When I first heard about the coup in Serie-A, I thought it a bit unusual for a football league, even an Italian one, to be taken over by armed militia, but was thrilled by the prospect that the Premiere League might suffer a similar fate and then stop showing matches on (fucking) TNT. Then I realised that it was Syria, not Serie-A, even though they’re pronounced the same way, and that was a bit upsetting, though it made more sense. And Assad did a runner. Although claims he left ‘reluctantly’ and ‘after finishing off his work’. Which might mean just murdering a quick few hundred people, as that seems to be what his ‘work’ involved. And so there’s nothing cowardly about him at all. Even though his life expectancy in the New Syria would have been measured in minutes. Very painful ones.

So now ‘we’ (ie Britain) are in the strange position of entering into talks with the new boys. And as they are proscribed terrorists, it does make David Lammy appear even more ridiculous than he normally appears. No mean feat. And now we have to wait and see how the ‘promises of inclusivity to all in Syria’ may extend to Muslims who aren’t Sunni, as the new governors are, to the Alawites, who represent Assad’s team and hence are not going to win any popularity contests any time soon, and the Christians and Druze. And also, how the other Sunni militias accept the leadership, or vie for some type of control.

Within 10 minutes of Southampton’s loss to Spurs on Sunday, the team at the very bottom of the pile sacked their manager. With Wolves, the next one up, already sacking theirs.

The sheer brutality of Tottenham’s win was so magnificent that, at 5-nil down at half time, there wasn’t really any way back. For team or manager. The Saints did well not to concede seriously humiliating numbers. The win was so emphatic that I actually chose to watch Match of the Day, for the first time since the Man City game. Because I have now become ‘that person’. Ok, I have become quite a lot of different versions of ‘that person’, but this is the football one. Who simply can’t bear to watch his team lose. Again. And again. Though in fact, that I can bear. What I can’t is listening to Alan Fucking Shearer explaining, in a version of English so poor its only heard on football programs, what Tottenham did wrong. Like we can’t see for ourselves. Seeing what went wrong is not the same as preventing it. Its just much, much easier.

This photo is Rich playing at Dingwalls, Camden Town, in about 1971/2. Sent by an old mate who also playing there.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx