Season 2008/2009: Match 22: Nottingham Forest v Bristol City

When I was growing up, Nottingham Forest were one of English football's biggest clubs, although their sorry decline from European Champions to League One in the space of 25 years strangely coincided exactly with my first quarter century on this planet.

Since dropping out of the top flight in Brian Clough's final season back in 1993, Forest have been up and down more often than a porn star's knickers, but they've found it increasingly difficult to make progress towards a Premiership return over the past few seasons. Ahead of today's match they were third bottom of the Championship, a point behind Norwich and three behind Barnsley, who had a game in hand.

After attending Norwich City's clash with Sheffield Wednesday last weekend, I was looking forward to another entertaining match between a team holding out hope of a promotion play-off place and a side desperate to stay in the second tier.

Unfortunately, the weather in Nottingham today wasn't anywhere close to being as good that in Norwich last weekend, with a light drizzle falling as I made my way to the City Ground.

The stadium must be the most picturesque I've ever been to, sitting right beside the bank of the River Trent:

I didn't realise until today how close the City Ground is to Notts County's Meadow Lane ground, which is on the opposite bank, and to the Trent Bridge cricket ground, which is a few hundred metres down the road - and which looks like a giant German castle when seen from the upper tier of the City Ground's Brian Clough Stand.

As I said about Carrow Road last week, the City Ground would one of the three best league grounds in Scotland, and, like Carrow Road, is a far better venue for watching football than Hampden. The City Ground reminded me of Tynecastle, although its capacity of more than 30,000 dwarfs Hearts' stadium. Slightly fewer than 23,000 fans turned out today, including a noisy away section keen to urge the visitors towards the play-offs and Forest towards League One.

There were fewer players with Scottish connections on show today than had been the case in the Norwich match. Forest's goalkeeper Iain Turner, currently on loan from Everton, hails from Stirling. In the past, I've heard him touted as a future Scotland goalkeeper, but on today's form neither Craig Gordon nor David Marshall has anything to worry about.

Former Hearts left back Jamie McAllister lined up for Bristol City for 82 minutes before receiving a red card for for a second bookable offence. Ulster-born winger and former Hibs man Ivan Sproule, who famously scored a hat-trick against boyhood heroes Rangers, also played for Bristol City today, opening the scoring after 13 minutes.

The most famous Scot involved in the match was Billy Davies, appointed Forest manager in January this year and the man charged with saving the club from sliding into League One yet again.

There weren't many household names to be seen on the teamsheets today, Forest looking to Robert Earnshaw and on-loan Dexter Blackstock for goals and having recently added Welsh international full back Chris Gunter on loan from Spurs. City, meanwhile, had Dele Adebola in their starting line-up, the big man giving Forest's defence a hard time throughout.

Forest have been struggling all season, and early on they looked like a team whose confidence has been shot for a long time. They seemed devoid of ideas, scared to make mistakes and afraid to shoot in case they missed the target.

Despite starting so poorly, Forest could and should have gone ahead in the first quarter of an hour when Blackstock headed a cross wide of the target when it looked easier to score.

The let-off proved crucial, and Bristol City found themselves in front after 13 minutes, Sproule on hand to capitalise when Turner spilled the ball in the box.

At that stage, it seemed as though City were the most likely side to add to their tally, with Forest looking like a team of condemned men. But somehow, Forest found a way back into it and Earnshaw, who had already squandered a host of chances, netted from close range.

With the match tied at half time, I would still have considered City the more likely team to win the match. Most of the second half passed without incident, Forest failing to put Bristol City under any real pressure and the visitors struggling to capitalise on their hosts' inefficiencies at the back.

When Dele Adebola scored with 12 minutes remaining, it seemed as though Forest were finished, both in the match and in the Championship.

But that didn't take into account McAllister's idiocy. Having already been booked, the defender committed a foul on the edge of his own box, and was given his marching orders. From the resulting free kick, Joe Garner was able to find an equaliser, scrambling the ball home from inside the box.

The bouncing Bristol City supporters were immediately silenced, and Forest's fans sensed that survival was within their grasp once again.

Incredibly, there was further drama still to come, Dexter Blackstock capitalising on slack defending deep in injury time to volley beyond Adrian Basso.

The stadium erupted and Forest's players rushed to celebrate with the huddle of fans standing on the corner who had returned to the ground through the open exits when the equaliser flew.

Tension gripped the stadium from then on, referee Colin Webster adding several more minutes of stoppage time to test the nerves of everyone associated with the Reds.

The noise that greeted the final whistle was tinged with as much relief as joy, and those three points may prove all important to Forest, who have now moved out of the drop zone at Norwich's expense. With four games to go, there is still a lot at stake for both clubs - and the others involved in the relegation struggle.

I remember that, in Clough's final year in charge of Forest, many people said they were too good to go down. They weren't, and they did, and they've never properly recovered since. This Forest side is definitely not too good to go down, and too many of the players today looked as though they already thought they were relegated. A new goalkeeper is definitely required, with Turner at fault too often today to be considered properly reliable.

Gunter looked decent, but will return to Tottenham at the end of his loan period. The remaining members of the backline - Wes Morgan, Kelvin Wilson and Joel Lynch - looked erratic throughout and I'd imagine that all will be fighting for their places if Billy Davies remains as manager next season.

In truth, it's easier to pick the few players who didn't have a howler for Forest today. Looking objectively at the match, only Gunter, Earnshaw and Blackstock really looked as though they were properly ready for the challenge, although both the strikers squandered several chances that could have proved crucial on any other afternoon.

I hope that Forest survive, and I also hope that Norwich stay up, but it's now looking likely that one or the other will find themselves in League One next season. At the moment, I'd bet on Forest staying up. I'd also be willing to bet on Billy Davies, if given the chance, taking a hatchet to a lot of dead wood at the club if he's allowed to stay on, and kick-starting a push by one of the true sleeping giants of the English game.

(Fascinating fact - Nottingham Forest and Aston Villa are the only sides to have won the European Cup which have never played in the Champions League. And Forest are the only side to have won the European Cup more times than their domestic title.)

Rocking

Mrs Wife and I have just returned from Skegness' Tower Cinema, where we spent the evening watching The Boat That Rocked.

I think it's the first time I've been to the cinema and had the film interrupted by an intermission midway through.

That slight annoyance aside, the movie was very funny and highly entertaining from start to finish.

But even more enjoyable was the soundtrack, a rollicking ride through the best the 1960s had to offer. In fact, it was so good I got goosebumps three times simply because of the music - twice because of music by The Rolling Stones.

Not a bad way to spend the evening, all in all.

Brass Bands Play and Feet Start To Pound

Today marks the beginning of my 30th trip around the sun, so I thought I'd commemorate the occasion with the video from the song that was top of the hit parade 29 years ago today.

Paul Weller has looked pretty cool throughout most ofhis career (we'll turn a blind eye to the Style Council/Band Aid years). It's just a pity that Bruce Foxton insisted on the mullet....

I would embed the video, but YouTube won't let me - so here it is.

Season 2008/2009: Match 21: Norwich City v Sheffield Wednesday

Mrs Wife and I have been dog and house sitting for her auntie and uncle in Skegness since Tuesday, and as part of this two-week break in England, I decided it would be a good opporchancity to take in some football south of the border.

The match that seemed most appealing within traveling distance today was Norwich City v Sheffield Wednesday at Carrow Road, the Canaries taking on the Owls in a match the home side couldn't really afford to lose as they seek to avoid relegation.

