Andy's Glasses

That’s Spurs club motto: to dare is to do. Hence the ‘Dare Skywalk’ they offer to stadium tourists. At least half of whom look so much like Son its uncanny. And as they all wear replica shirts, I spent half the day wondering how our new club captain could be walking round the Tottenham Stadium at the precise moment he was on the pitch at Brentford.

If you’d asked me, before 1.47 pm yesterday, if I had any issue with heights, I’d have laughed in your face, pushed my chest out and taken another swig on my can of lager. I always remember when people said “oh, I can’t go skiing, I’m afraid of heights” to which I’d reply that you may be 3 kilometres above sea level but… most of the time… your skis are on the ground; there is no ‘height’. Ok, some of the rest of the time you’re dangling 100 metres above certain death by virtue of a tiny, thin steel wire holding up a great big metal seat with two people on it and you’re thinking about the whole ‘physics’ thing.

And then you go on the Dare Skywalk. And its an attraction for sightseers and admirers of the stadium. So all the ‘dare’ bit is just marketing bollocks to make a totally innocent and easy walk along the roof a bit more ‘sexy’, so they can charge more for it. But then you have to change your shoes!!! I don’t think its just a sales play but you can only walk on the roof of the stadium in Nike footwear. But its ‘special’, black trainers, with super sticky, climb-up-walls, Spiderman type footwear. Then you get the harness, the clamps, all manner of paraphernalia, and they remove all hard objects from you, like phones, coins, daggers, guns and step-ladders, in case they should fall and kill someone underneath.

Then you walk up. And up. And up. And they hook you onto a handrail and you go up more. Then more. Until… you’re walking on the glass roof bit. Wow! Awwww, look’a dat viewwww!!!! Lundun!!! Innit!!! All good. They even give you your phones back for 5 minutes to appreciate it properly with a selfie. To validate it. Then they hook another clamp on you, basically, chaining you to the rail, and you walk round the cockerel. On a little ledge (seems little) 43 metres above the pitch so you can look down at the grass and… and…

And feel almost violently ill with the fear of falling, jumping, plummeting or… Its actually not a conscious thing. Its visceral and it just happens. Well, it did to me. I stood there, both arms wrapped around the cockerel, crying for my mummy, staring anywhere but down at the pitch, wanting to be… anywhere. Even sitting on a seat in the Emirates would have felt good at that point, that’s how bad it was.

But I survived. Phew. Cos I’m a MAN! Even though I probably didn’t look or feel quite so ‘manly’ up there with the cockerel.

And now it seems funny.

Happy daring Monday

A xxxx

He’s gone.
Harry.
Harry Kane.
Played for Spurs.
Captained Spurs.
Captains England!!!
Yet moved to Germany on Friday. F’rever. To play for Bayern Munich. Arrived there Friday afternoon, by Saturday afternoon he was playing for Munchen and losing to Leipzig in some Teutonic version of the ‘charity shield’ they have over there. And today makes it 2 days and he STILL hasn’t won a winners’ medal! I thought they’d just give him half a dozen for merely walking out of White Hart Lane. But no, apparently even Harry is going to have to earn them. And good luck to him.

But what does it say about our club? Our ‘big club’ in whom top stars have such confidence that they have to leave before they might win something? That we can advance so far and then… just fall back down again. It has tragically become part of our culture. But maybe, just maybe, it might all just change!!! New manager, new players, new striker being courted… and a new season.

So how did we do without Harry? Honestly? I have no idea. I was ‘busy’. And missed the match on tv. Because I’d booked, without checking the fixtures, obviously, to visit the ‘Spurs Experience’ tour, at the ground. And the ‘Dare Skywalk’!

The Spurs Experience is amazing. They take you up, giving you wonderful things on the way, money, cars, houses, holidays, fur coats, unlimited tattoos, great food, wild women, Lego… and then, just when you’re reaching the top and about to have a one-to-one with God him/her-self!!!… they drop you 30 feet back to the floor to bump your head, sprain your ankle and they steal your phone.

But in fact it was NOT the metaphorical experience which all fans live every year, it was the real thing! With changing rooms and access to normally inaccessible parts of the ground and the NFL bits and all the ‘secrets’ which only the 362,228 people who’ve taken the tour know. Though it was also a bit ‘unreal’ because its not a match day so you park outside the ground!!!

Then we went for a walk on the roof of the stadium. Its only 43 metres above the ground, so no idea why they clamp you with harnesses and all manner of climbing shit. Not like you’re going to jump off is it? Its too early in the season for that.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

I’ve always wanted to be that person who says: ‘when you get to my age…’ because I’ve always found that really annoying, stupid and pathetic, all characteristics I strive for in my life. So now I’ve reached sufficient yearage that I could invoke such a phrase in earnest, I can’t do it. Its like admitting you’re the wrong side of ‘young’, that you’er much nearer to death than birth, it implies you might have learned something, which means they’ll prove you wrong.

Because that’s what happens. You get old thinking you’re absorbing all this wonderful knowledge and learning the secrets of longevity, and then you read the paper and the goalposts have shifted again, so if you don’t wise up, you’ll be dead within a week!

I’d always thought that 10,000 steps a day was a good goal. A realistic aim. A worthy and accessible target. For health, fitness, longevity, blah, blah, blah. So at the end of every walk, I look at my watch, like all us fitness mavens do, and see that in fact its ten past three. Or quarter to nine. Because my watch doesn’t count steps. So I look at my phone and see that I have 14 messages from Amazon about a parcel I never ordered. Again, I’ve never installed a step-counter on my phone either. Because I just don’t fucking care. I walk, generally, until I stop. Worried that if I reach my ten thousandth step whilst crossing a road, I’d have to stop there for the rest of the day, and it could be dangerous.

But now I’m fine. It has been decided, I’m sure really, really scientifically, that you only need ‘2337 steps a day’ to live forever. Any more is just wasted. Or sets you back. Affects you badly.

And the good thing about this latest info-flash is that it completely highlights the fact that ALL this information is total bollocks and should be completely ignored. Here’s another newsflash: walking is nice, its fairly healthy in that (unless you take a few mars bars with you) its generally time spent not eating. Or drinking (never leave home without a fully charged hip flask). But its not ‘exercise’ in any meaningful way. Its just much better than sitting down. If you want exercise, play tennis. Apparently there are other things you can do but quite frankly they just don’t count. Like steps. I tried counting them ‘analogue’. But by the end of the road I’d forgotten if I was up to 174 or 274, so I had to go back home and start again.

Happy walking

A xxxx

We’ve found a new drug. Not, like, for Saturday nights with a line of coke and three shots of Jägermeister, but a medical drug. Oh, one’a’them. Well, not so much ‘found’ it, as slightly ‘re-purposed’ it. Possibly, just adjusted the claims made about it. Its a diabetes drug. And causes weight loss. But now, in higher doses, it can ‘massively reduce heart attacks AND strokes!!!’ Wow! That’s good, they’re big killers. As in: ‘they kill big people’, as well as ‘killing lots of people’. But the query (in my overly cynical and statistic-a-phobic mind) is whether this drug is ‘curing’ the risk of those two killer illnesses, or whether it just reduces the person’s weight to the extent where the risk of heart attack and stroke are severely reduced as they are for most thin people? Though really, either way, its a win. We end up with a nation of thinner people, having less heart attacks and strokes; a win-win.

Unless you’re paying the bill.

The drug in its diabetes/weight loss concentration costs £74 per month for each patient. Probably be a bit more for the higher dosage. And they reckon its only 12 million people who’ll really benefit by this. Which… add on a lot of zeroes… multiply by 13… divide by the square root of your waste measurement, comes to just shy of a billion quid. Every month. So that’s just, say 10 billion pounds a year so the NHS won’t have to treat heart attack and stroke victims who are overweight, thus keeping the beds free for the healthy old people who can’t leave hospital because there’s nowhere in the care system to put them.

What we need to do is get some more barges. Big ones. With rooms bigger than that one in Dorset has, cos these people are much bigger than refugees, and fill them with overweight people and starve them. No booze. No fat, sugars or carbs and no way off. That way, instead of 10 bil a year, its the initial outlay on a few barges and enough lettuce and broccoli for 12 million people. Simple.

It all comes down to money. If the NHS had Nigel Farage’s promsied “365 million pounds EVERY DAY!!!!”, for Brexit, we might be nicer. But even though I actually imagined the head of EU finance personally writing us a cheque every single day, it, kind’a, never happened. So there’s a shortfall. And as everyone in England is violently opposed to making any kind of contribution, however ‘nominal’ towards healthcare, I suppose we’ll just have add this 10 billion to the total. And just keep doing that until Kier Starmer dies or the cost of the NHS is actually greater than our GDP. I suppose we can always borrow.

Happy, healthy Wednesday

A xxxx

I wish to discuss Donald Trump. I hope you haven’t just eaten because I’m fully aware of the effect even thinking about that man can have on a full stomach. Though really, this isn’t about the most vile politician in America, this is more about Americans. And the eternal question: WHY ARE THEY SO UNBELIEVABLY FUCKING STUPID????

