemning me to poverty.

Happy Thursday, Lila & Joey day, better get a lot of slapping in today, it may be our last opportunity!!

A xxxx