It was my first visit to Norwich (both the city and the football club) and I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the stadium - I'd say there are only two better in the Scottish league, and Carrow Road is certainly a far better venue for watching football than the soulless bowl that is Hampden, despite being less than half the size of our national stadium. The stands are tight against the pitch and even in the back rows, you feel as though you're right on top of the action.

There were a few players with Scottish connections playing today - Scotland goalkeeper (and now presumably second choice for the national side following Shagger's midweek antics) David Marshall started for Norwich, as did Alan Gow, the striker currently on loan from Rangers. Another former Rangers striker on show was Sheffield Wednesday's Francis Jeffers, whose Rangers career was so glorious that I'd forgotten it ever happened until I was reading the programme before the start of today's match. Chris Killen, who is on loan at Norwich from Celtic, didn't play today due to injury. Former Dundee and Celtic midfielder Mark Fotheringham hasn't played for Norwich since March, when he was stripped of the club captaincy after storming down the tunnel having been substituted by new Canaries boss Bryan Gunn.

The weather in Norwich today was glorious, and the stadium was filled to capacity for the match, with a vocal Sheffield Wednesday support filling one of the corners of the Jarrold stand. Apparently my seat in the County Lounge section was within spitting distance of the directors box inhabited by Delia Smith, but I didn't catch site of the chef.

And so to the match. Sheffield Wednesday were by far the better team, and easily looked as though they deserved to be more than eight points ahead of an average Norwich side. Jermaine Johnson looked lively throughout for the visitors, his darting runs down the left a constant source of worry for the Norwich back line. Francis Jeffers, meanwhile, continued his career-long impersonation of a tree.

In the Norwich ranks, Lee Croft looked faster than a short Alan Stubbs lookalike ought to have, and he frequently had the pace to beat Tommy Spurr. It was just a pity that none of his teammates thought it a good idea to make their way into the box in the hope of connecting with one of his crosses or passes. Alan Gow actually looked decent, which probably won't come as a surprise to anyone who saw him play for Falkirk but might do to Rangers fans who never saw him don the light blue. All too often he opted to attempt to beat every man instead of shooting, and his decision-making proved costly in the end. His strike partner David Mooney was utter shite, and I was surprised that Gunn kept him on the park for the duration of the match.

The game was a scrappy affair, neither side creating many clear-cut chances. Wednesday looked better throughout and should have won comfortably, but instead had to rely on Jermaine Johnson's goal two minutes after the break to secure all three points. Norwich had an equaliser ruled out five minutes from time for a foul in the build-up that it seemed no-one in the stadium saw except for referee Mike Russell.

Russell had an appalling game from start to finish, turning a blind eye to a series of niggling fouls from the Wednesday players. As well as disallowing the equaliser, he also managed to turn his back on an eight-man brawl in the Wednesday box during the second half, a ruck that had to be split up by the linesman in his absence. Tommy Spurr was sent off with a minute of normal time remaining, having been booked for a nothing foul 10 minutes earlier. A very poor show from the official.

On the basis of today's game, Norwich are in trouble. Nottingham Forest, who I'm going to see on Saturday, scraped a point with fellow strugglers Barnsley, while Charlton got a result at Southampton. Both of those results keep Norwich out of the drop zone for the time being, but they're only a point ahead of Forest, while Southampton can overhaul them by winning their game in hand.

Having said all that, there were a few good signs for Norwich - Gow looks like he's enjoying his football, Marshall is a steady goalkeeper, Jon Otsemobor and Ryan Bertrand were solid in defence, Croft looked decent and Sammy Clingan had a good game in the middle of the park. Gunn also handed a debut to Korey Smith, who has been promoted from the club's academy, and he looked a decent prospect when coming on from the bench.

On a good day, Norwich could easily beat an average SPL side such as Aberdeen (the Dons selected there purely for my own amusement). But it seems as though good days are few and far between for Norwich at the moment, and their season is going to end with a real relegation dog fight (or Canary fight at least).

Ministry of Superfluous Signs

As spotted in a motorway service station somewhere between Glasgow and Skegness on Tuesday.

My Favourite Albums: Number 3: Super Furry Animals - Radiator

The two records that top the list of my favourite albums - The Stone Roses' debut and Nirvana's Nevermind - are amongst those that regularly feature in magazine polls to determine the greatest record of all time.

But the third album on my list rarely features, if at all. I seem to remember it appearing in Q's list of the best albums of the magazine's lifetime, and possibly in the best British albums ever. But it is by no means regarded by the Great British Public as one of the must-have records, a defining piece of art the equal of The Beatles', Pink Floyd's and Bob Dylan's masterpieces.

It should be.

Drawing comparisons between Super Furry Animals' second album - released in 1997 as the follow-up to Fuzzy Logic - and other records is difficult, as it contains so may varied influences that should be almost incompatible.

There are nods to 70s prog rock, with electric pianos, mellotrones and string sections. There are sections of buzzsaw guitar work, referencing punk's finest. There are short bursts of techno beats welded with four-part harmonies and horn sections.

But most of all, there are the songs. I've said before that Gruff Rhys is one of my favourite lyricists, a wayward genius who has never been given the recognition his abilities so richly deserve.

Comparing Radiator to Fuzzy Logic is almost akin to comparing Sgt Pepper with Help! - unquestionably the same band, but elevated to a different plane entirely.

The album is, on first listen, a confusing hotch-potch that sounds as though it will last forever - yet it clocks in at well under an hour (I think it's nearer 45 mins, if that, but don't have it to hand to check at the moment).

And despite sounding at times as though it's a prog epic, it's packed with blisteringly brilliant singles - The International Language of Screaming, Demons, She's Got Spies, Play It Cool and Hermann Loves Pauline.

The topics covered across the songs are as off-the-wall as they are varied - Che Guevara's asthma; Marie Curie; the mythical Puerto Rican goat-eating monster chupacabras; Sierra Leon's Valentine Strasser, who became the world's youngest head of state when he staged a military coup; and Albert Einstein's parents (the titular Hermann and Pauline).

And amongst all the chaos, the Welsh language song Torra Fy Ngwallt Yn Hir, the electronic sub-bass and the screaming over the fade-out to The International Language of Screaming, there are subtle nuances that continue to reveal themselves 12 years after the record was released. There are no real gaps between the songs, though at times the interludes are audible only on headphones or with the volume set high on the stereo. And in these interludes are lost melodies, miniature vignettes added to ensure that Radiator stands head and shoulders above its fellow post-Britpop records.

Words can scarcely do this record justice. The band have never come close to matching it and, in my opinion, only two bands have ever bettered it (and The Beatles aren't one of them).

Videos can't really catpure the essence of the album, but here's an attempt with the video for the majestic Demons.

Survivor

A story so incredible, you would describe it as far-fetched if it took place in a movie.

Maps

Google Maps now has a street finder facility that's more than a little disturbing.

 

For many of the UK's streets, you can now see photographs of the buildings, pavements and, in some cases, people of the city that you're examining.

 

But it's not necessarily a good idea, as these two links explain....

 

 

Season 2008/2009: Match 20: Montrose v Dumbarton

The world of football seemed to go insane today.

First, Manchester United, they of the unbeatable defence and record-breaking goalkeeper, conceded four goals at home while getting a right royal pumping from Liverpool.

Then, just hours later, Montrose recorded the first home win of Steven Tweed's managerial career.

The winning goal was a peach, a thumper of a volley from coach Jamie McKenzie (playing today as a trialist) flying past the goalkeeper.

Truth be told, Montrose could have had five or six, and again their inability to score more looks like it could haunt them in the future. The closest Dumbarton came to scoring was again a Steven Tweed error, the player-gaffer looking erratic at the back, although less so than in recent weeks.