With every indictment the combed-over heap of lard gets, his ratings go up in the polls. And ok, this is the ‘Republican only’ polls because its for the right to stand as their candidate. And I appreciate that Republicans are traditionally at the conservative, gun-lovin’, anti-abortion, pro-slavery, super-Christian and hence fairly dim end of the political spectrum, but really? The man gets accused of corruption and its ‘politicisation!!’ Yeah, maybe so, but he’s still corrupt. He gets caught with ‘documents’ in his home which he shouldn’t have. But not, like, three sheets of A4 in a little blue folder, we’re talking hundreds and hundreds of highly sensitive, top secret files, just sitting in his bathroom and bedroom, piled high. What for? Is the first question I’d ask. Why would he even want them? Especially as he knows its against the law. Even for the (then) president. Then comes the whole ‘the election was rigged!!!!’ protest, when he refused to give up the White House. Like a spoilt child who won’t leave the top of the castle after a defeat in a game of soldiers. Yet this is the biggest of all Trump’s current problems because he accused the American election system of cheating/lying/incompetence. He still has the problem about starting the Capitol riot, or at least, failing to stop the Capitol riot, but it doesn’t matter.

Over 25% of Americans would still vote for him if he was in jail. The year is 2023, we’re post-Harvey Weinstein, post #metoo and yet half of all republicans would select someone who condones and even proposes sexual assault. And I’d love to think that those 50 of Americans must therefore be the men, but its just not true.

I also get that voting for a political party is the definition of ‘partisan’, but some things are surely more important than long-term loyalty to a vague, political system. And all these ‘Christians’, invoking ‘the will of the Lord’ at every opportunity can sit comfortably with a man who advocates “just grab ’em by the pussy” as a method of introduction. These poor souls are ok to believe that the Democrats are using these events to try to dethrone America’s King of the Right. Because the events are all real and true. The Democrats are supposed to illustrate what a vile piece of shit Mr Ex-Prez is. But some people are just beyond learning. And we call those people: Americans.

God Help America.

A xxxx

I’ve decided to advance my life skills up to new heights and approach technology as mind-blowingly contemporary as 1996!!! I added face recognition to my phone. Thinking it would make my life easier. So I followed the series of complex instructions (“look at your phone, with your face”) and it gave me a tick. Green one. The best of all possible ticks. So I shut down the phone, opened it up again and ‘face doesn’t match’ was the message. “Use pin or fingerprint”. Because whilst I was there being a techno-wizz, I spent twenty minutes running my thumb across the sensor at various angles. And, amazingly, that works. But I want the face thing. So I added another picture. Not another face, I don’t have a second. Despite what you might hear to the contrary, with me bein’ a Gemini an’all…

‘Face doesn’t match’. I know I’m getting older by the day, but how much can a face change over the course of 1 minute? Perhaps my expression was different. As I looked at my face being scanned it had a look of ‘abject boredom’ whilst when opening the phone it would have been one of ‘excited anticipation’. These algorithms aren’t as sensitive as we imagine.

Unless my face is not my face, but someone else’s!!! Hadn’t thought of that, had you?

Anyway, I’m not sure I can change that face in any significant way just so my fucking phone recognises it. Though, touch of Botox…

The good news is: I played tennis this morning for the first time in 5 weeks!!! My hip is absolutely no better than it was 5 weeks ago, though, oddly, no worse either. And I played ‘cautiously’, and I’m not just saying that in case Mel reads this, but I was unconsciously protecting the hip. Which consequently, didn’t hurt at all! And as I couldn’t get an appointment with the hip dude until a week on Thursday, there’s no-one around to tell me not to play again. And as it’s not really that much worse for having played (just a minor hobble at times), that’s definitely God’s way of telling me to carry on. The world of tennis simply shouldn’t be denied this wonderful exponent of the game.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

We went to Legoland on Thursday. I’ve wanted to go there for ages. Mel too. Even though neither of us is particularly fat, nor have any significant ink-work. Unfortunately it was the day we had the kids so we had to take them with, which was a shame because these places aren’t really for children. Too much walking. Too much queuing. Both of which we love but kids get a bit impatient with. Well, tough shit kids!! Because Legoland does make concession to children, but generally only either chronically obese children, or those who’d like to become chronically obese.

And I worked out that if it wasn’t for the queuing for the rides, you could actually spend more time eating high-fat, sugar-saturated, carb-laden calories to a far greater extent. Its almost like the rides spoil the fun.

“I’ve just wasted 28 minutes queuing for the Flight of the Dragon-Lion ride, (an absolutely brilliant 2.5 minutes), when I should have been at the hot donut stand”. Its like the opposite of ‘wasted calories’!!! Why don’t they put food concessions along the queue lines? They’ve missed a trick there. But when we came out we headed straight to lunch. It was only 10.30 but there’s no such thing as a free lunch, certainly not in Legoland, but there are multiple lunches, every time you walk past some food.

What shall we have? Burgers look good. Chips, obviously. Hot dogs? Fish’n’chips!!! Or, best of all, the ‘all you can eat pasta and pizza buffet’! Holy shit: THE FUCKING DREAM!!!!!

So its now 10.45 and I’ve scarfed down a 14 inch double pepperoni, quadruple cheese, mega-pizza, washed down with coke. But here’s the problem: that pizza would cost me… a tenner, maybe 12 quid. And entrance to the buffet is £18. So therefore, even though I’m full, I need to get another 6 quids worth in me before I leave. Maybe just a quick ‘spag-bol’ then.

The ice creams are massive. They don’t do ‘small’. Cos then they couldn’t charge you £4.75 a go, could they? And as the idea of ‘sharing’ an ice cream is simply beyond the comprehension of anyone younger than 75, you enter the situation where either half the ice cream gets wasted or you’re child is ingesting 300 grams more fat wot he/she really don’t need.

The I found a slightly hidden food stall with apples all over it!! Apples? Who fucking wants an apple when you have a corn dog and candy floss? But I was amazed, and walked round to find it actually sold ‘fried apple chips’.

I don’t hate the Lego company. I love them. I love their product, I love everything they make and do. But then they give the running of their theme park over to Merlin. Who run all of them. And their brief is not one of helping children to advance, they’re not a school. It has no dietary considerations, nor health in general other than that which is legislated. They have one aim: to increase profits. By selling things which everyone loves but really shouldn’t be eating to the excesses they supply them. With absolutely NO alternative options available. Because no kid has ever seen a photo of a lettuce leaf and nagged his parents to get one.

However, it must be said, if you absolutely love standing in really long queues, and would really like to become morbidly obese: Legoland should be your first stop.

Happy wet Saturday

A xxxx

I don’t know how successful sales of Barbie have been since they invented them, but I’m guessing BIG. And at some point, a massive decision was made. About Barbie’s feet. The designers and marketing people at Mattel had 85 hours of meetings and decided… that Barbie’s feet should forever and always be at 45 degrees to her leg. Ok, she’ll never be capable of standing, walking, running, playing sports or paddling in the sea. Unless she puts on her shoes. Which have such high heels as to create a level playing field and give her balance. (Note: Barbie identifies as a woman, hence the pronouns, even though she lacks a womb. And other bits and pieces normally associated…)

The Barbie movie is clever. Brilliantly clever. And brilliantly funny. It should be stupid, and it succeeds. But in a clever and funny way, so we’re amused, entertained and… given food for thought? Well, the whole movie is a recycled feminist treatise against the patriarchy. But here’s the clever bit. It comes about because the tables are turned.

‘Barbieworld’ as they call it, is a wonderfully happy, smiley, plasticky, ever-sunny place where everyone is beautiful and everyone is called Barbie. Of course they’re not all blonde, Mattel has covered every ethnicity imaginable over the years. There’s Ukrainian Refugee Barbie, Butch Barbie, Boat-person Barbie, Rape Victim Barbie and Woke Barbie. But there’s no men. Except… Ken.

And he has no penis. So living in a world with 7,850 total perfect babes is not as cool as one might imagine. But Ken’s not about sex. He’s about being noticed. Being included. Little girls play with their Barbies, but only sometimes will Ken be involved. He totally lacks ‘validation’ which he can only get from Barbie. One of them. Thus he has no control of his life or even actions, living only to serve Barbie. So think 50s, 60s Real World and you see the sociological and philosophical implications at work. Oooooh, that’s deep. For fucking Barbie!!!! How awful for men to be totally dependent on, subservient to and at the beck and call of, women!!!

When ‘the boys take over’, Barbieworld goes (plastic)-tits-up and its chaos. But no spoilers.

And there’s Margot Robbie. All dressed up in 57 different totally Barbi-licious ways. All pink. There’s some other cast members too but, quite frankly, who cares?

Happy Barbie-Tuesday

A xxxx

I’m so green these days. I have an electric car, which helps flowers grow and I even have an electric bike. Which must be better than pedalling because if I’m exerting less then I’m breathing out less carbon monoxide than if I was on a push bike and hence I’m melting less of the polar ice caps.