Montrose didn't seem to miss Keith Gibson, their former captain, who moved to Arbroath at the start of the week, and Jamie Buchan looks an astute replacement wearing the skipper's armband.

A week's a long time in football.

(Oh, and this for The Tomahawk Kid and Big Rab - get it right up you!)

The Beatles v LCD Soundsystem v The Kinks...

...Here

Season 2008/2009: Match 19: Montrose v Forfar

My Montrose season ticket costs £140 a season.

That's a lot of money to watch joiners play football.

It's a lot of money to watch joiners not play football.

Beaten 3-1 at home in a local derby shows how inept Montrose have become recently. The home side were, once again, hopeless. Steven Tweed insists on playing himself at centre back despite clearly being some way off the pace.

I could go on and on about where Montrose are going wrong. I won't. Surely if it's apparent to me, it must be apparent to those within the club....

Who Knows?

After reading a post on classic broadcasting moments at another blog, I was reminded of this (possibly fictitious) story told to me by a lecturer on my journalism degree:

A radio commentator was at Hampden for a Scotland v Romania match, and was sitting amidst the assembled hacks delivering his description of the game.

The Romanian players were unknown to the Scottish media and fans, and it was difficult to work out which player was which.

When Romania scored, the commentator yelled excitedly: “That’s a wonderful goal for Romania”.

Covering the microphone, he asked the reporter next to him: “Who scored the goal?”

To which the reply came: “Fucked if I know”.

And the commentator then announced to the eagerly listening Scottish public: “A truly astounding goal from Fokdivano”.

Fail

Never Annoy A Pair Of Scouse Cage Fighters

I'm sure there are several morals to this tale, but I'm not entirely sure what they are. Follow the first link then watch this video.

Warning - the video is not suitable for work.

Friday Ten: My Ten Favourite Montrose Players

1. John Baird

2. Jamie Buchan

3. Stephen Black

4. Keith Gibson

5. Paul Stewart

6. Kevin Bradley

7. Chris Hegarty

8. Chris McLeod

9. Greg Kelly

10. Hugh Davidson

Chess With The Presidents

Jaggy was right - the mystery celebrity in the previous post was Paul "Gazza" Gascoigne.

I've said before that Gazza is amongst my favourite footballers of all time, and that Brian Laudrup is the only player I've seen in a Rangers shirt who would be his equal.

But he's clearly a serious ill man with myriad problems that don't have an easy solution. Problems that have been exacerbated by fame and fortune from a young age and by a series of hangers-on who have indulged his every whim and ridden the gravy train until it was so far off the rails as to be insalvageable.

My favourite part of the article from the previous post is this section:

"I rang my dad and said, "Get your stuff ready. Me and you are going to Madison Square Garden to play chess against President Bush and President Clinton." God knows what I was going on about — I didn't even have a chess board."

Aye Gazza, that was the fatal flaw in your plan to play Presidents Bush and Clinton at chess in Madison Square Garden - the lack of a board....

Guess Who?

Who is the celebrity describing their descent into madness in the following text? Answer tomorrow.

 

"It was a new room, but the same problems. I drank and played the Wii and that's it. But then I started doing really unbelievable things."

 

"I rang my dad and said, "Get your stuff ready. Me and you are going to Madison Square Garden to play chess against President Bush and President Clinton." God knows what I was going on about — I didn't even have a chess board. I knew I was doing it, but I just couldn’t stop myself."

 

"I rang Dad back and said Bush is busy but Clinton is getting back to me. I was in a fantasy world."

 

"I then ordered two toy parrots that talk back to you. They record what you say and repeat it. I began to feel they were about the only people who would talk to me."

 

"I looked in the mirror one day and remember one of the parrots saying: "I can see two of you"."

 

"I looked around and saw the two parrots having a conversation — or at least I thought they were. I started to think they were real and once ordered three pints — one for me and one each for the parrots."

 

"I'd get them to talk until the batteries ran out. Then I'd get room service to change the batteries."

 

"A few minutes later I looked for them, forgot the porter had taken them to change the batteries, and thought they had flown away."

 

"The porter brought them back with new batteries and I shoved one of them under the shower as a punishment for flying away."

 

"One day someone said the problem with me was I was mad. I had a marker pen and thought: "I’ll show you who's mad.""

 

"So I wrote the word 'Mad' on my forehead. Trouble was I did it while looking in the mirror so it was backwards. I couldn’t get it off for four days."

Twittering On

I signed up for Twitter this week.


I didn't know anything about Twitter until fairly recently, when The Tomahawk Kid asked if I was on Twitter. I wasn't at that time, but my acquisition a fortnight ago of an all-singing, all-dancing, ultra-modern internet mobile phone encouraged me to take the plunge and sign up.


So far, I'm intrigued. Twitter seems to be Facebook without the constant oneupmanship, stupid games and getting poked by idiots from school you'd rather forget.


But it's just the latest in a long line of social networking sites that have suckered me in. Over the years, I've joined Friends Reunited, MySpace, Bebo, WAYN, Facebook and probably several others that I've forgotten.


So while I can now send an emailed photograph of myself to the six people worldwide who are bored enough to want to know what I'm doing (including Barack Obama), my own wife doesn't know what I had for lunch today and my parents don't know what I'm currently watching on TV.


It's a strange world we live in.

Season 2008/2009: Match 18: Montrose v East Stirlingshire

I'm sure that in some religions, there is a 3,056th circle of hell where tortured souls are forced to watch a never-ending Montrose v East Stirlingshire match, believing, when they enter Hades and are given the choice of the football or daily disembowelment with a rusty garden trowel, that the soccer will be the lesser of two punishments.

Today's encounter, from a Montrose follower's point of view, was horrendous, and I'd almost be tempted to sign up for the daily gutting with a garden implement, if only so that I never have to watch the Steven Tweed and Tony Bullock Comedy Defending Masterclass ever again.

Back in September, Montrose romped to a 3-0 win over 10-man Shire, displaying class and flair from start to finish.

But since then, they've been down to Falkirk for the return tie, where they received a 5-0 pumping at the hands, feet, heads, shoulders, knees and toes of Jim McInally's men.

I've said before that it's obvious Tweed wants Montrose to play fast, attractive, passing football. They were murder today though, unable to carve out even simple opportunities. Shire only scored twice, both goals in the second half, but it was two going on 17.

The result leaves Montrose in fifth place in Division Three, now three points behind today's visitors and looking far removed from potential promotion chasers.

You know your team's shite when a man called Mad Bill, who carries a plastic bag wherever he goes and screams incoherently throughout the match, can take the piss with impunity.

Where Are The Toothless Hags?

The Daily Mash is almost always funny, but this tale of Roman Pavlyuchenko's struggle to adapt to life in Britain made me laugh out loud.

The Best Video Game Tie-Ins That Never Were

This site made me laugh - especially American History X for the Wii.

Lego For REALLY Big Kids

Flyin' Gigs

It's bloody cold here in deepest, darkest, Jockshire. I think last week was the first I can remember when it snowed every day for a week.

The streets of Aberdeen are still covered in snow, and it's still deep in fields lining my train route into the city each morning. Curtains of frozen water cling to the cliffs between Aberdeen and Stonehaven, and the pavements in the city are, in places, dangerously slippery.

All in all, it's not ideal gig weather, but last night a few friends and I set off to Moshulu to see Late of The Pier.

Opening act Connan Mockasin (yep, both of those names are spelt correctly) were already on stage when we entered the venue. They were oddly ramshackle - a drummer in a deerstalker hat and a young guy with an unruly shock of blond hair playing an odd assortment of instruments while singing in a strangled yelp. They were better than that description makes them sound, honestly....

They were followed by Micachu and The Shapes (it was a night of bizarrely-named bands), who were, if truth be told, the most interesting band of the night. A lead singer who looked like a 14-year-old boy, but is actually a 21-year-old woman, led the three-piece band through a fast-paced set incorporating quick rhythm changes and clever harmonies. Definitely ones to watch.

And so to the headliners. I hadn't heard much of Late of The Pier's stuff prior to the gig, but I expected a noisy, fast-paced set - and I wasn't wrong.

As the gig was an over-14s event, the crowd was young and excitable, two features of the audience the band played on to rollock through an electro-punk set. The band's arrogance, while it undoutedly spurs them on while onstage, became a bit grating as the set wore on, but they were well worth the remarkably low entrance fee of £9.

All in all, a good night was had by each of us, especially given the less than ideal weather conditions outdoors.

Season 2008/2009: Match 17: Montrose v Berwick Rangers

Back in August, I watched Montrose dominate a piss-poor Berwick side at Links Park, take the lead early on, control most of the possession and finally drop two points by conceding a late equaliser.

History repeated itself yesterday, even down to my having a hangover due to drinking until the early hours in Aberdeen the previous evening.

Montrose's opening goal was a well-worked set piece, Jamie Buchan flighting a free kick to the back post for Keith Gibson to volley home.

But no matter how hard they pressed for the second goal that would have killed the match off, Montrose couldn't find it.

Both sides had men sent off in the last ten minutes, and Berwick scored an undeserved equaliser late on.

Too often this season, Montrose have dropped points in matches they should easily have won. Nonetheless, the football Steven Tweed is encouraging his players (and fellow team mates) to play is fast, with the ball kept down as much as possible.

I'll retain a (perhaps misplaced) optimism at the moment - I'm convinced Montrose just need to find their killer instinct to set them on the road to success.

Friday Ten: My Ten Least Favourite Celtic Players

1. Neil Lennon

 

2. Roy Aitken

 

3. John Hartson

 

4. Artur Boruc

 

5. Chris Sutton

 

6. Pierre van Hooijdonk

 

7. Peter Grant

 

8. Giorgios Samaras

 

9. Kenny Miller (Is that one allowed?)

 

10. Steven McManus

Snow Rest For The Wicked

How much I wished I was a child today.

When Baby Brother and I were younger, we lived around 30 miles from our high school, so when winter hit properly, we could often be snowed in for a whole week, six-foot drifts making the roads unpassable for all vehicles, never mind school buses.

But instead, as Aberdeen was smothered beneath a blanket of white powder, I was in my company's office from 8am to 5pm attempting to make sense of dozens of interlocked spreadsheets forecasting vessel utilisation and other equally riveting topics.

What I would have given to have instead spent the morning launching snowballs at Baby Brother and sledging down increasingly steep slopes, before moving inside once I'd lost all feeling in my extremities to warm up beside the fire.

Farewell

I hate funerals.

Season 2008/2009: Match 16: Rangers v Dundee United

I made my first trip of the season to Ibrox today, thanks to the season ticket of a colleague who has moved to our employer's Singapore office.

I'd imagine he was a tad warmer than I was while he watched the match in his equatorial apartment, as it was a biting wind that greeted those hardy souls who turned out to watch Rangers tangle with a Dundee United side accustomed to taking points from the Old Firm.

Rangers were the brighter of the two sides early on, but struggled to break down the stubborn visitors and avoid the linesman's flag.

The line-up sent out by Walter Smith was more attack-minded than that selected in recent weeks, with Kris Boyd, Nacho Novo and John Fleck all starting, though Novo was substituted before half time having sustained what appeared to be a sprained ankle.

Dundee United, probably feeling the effects of Wednesday night's mammoth League Cup semi-final, were nonetheless well organised and coped well with everything Rangers threw at them. The longer the match went on, the more likely it seemed that the Tannadice side would hold on for at least a point.

Then, with barely 15 minutes remaining, the miniscule Fleck burst into the box, where he was hauled to the ground by Mihael Kovacevic. It takes a 17-year-old with considerable cojones to step up to the penalty spot ahead of international strikers, his club captain and players who have been playing professional football since before he was born.

The wee man made no mistake from the spot, slamming his kick to Celtic-bound Lukas Zaluska's right, the keeper diving the wrong way. So now I can say I was there when one of the most highly-regarded youngsters in British football scored his first Rangers goal.

Kyle Lafferty added a late second as Dundee United left massive gaps at the back while pursuing an equaliser.

It wasn't an astute performance from Rangers, with an apparently gifted side toiling against a determined defence, and a lack of vision shown by a midfield that should be oozing creativity. Plus points were the performances of Bougherra, Fleck and Davis, the three players who looked likeliest to create something of note for Rangers. Serious question marks remain over the defence though, with none of Bougherra's three defensive partners - Davie Weir, Kirk Broadfoot and Steven Whittaker - looking entirely convincing.

And Barry Ferguson looks increasingly like a liability - too big for his boots, determined always to be the centre of attention, but never doing anything to justify his own over-inflated view of his own worth.

Can Rangers win the title? Without a doubt. But not without some substantial improvements, and a dose of luck.

Friday Ten: My Ten Favourite Rangers Players

1. Brian Laudrup

2. Paul Gascoigne

3. Ally McCoist

4. Andy Goram

5. Mark Hateley

6. Richard Gough

7. Rino Gattuso

8. Ian Durrant

9. Giovanni van Bronckhorst

10. Jorg Albertz

The Fifteenth Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge

Three of last week's mystery tunes were correctly identified, Neepheid and Rob each spotting two of them. Answers to that quiz are now in comments on that post.

Here are this week's lyrics for you to identify - name the artist and song based on the lyrical snippet. No Googling!

1: Burn all the candles out, make a wish but not aloud.

2: We scratch our eternal itch, a 20th Century bitch.

3: And the spectres in the masonry remind us of the things that might have been.

4: You know that I would love to see you in that dress.

5: The camera's here and the microphones and they wanna know.

Victorious

Almost all victories on the football field give the victors a warm glow at the final whistle.

But when you're the player who slams home the winning goal in a 4-3 victory over the dirtiest, whiniest, girniest, most unnecessarily and misguidedly aggressive team in the league - it's an especially warm glow.

Dying Virgin

The current collapse of some of Britain's best-known high street traders has had an unexpected effect.

When Woolworths announced that it had begun a closing down sale, the day immediately following the announcement was the 100-year-old company's record highest day of trading. The Aberdeen brach was like food parcel day at a UN refugee camp, scrums of people all but slamming each other into the rapidly emptying shelves.

Yesterday, Mrs Wife and I ventured into Dundee and found ourselves in Zavvi, the oddly-named record emporium formerly known as Virgin.

(Richard Branson obviously bailed at just the right time. And the Virgin is now right royally screwed.)

It was a similar situation to that we encountered in Woolies just before it closed - the shop probably seeing more money flowing into its tills in single days than in the previous six months combined.

It's a curious situation - we're only tempted out into the shops when we think there's a bargain to be had, and we don't care enough to spend money in well-kent high street stores until they're wheezing their last dying breaths.

Advertising At Its Best

Jesus Crashes His Speedboat

 

Uninformed

Over the past three days, I've been reading The Independent's guide to Presidents of the United States of America (as in the heads of state of the world's most powerful country, not the 90s college rock band).

Flicking through the book makes me brutally aware of how little history I'm actually aware of - I'd barely heard of most of the men who have led America since George Washington, and I'm even shamefully ignorant of most of the pre-Reagan presidents.

But thinking about it, I'm not terribly well-versed in the leaders of my own country - both monarchs and Prime Ministers. I was born during Thatcher's reign, but prior to Maggie, I'm very hazy on who followed who.

Considering that I'm supposed to be a journalist (well, actually I've been a market analyst since January 1st, but it's the same ballpark), I suppose I should really know more about the history of this wee green country on this wee blue planet.

A bit of learning is in order methinks.

Season 2008/2009: Match 15: Montrose v Annan Athletic

Football can be a right pain in the ass.

Montrose kicked off under their fifth manager of the season yesterday, former Hibs and East Fife defender Steven Tweed having been appointed player-gaffer on a two-and-a-half year contract during the week.

Aside from playing himself at centre back, Tweed's team was largely unchanged from that fielded by Kenny Black the previous week, a team that won 3-1 against Elgin City.

On paper, Montrose should have been too much for an Annan Athletic side still coming to terms with playing their first season in the league. Unfortunately, games in Montrose are played on plastic, not paper.

They were definitely the better side, but that will be no consolation to a Montrose side that lost 3-0. The first goal came against the run of play, Graeme Bell sidefooting the ball into the goal off the underside of the crossbar.

Former Montrose loanee Scott Anson added a second after the break, but the best finish was probably Montrose captain Keith Gibson's, the big midfielder turning a Phil Storey cross beyond Greg Kelly and into the bottom corner of his own net.

So the Steven Tweed era began in inauspicious fashion, and hopefully things will pick up soon. Last week Montrose looked like potential promotion winners, yesterday they looked far from fluid.

The Fourteenth Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge

Four of the five tracks from the thirteenth Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge were spotted by my eagle-eyed (or should that be eagle-eared?) readers. Answers are now in the comments on that post.

So now to this week's selection - simply identify the five tracks pulled at random from Magic Tune Box III, no Googling allowed.

1. We're gonna chug-a-lug and shout.

2. Oh what a feeling there'll be, the moment I know she loves me, 'cause when I look in her eyes I realise, I need her sharing her world beside me.

3. Like most babies smell like butter, his smell smelled like no other.

4. I've been casing your joint for the best years of my life, like the look of your stuff, outta sight.

5. You bite through the big wall, the big wall bites back.

Lack Of Interest

People who don't like music fascinate and scare me in equal measure.

I've got a very vague guideline that anyone who owns fewer than 20 CDs/LPs/cassettes (a vintage one there, nostalgia fans)/downloads - the medium is unimportant - can't and shouldn't be trusted.

As far as I'm concerned, someone who claims to have no interest in music has no interest in life. For every occasion, for every mood, for every type of weather and for every time of day, there is a song, an album or a melody.

Take late at night, when you're alone and preparing for bed - that's the time for Massive Attack, Spiritualized or Mogwai's more gentle moments.

First thing in the morning is time for something with a beat - whether that's Kings of Leon, Dodgy, Girls Aloud or Chesney Hawks is a matter of personal preference.

And as the 3,000-song party playlist on my Magic Tune Box shows, there's an almost limitless supply of good-time tunes.

I once worked with a guy roughly the same age as myself who had broadly similar interests to mine - we both liked playing and watching football, a good movie and the occasional drink and game of pool.

But we differed in one key respect - he had absolutely no interest in music. He was always astonished that I would spend money on tickets and that I would travel from Edinburgh to Glasgow for gigs.

Perhaps the most tragic aspect was that this young fellow owned only a single CD.

I can barely bring myself to type any more, so sorry is the tale.

If anything shows that my erstwhile colleague had no interest in music, it is the title of that CD.

It was the seminal Magnum Opus that is....

....Texas' White on Blonde.

There but for the grace of a non-existant God go I.

Road To Recovery

I was back at the coalface today having had two days off to get my wisdom teeth out and recover, followed by a weekend of further recovery.

I felt fine the day after the bilateral removal, and thought that the whole process was going to prove pain free.

That was until I woke up in agony in the middle of Friday/Saturday night. It seems that the tender tissue around the stitches takes a couple of days to bruise.

So Saturday saw me increasing my dosage of painkillers, although things did improve a tad on Sunday.

The area around the spot where my lower wisdom tooth could formerly be found is still pretty tender, but I'm fairly sure I haven't burst the stitches. And the pain has, for the most part, moved into my jaw and tongue - I presume I'm using both differently while attempting not to bash my raw, stitched gum against my teeth.

Anyway, I was back at work today with breath that probably stinks to high heaven, what with having a recently-stitched wound in my mouth, and unshaven since Thursday, as my left cheek is too tender to shave.

And joy of joys, my new boss is over from Norway tomorrow - what an image I'm going to present!

Season 2008/2009: Match 15: Montrose v Elgin City

In the bleak midwinter, many matches across the UK were cancelled yesterday due to frozen pitches and conditions more suited to sitting inside and watching TV than sitting in a concrete and steel cowshed and watching what passes for football on this chilly wee island.

Angus alone saw both Brechin's Glebe Park and Forfar's Station Park deemed unplayable, but we're made of sterner stuff in Montrose. And our pitch is plastic.

So, having passed a 10.30am pitch inspection, Links Park was ready for action come 3pm. And by 3.05pm, Montrose were a goal behind, having conceded a goal to Kenny Wright, a striker decked out in pink boots.

Seriously, isn't there a law against Third Division players wearing pink boots? There was a time when only the super-talented, multiple cap-holding world superstars wore even white boots, but now we have part-time players on the lowest rung of the Scottish professional game wearing pink boots. I think FIFA needs to get involved.

Anyway, Montrose were trailing from the fifth minute, but never really looked like losing the match. They equalised in the ninth minute, Roddy Hunter sending a low shot skipping across the plastic and under Ally Ridgers for the equaliser.

The Links Park side were ahead a minute into the second half, Paul Hegarty's son Chris scoring his first Montrose goal from the penalty spot following a foul by David Niven on Stephen Black.

Skipper Keith Gibson added a third in the 73rd minutes, Ridgers again beaten by a shot from the edge of the box, the ball again slipping underneath him.

Gibson had the ball in the net again later, when it appeared he chested it across the line, but referee Craig Charleston deemed the finish to be handball and instead booked the midfielder.

So, Montrose recorded a win in their first match of 2009, moving back into the play-off spots in the process, although they've played more matches than most of their near rivals.

But on form like yesterday's, they're worthy of their billing as promotion chasers.

Aftermath

What a load of fuss about nothing.

I was in the dentist's chair for just 15 minutes, and my jaw and mouth were so numb and I was so relaxed that, not a word of a lie, I almost fell asleep.

I was genuinely surprised when the dentist announced that the bottom tooth was out and that she was about to start stitching, as I expected the procedure to take much longer and for it to be far more uncomfortable. The stitching was the worst part, as the dental nurse put pressure on my tongue to keep it out of road - I'm guessing that sewing the tongue to the gum is frowned upon in dental circles - and it made me want to gag.

As for the top tooth - the dentist simply told me to open wide, jammed whatever tool it was into my mouth and pulled hard - it takes Usain Bolt longer to run 100 metres.

Now though, my lower jaw is throbbing and I can't fully open my mouth. I was spitting blood for most of yesterday evening, but things seem to have settled down now. Last night's oral intake consisted of four paracetamol, four ibuprofen, two pieces of chocolate orange eaten with only one side of my mouth and a bottle of water. I've managed to have some corn flakes this morning though, but I've been told to do salt water rinses of my mouth every couple of hours, which sounds rank. Oh, and my breath stinks.

Apologies to Jaggy - no photographic evidence I'm afraid. There's no external swelling or bruising, and as the gaping hole in my jaw is right at the back of my mouth, I can't get a camera close enough to take a photo.

Wise?

Both my regular readers may remember that a few months ago, I was told I'd need to have a pair of wisdom teeth removed.

And those of you who read my internet-based textual tripe may also remember that I opted to undergo this bilateral removal under local anaesthetic, rather than while knocked out or sedated.

Well, today is the day that I clamber into the dentist's chair to have one of the hardest parts of my body sawn in two and ripped out of my face. Then go through it all again as the dentist looks to make a perfect matching set.

Nerves? Not yet. I'm trying not to think about it. But I'm preparing to be in a lot of pain afterwards, and to look like like I've gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson.

Mike Hunt's Cousin

I don't know whether or not this is genuine....

Spent Force

Got some spare cash even despite Christmas and the credit crunch?

Then grab yourself the attractive John Hartson statuette above, to remind you of the Setanta pundit and erstwhile Celtic and Wales striker's stunning good looks.

(OK, it's not actually a John Hartson statuette - it's a Darth Vader unmasked piggy bank. Uncanny resemblance though, no?)

The Thirteenth Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge

It may be a new year, but there are loose ends to tie up.

The Twelfth Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge took place more than a month ago, and answers are now in the comments on that post. The winners from that challenge were Rab (at least I'm presuming he's the mystery anonymous commenter), Stu Who? and The Tomahawk Kid.

However, time marches on, and we've hit unlucky 13 in the challenge that I shamelessly stole from TK himself. The rules are simple - lyrical snippets from five random offerings from The Magic Tune Box are printed below - simply name the artist and song without resorting to Google or other means of cheating.

1. How old are you? Are you old enough? Should you be in here watching that?

2. You love blow and I love puff, And life is like a pipe.

3. My man is smooth like Barry, and his voice got bass, A body like Arnold with a Denzel face.

4. When there's northerners and southerners, And westenders in Eastenders.

5. DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down.

Gonna Party Like It's Twenty Zero Nine

My hangover has abated sufficiently to enable me to look at a computer monitor without wincing, my feet have thawed enough to allow me to walk without a peculiarly numb-toed rolling gait and Mrs Wife's Mither has served up a sumptuous New Year's Day feast, so all that is left for me to do before retiring to the sofa is to wish everyone a happy, healthy and prosperous 2009.

The 2008 Jock Awards

It's Christmas time, there's no need to be afraid.

 

At Christmas time, we let in light and banish shade.

 

And we also rank the year's best records, bands and movies to determine which will be remembered forever more and which will be consigned to a bargain bin in a high street store other than Woolworths.

 

Like the Oscars, except Roman Polanski is allowed to attend the ceremony if he wants to.

The Stone Roses award for Album of The Year: (Nominees: Kings of Leon - Only By The Night; Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid; AC/DC - Black Ice; The Fireman- Electric Arguments; Portishead - Third; Glasvegas - Glasvegas)
It's been a cracking year for albums, and in any other year we could have expected Oasis, Primal Scream, Coldplay, Supergrass and The Verve to be amongst the leaders for the first award. But once again it was Elbow who proved to be probably the best band in the country, their fourth record standing shoulder to shoulder with its three classic forebears. The Seldom Seen Kid also helped belatedly vault the band to the next level of their careers, scooping the Mercury Music Prize. Opening track Starlings is as good a love song as I've ever heard, and One Day Like This was the soundtrack to the summer's festivals. Simply put, The Seldom Seen Kid stood head and shoulders above every other album released this year.

The Strawberry Fields Forever award for Single of The Year: (Nominees: Oasis - The Shock Of The Lightning; Oasis - I'm Outta Time; The Verve- Love Is Noise; Elbow - Grounds For Divorce; Elbow - One Day Like This; Kings Of Leon - Sex On Fire; Jeff Buckley - Hallelujah)
"I remember the days when a single was a proper CD - yes a CD - and it had FOUR songs on it - yes FOUR SONGS." I can already foresee a future when I'm telling young, impudent, relatives that things were so much better in "my day". Anyway, in the download era, any track available on iTunes can top the singles chart, as so nearly happened with Jeff Buckley's rendition of Hallelujah, propelled into the chart for the first time by the anti-X Factor masses. But for me, the defining track of the year was The Verve's comeback single Love Is Noise, complete with odd hooting noise looped throughout the whole length of the song. I picked up the album the day I flew to Norway with four colleagues, and drove them to distraction by "singing" the hooting part on repeat. And every time I hear it, I'm back in the Stavanger sun, drinking free beer.

The Rolling Stones award for Live Act of The Year: (Nominees: Elbow; Oasis; Gomez; Glasvegas; The Dusty Rhodes River Band)
Unusually, I've not been to many gigs this year - holidays in China tend to soak up large swathes of time and disposable income. Nonetheless, Oasis gave a solid performance at the AECC to bring back memories of the first concert I ever saw, the same band at the same venue in 1997. But the best performance I witnessed all year was Elbow's mid-afternoon slot at the Connect festival in Inveraray. Far too short, the band were nonetheless spectacular, opening with Starlings and closing with One Day Like This, with the cracking Leaders Of The Free World in between. A performance that really whetted the appetite for seeing them again in March. Although next year they'll be up against AC/DC at Hampden and Robert Zimmerman at the SECC....

The Goodfellas Award for Movie of the Year: (Nominees: The Dark Knight; No Country For Old Men; Wanted; There Will Be Blood; Charlie Wilson's War; Wall-E; Quantum of Solace)
Absolutely no contest. Daniel Day Lewis may have won an Oscar for There Will Be Blood, and the Cohen brothers for No Country For Old Men, but one movie stood cowl and cape above the rest during 2008. The Dark Knight may end up being most famous for being Heath Ledger's final, frightening swansong, but the movie kicked ass from beginning to end.

The Knight Rider award for TV Programme of The Year: (Nominees: Spooks; Desperate Housewives; Lost; Fringe; Heroes)
For the first time in the three-year history of The Jock Awards, Lost fails to take the top TV programme gong, and for the first time a British show leads the way. Spooks may be a dramatised version of life within MI5, but it's created in such a way, with believable characters, absorbing back stories and gripping action, that it draws the viewer entirely into the world of British and international espionage.

The Marilyn Monroe award for Babe of The Year: (Nominees: Megan Fox; Hayden Panettiere; Salma Hayek; Nadine Coyle; Cheryle Cole)
Assuming, as always, that Mrs Wife is the genuine winner of this category from now until the end of the Blogosphere, Salma Hayek lifts the crown as the hottest woman on Earth. Why? Here's why.

The Jet Set Willy Award for Computer Game of The Year: (Nominees: Football Manager 2009; FIFA Soccer 2009)
Probably the only two "new" games I've played this year go head-to-head for the title. And, as ever, Sports Interactive's glorified spreadsheet scoops the gong. Now with an added 3D match engine, Football Manager continues to go from strength to strength.

The Godfather III award for Biggest Disappointment of The Year: (Nominees: The Verve - Forth; Dirty Pretty Things live; the death of Woolworths)
It was a comeback that promised so much. The early glimpses of The Verve's new material, courtesy of the free download Thaw Sessions, suggested a swirling psychedelic thunder of guitars and Richard Ashcroft's booming baritone. Then came first single Love Is Noise, the best track of the year and the soundtrack to my summer. But the album fell flat, lacking direction, attitude and excitement. A big disappointment from a band capable of so much more.

The Screamadelica award for Scottish Album of The Year: (Nominee: Glasvegas - Glasvegas; Primal Scream - Beautiful Future) Slim pickings north of the border once again, with The Fratelli's second record failing to set the pulse racing. Glasvegas stole the show with their tales of heartbreak, social workers, flowers, fitba taps and lost daddies.

THE NEED FOR CONTACTING YOU

It's Christmas time, a time for giving and for sharing. That being the case, I'd like the advice of both my readers on whether I should help Miss Glory Favor from Sudan, who has just this minute sent me a sweetly-worded email begging for salvation. What think you, dear citizens of the blogosphere?  

Hello Dear,
Permit me to inform you of my desire of going into financial transaction with you for our mutual benefits hence i write with do respect, iam Miss Glory Favor from Sudan, I am a lady,with black hair,brown eyes,5fts 1inches tall,weigh 50kgs.
I wish to request for your assistance in a financial transaction, dear i got your contact in a cause of serious search in internet for a transaction partner,i wish to invest in a manufacturing and real estate management industry in your country, i have ( five million,five hundred thousand united state dollars ) to invest in industry and i will require your assistance in receiving the funds into your position in your country.
 I will gladly give you 10% of the total sum for your assistance,please it is important you contact me immediately for more clearifications on the next step hence it is my wish to relocate to your country as soon as this transaction is concluded.
Awaiting your immediate response,contact me,
Thanks,
Miss Favor

Season 2008/2009: Match 14: Montrose v Albion Rovers

Last week, I suggested that if Montrose's results didn't improve, caretaker manager David Hannah would find his tenure would be very short.

In the seven days that passed between that game against Cowdenbeath and yesterday's match with Albion Rovers, Hannah fell on his sword, having won four and lost four of his eight matches in charge.

Director of football Kenny Black, father of Montrose's best player Stephen Black, took charge of the first team yesterday, and the team looked solid and dangerous.

That was for the first five minutes at least, as it took winger and top goalscorer Kevin Bradley only six minutes to receive a straight red card for kicking out at his marker. It was the second red card a Montrose player has received for that same offence in the space of two weeks.

The curious thing about Bradley's sending off was that it came with Montrose having ben awarded a free kick for a foul by the Albion Rovers left back.

So, once Bradley had completed his trudge of shame across the pitch and down the tunnel, Stephen Black whipped the ball into the box and on-loan striker Calum Smith lashed it into the net on the half volley.

In the space of 30 seconds, Montrose had been reduced to ten men and had taken the lead.

From then on, Montrose actually looked quite assured in possession, forcing Albion to rely on shots from long range to test goalkeeper Greg Kelly.

But in the second half, tired legs and the numerical disadvantage cost Montrose, who succumbed to an equaliser in the 56th minute and a beautifully-taken winner from Bobby Barr four minutes later.

I've always liked watching Albion Rovers, not because they play like Barcelona (they don't) or because I've got an emotional or geographic tie to them (I don't), but because their strips always remind me of Melchester Rovers.

Albion certainly don't have a Roy Race figure leading them towards glory, and I think a full-strength Montrose side would have crushed them yesterday. But Rovers do have what passes for a celebrity fan in the Irn Bru Scottish League Division Three, with stand-up comedian (one of the funniest men in Scotland and a club director) Pat Rollink watching from the stand as Albion moved to within five points of their hosts.

Hopefully, the latest change in leadership will be enough to rejuvenate the Links Park side. There were enough good signs on show yesterday to suggest that a run of good results is just around the corner.

Odd Product, Great Comments

The mind boggles

Friday Ten: My Ten Favourite Christmas Songs

It's the last Friday before Christmas, so the time is right to give a festive spin to the Friday Ten. This week - my ten favourite Christmas tunes, both traditional and modern.

 

1. Merry Xmas Everybody - Slade

 

2. Happy Christmas (War Is Over) - John Lennon & Yoko Ono

 

3. Silent Night

 

4. Fairytale Of New York - The Pogues with Kirsty MacColl

 

5. Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer

 

6. I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Wizzard

 

7. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

 

8. All I Want For Christmas Is You - Mariah Carey

 

9. Santa Claus Is Coming To Town

 

10. Merry Christmas Everyone - Shakin' Stevens

 

I'd have put Stay Another Day by East 17 in, but it's not reaaaaaaalllly a Christmas song, is it?

If You Don't Ask, You'll Never Know

Time is of the essence and I'm short on both inspiration and energy, so, in lieu of a "proper" post, here's a meme I spotted at Parkway Rest Stop.

Do you remember your first favorite song? If so, what was it?
I think it was probably "Flash Gordon" by Queen. Mither played Queen's Greatest Hits all the time when I was a wee lad, and this song about an intergalactic superhero battling Ming The Merciless stood out to a four-year-old's ears. I was also convinced that "Bohemian Rhapsody" was four different songs. I went off Queen a loooooong time ago.

What do you refuse to eat?
I'm not a big seafood fan, but I don't know if I'd refuse to eat it at a dinenr party if there were no alternatives. But given a choice, I'd pass. I can happily leave most green vegetables as well.

Have you ever injected any kind of drug before? 
Nope. I've had vaccinations given to me by doctors and nurses, but I've never injected myself and hope to avoid doing so if at all possible.

Do amusement park rides make you sick? 
The waltzers have left me queasy a few times, but I've never felt sick on any others.

Who is your favorite Star Wars character? 
Darth Vader. The best fictional bad guy ever, and the most stylish.

What kind of cheese do you put on your sandwiches? 
Scottish mature cheddar.

What was the first thing you ever learned how to cook?
I'm not sure. I'd imagine we learnt to make rock cakes, scones or something similar at primary school. Otherwise, probably a boiled egg.

Did you ever collect beanie babies?
No. But I do collect loads of other stuff (stuff generally referred to by Mrs Wife as "useless shite").

When was the last time you got a haircut? 
About a month ago I think. Baby Brother's girlfriend did it as a homer.

Have you ever been to a bachelor/bachelorette party? 
Several, in locations as diverse as Newcastle, Skye, Inverness, Aberdeen and Amsterdam.

Where are you most ticklish on your body?
I'm not sure. Ask Mrs Wife.

Have you ever bailed anyone out of jail? 
No. I might do if asked, depending on the person and the offence which they were suspected of.

What’s the last board game you played?
I'm not sure. Possibly Monopoly or Scrabble. It's been a while.

Do you still own any VHS tapes?
Yeah, an atomic fuckload of them. We don't have a video player set up anywhere in Dungroanin' at the moment, but we've still got one somewhere. And a lot of tapes that we haven't replaced or digitally backed up yet.

Do you shop at JC Penney’s ever? 
Never even heard of it. I suppose it doesn't exist in Britain. 

If there was a real Jurassic Park, would you visit it?

Damn right! A chance to see real-live dinosaurs close up - try and stop me!

Do you ever read the newspaper? 
When I get the chance. I do like reading the Sunday papers, lounging around Dungroanin' with the football on, a cold drink and Football Manager running quietly in the background. I don't really get a chance to read the papers during the week, but I read The Guardian and the BBC news pages online.

Do you eat your mac & cheese with a fork or a spoon? 
I rarely eat macaroni and cheese, but on the occasions I do, I use a fork. A spoon for pasta? What am I, three?

Is there any medicine/pill you take every day? 
None. Hopefully that will remain the case for a long time.

How many 20 dollar bills do you have on you right now? 
None. I do have a ten pound note though, which until recently was worth about 20 dollars. Now it's worth about 15.

Would you do meth if it was legalized? 
I might try it once, just to see what it's like. But probably not, in all honesty.

Do you think Obama will be assassinated? 
I certainly hope not, but I think that there's a huge risk of it happening.

Have you ever made out with someone and then never saw them again?
Yes. Obviously before Mrs Wife (or her previous incarnation Miss Girlfriend) came along.

Do you drink egg nog?
I've never had it. Not sure it would appeal.

What are you wearing? 
Black trousers, black shirt with white checks, black socks, black shoes. I'm rocking the Johnny Cash look at work today.

Smashing

The "benefits" of a second floor city centre office - best seats in the house when bus meets lorry and comes off second best.

Season 2008/2009: Match 13: Montrose v Cowdenbeath

Yesterday, it felt like it had been ages since I had been to the fitba, a feeling that was due to missing the Angus derby with Forfar due to unforeseen circumstances, and the fact that Montrose's schedule seems to have worked out in a two weeks home, two weeks away system.

Montrose and Cowdenbeath lined up yesterday level on points, although the Fife side had a game in hand. Both teams are, on the face of it, promotion contenders, but Montrose have been haemoraghing goals and points at an alarming rate recently, and any hopes they have of even making the play-offs are evaporating fast.

In fairness, the home side dominated yesterday, but could do everything except put the ball into the Blue Brazil net. By contrast, Cowden had one genuine goalscoring chance and took it.

Montrose played some nice football at times, with the guts of the side more than capable of keeping the ball on the ground and playing fast passing football. But none of the players yesterday looked like a genuine striker, which will be of particular discomfort to striker Roddy Hunter. He was dismissed ten minutes from the end for aiming a kick at visiting goalkeeper David Hay, a red card that Montrose could well do without as they attempt to get their season back on track.

Unless things improve soon, David Hannah may find that his caretaker role as Montrose manager will be over all too soon.

To Russell, My Brother, Whom I Slept With

I'm sure that those of you who have visited Amsterdam won't need me to tell you that it's a crazy place.

But amid the city's relaxed attitude to sex, drugs and other nefarious activities, the strangest sight I spotted was the record sleeve below in a second hand vinyl emporium.

No further words can do it justice.

Damn Dam

Once again, I have returned from foreign climes thoroughly exhausted, and on this occasion the exhaustion is both physical and financial.

 

Seriously, seven Euros a drink? That puts Amsterdam ahead of Dublin in the "most expensive places I've ever been drunk" list.

 

Nonetheless, a great time was had by all, especially spending eight hours in a sports cafe on Saturday afternoon, where we were able to watch eight matches simultaneously from 4pm until 6pm before enjoying watching Sunderland frustrate Manchester United for 91 minutes, not to mention a whole dose of Dutch, Spanish and Italian football on top.

 

But now my eyes are heavy, my muscles are sore and my throat is burning. And I'm as financially robust as Woolies.

He's gone, He's gone, He's go-oh-one

ROY Keane resigned as manager of Sunderland yesterday to spend more time with the 26 voices that echo around the inside of his head.

Keane says his nuclear programme will be used for peaceful purposes

Keane quit his post after advice from Sir Gerald Basketball, an invisible scientist who Keane has been having conversations with for over a year.

He said last night: "It was a difficult decision so I consulted everyone - Sir Gerald, Billy the Mouse, Arthur the African Astronaut, Edwin and Trevor the 20ft twins, and, of course, the floating ghost of Ernie Wise.

"Sir Gerald kept saying 'It's your duty Master Roy' while Billy the Mouse said I should hang on in case all the other teams exploded.

"Ernie was great. He was the one who told me to grow a beard so I would look like President Ahmadinejad of Iran."

Keane said this season's poor performances were not entirely his fault as for the last six weeks the team has been picked by a bottle-nose dolphin that pops up in his bath every Friday night.

He added: "You know it's time to go when you're taking selection advice from a dolphin with absolutely no Premier League experience."

The former Manchester United captain said he would now be taking some time out from football to concentrate on a demanding programme of electro-shock therapy.

Blatantly stolen from The Daily Mash

Friday Ten: My Ten Favourite Bass Players

1. Paul McCartney (The Beatles)

 

2. Mani (The Stone Roses & Primal Scream)

 

3. Keith Richards (The Rolling Stones - for Sympathy For The Devil alone)

 

4. Flea (Red Hot Chili Peppers)

 

5. Didz Hammond (The Cooper Temple Clause & Dirty Pretty Things)

 

6. Bruce Foxton (The Jam)

 

7. Noel Redding (The Jimi Hendrix Experience)

 

8. Jack Bruce (Cream)

 

9. John Entwistle (The Who)

 

10. Krist Novoselic (Nirvana)

Clockwatching

In just over 24 hours, I'll be en route to Aberdeen airport to catch a flight to Amsterdam for a stag party.

 

Which makes the fact that I'm currently sitting at my desk staring out the window to pishing rain-soaked Aberdeen bus station all the harder to take....

Wake Up, There's A New Day Dawning

Thanks to The Tomahawk Kid for creating this "word cloud" for this far-flung outpost of the worldwide interweb. I'm presuming that it has collated the words based primarily on the front page, hence the sizeable contribution made by "insomnia", but it's interesting to see which words I use most frequently during my semi-literate and occasionally coherent ramblings.

 

The Twelfth Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge

It's been quite a while since we delved into the darkest recesses of Magic Tune Box, and I think today might even mark the debut of Magic Tune Box III on the Groanin' Jock Lyrical Challenge. The premise of the game is simple - five tunes picked at random from MTB3, with a portion of the lyrics revealed. Identify the tracks, leaving your answers in the comments - no Googling!

 

1. What I feel, I can't say, But my love is there for you anytime of day, But if it's not love that you need, Then I'll try my best to make everything succeed.

 

2. Gasping - but somehow still alive, This is the fierce last stand of all I am.

 

3. The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense, Take what you have gathered from coincidence.

 

4. I'm a rolling thunder, pouring rain, I'm comin' on like a hurricane

 

5. So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind, Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time

Tag-A-Thon

It's been a while since anyone on the worldwide interweb decided I was worthy of tagging, so thanks to Billy The Kid for this one, for which he was tagged by Rantz.

And this one's simple - five things about me.

1. I have no middle name. Mither never liked the fact that hers was her mother's maiden name, which isn't a standard girly-type name, and so decided that Baby Brother and I wouldn't have middle names. Which means that my real name has, in total, seven letters.

2. I've visited 21 of the world's countries (24 if you count England, Scotland, Norn Iron and Eire as separate nations). My first foreign trip was an exchange trip to Germany with the school in 1994, which also took me to Belgium and the Netherlands, sailing into Zeebrugge and out of Rotterdam.

3. The most recent new addition to the list above is Norway, which I visited with work in August. Stavanger reminded me of the town from The Goonies, albeit with more drunk Norwegians and £9 pints.

4. My first football match was Brechin City v Rangers for Dougie Scott's testimonial match in 1991. If memory serves correctly (and it probably doesn't) Brechin won 6-4. Ian Durrant scored a penalty for Rangers as he made his slow comeback from his horrific injury.

5. If I could only watch one DVD on repeat for eternity, I'd probably pick the first disc from the Fawlty Towers box set. Familiarity should really breed contempt, but not in this case. Communication Problems is actually funnier with every subsequent viewing.

Now, who to tag? Like Billy, I'll pick three of my favourite Scottish bloggers - The Tomahawk Kid, Big Rab and Mike Smith from Auld Reekie Rants.