Because we’ve all become just a little obsessed about ‘green’ issues, the environment, global warming (only in Ischia and Greece, not over here, that’s for sure) and carbon emissions, particularly where ULEZ is concerned. Basically, we remain really really concerned about OTHER PEOPLE’S selfish carbon emissions. Whilst we make token gestures, as long as they don’t cost any money. Because once they start talking about Heat Pumps (15 grand) or solar panels (more) then it starts to remain someone else’s problem.

And this is on a personal level, but represents precisely the global and even national, political attitude too.

We do our bit: WHAT ABOUT INDIA? CHINA??? AM-ERRR-ICCAAA????

But in politics it makes it tricky. Because green is a vote-winning colour. And yet, there’s thousands of jobs at stake in oil and gas industries plus, obviously, lots of money to be made from drilling them out of the North Sea. And jobs are BIG vote-winners and yet these jobs upset the environmentally concerned.

Rishi Sunak has pledged an end to petrol/diesel cars by 2030 and over 50% of his party are opposed to this, seemingly quite conservative and straightforward measure towards our ‘net zero’ target, which will, I think it safe to say, will never happen other than ‘on technicalities’. Like the one he’s proposed whilst issuing 100 new licenses for oil and gas drilling off the Scottish coast. Because of ‘carbon storage’. Oh, brilliant. Which is almost like making excessive carbon emissions disappear but… but… but actually they’re buried a little further down the Scottish coast under the sea.

Rishi maintains, probably correctly, that, until alternatives are in place, people will probably appreciate the oil and gas because without it its going to be very very cold and dark in the house. Whereas whinger in chief, Kier Starmer, is one hundred and sixteen percent (Diane Abbott did the sums) behind greener everything and is prepared to throw himself in front of any proposed drilling rigs to prevent any further environmental abuses by this nation. I’m prepared to help and hold him still til the thing hits him. Because he’s gung ho for the green vote, even though he lost a by-election because of it.

And it does seem to be a political spectrum thing. Lefties love green and all want their grandchildren to hug trees. Centrists (like Rishi) are pragmatic, a little cynically disposed towards green noises, but realise its a slow move towards environmental perfection. Whereas when you get further to the right, they don’t care, aren’t concerned about the carbon and at the extreme end, simply don’t believe any of it. The Donald Trump end.

So I need YOU to do something about it, right now. Please! For the sake of MY planet!!!

Happy Monday

A xxxx

I’m going to see Barbie. Not the doll, the movie. I actually have loads of Barbie dolls, or rather ‘we’ do. Collectively. My daughters’ collection dusted off for Lila and then we ordered online about 75 assorted dresses/shoes/bags/shit from China for £3.95 (p/p included). So we’re stocked. And as such, I feel I have every right to go see the film. I’ve dressed and undressed and re-dressed and beheaded Barbies on and off for 30 years, I’m qualified. Paid my dues. And although its a girlie film, I can get in touch with my inner ‘lusting after Margot Robbie and in no way objectifying her fabulous body’ and my other feminist leanings and just enjoy being one’o’the’gels for the night. So, Monday night, me and Barbie have a date. I wish I had more pink clothes to wear. Do you think Margot might notice if I did????

I also want to see Oppenheimer, the tale of poor Robert who invented the Atom bomb then died. Not from radioactivity but suicide. Its also supposed to be a great movie, but at over 3 hours long…

Firstly Mel has to stay awake that long, itself not an easy thing. Then I have to cope with the aftermath. Because every film we see, however wonderful, however spectacular, however well reviewed, and however short, is summed up thus by my wife: ‘it should have been half an hour shorter’. Possibly 20 minutes (really good film), sometimes 48 minutes (average to poor offering).

The rather odd thing is that ‘pre-covid’, we were at least 3 times a month movie-goers. Then post-plague, its like once every 2 years. Yet I read the reviews and they just don’t seem to excite me. Maybe Covid, as well as removing taste and smell, also worked on film appreciation? Or maybe the movies coming out have all been shit. And then, like the proverbial number 23 buses, you wait 3 years and then 2 come along together. Phah!

The other amazing news is that, having been totally won over by an electric car, I now have an electric bike too. Every home should have one. And this one did indeed sit in my mate’s home for about 3 years on a completely ornamental basis. Never ridden. Other than when I borrowed it for tube strikes. So last weekend, after fraught negotiation, I acquired the bike, so it can sit in my house between tube strikes. Though I do ride it on other occasions, just because it is simply the most fun you can have whilst killing pedestrians. Riding round the pavements (some roads are just too dangerous to consider) at 20mph in a bike that weighs the same as a Boeing 727 is very safe. For the rider. Its everyone else that should worry.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx