Chicken

I like food, and I like eating.

Coupled with this startling revelation, I'm also lazy, so convenience food features more regularly in my diet than is probably recommended.

Take beans on toast for example - from can and bread bin to stomach in under 10 minutes. Perfect.

But I think that even I would baulk at Whole Chicken In A Can - yep, a whole bird in a massive tin that allegedly cooks in 15 minutes.

America, this is why large portions of the world hate you.

Disgraceful

Here's the video footage of the Kyle Lafferty / Charlie Mulgrew "headbutt".

As much as I thought that Lafferty made a meal of it at the time, even without the benefit of an instant replay, I did think that Mulgrew brought his head forward.

The pair of them should have been booked for handbags at ten paces (or half a pace in this instance). For Lafferty to hit the ground holding his face like that is inexcusable, and I hope Rangers fine him.

I want Rangers to win the league (a dream that just took a step closer to becoming reality thanks to Celtic's 0-0 draw at Hibs), but I want them to do so fairly, not through resorting to cheap tactics like that.

Season 2008/2009: Match 26: Rangers v Aberdeen

I was down in Glasgow yesterday for what will probably have been my last match of the season, Rangers against Aberdeen.

Many people think that the rivalry between Rangers and Celtic is the most heated in world football, and it's certainly up there. But in terms of poisonous atmospheres, it has nothing on this clash.

Within minutes of kick-off, Aberdeen's fans were singing sons glorifying the horrendous tackle that almost ended Ian Durrant's career more than 20 years ago. There is no love lost between the two groups of fans at all, a fact that nearly 20 years of mediocrity for the Sheep Shaggers has done nothing to dilute.

In the run-up to the match, when Rangers moved ahead of Celtic to the top of the SPL a week ago, there were brief thoughts that this could prove to be a title party for Rangers. Had Celtic dropped a point midweek and Rangers beaten Hibs, a win yesterday would have returned the title to Ibrox.

I was at Ibrox in 1996 the last time Rangers won the title by beating Aberdeen at home, when Gazza scored a magnificent hat-trick for a team containing Goram, Gough, McCoist and Laudrup and I had visions of repeating that day yesterday.

Of course, that dream collapsed with a Celtic win and a Rangers draw midweek, but the title chase is still on.

Today's squad has nothing like the quality of that 1996 side - Barry Ferguson in his prime might have made the bench, as would Allan McGregor, and Pedro Mendes might have scraped into the squad, but I doubt that any of the other players currently at Ibrox would have made the starting eleven for that side that secured an eighth title on the bounce.

Ferguson was restored to the squad for yesterday's clash, starting on the bench, his recent injury and the furore surounding his Scotland squad misdemeanours having subsided. Also on the bench were Nacho Novo and John Fleck, Walter Smith opting to start with the KKK trio of Kris Boyd, Kenny Miller and Kyle Lafferty.

It was Lafferty who made the headlines, but for the wrong reasons. The big Ulsterman flew into a challenge on Charlie Mulgrew with his studs up, sending the former Celtic man flying. When both players were back on their feet, there was an exchange of words before Lafferty went down clutching his face. From where I was sitting, it looked as though Mulgrew had moved his head forward, but I was fairly certain there was no contact.

A flurry of text messages from Aberdeen fans of my acquaintance, which included the words "cheat", "embarrassment" and "disgrace" confirmed my suspicions - Lafferty had gone down in a blatant attempt to get his opponent sent off.

He succeeded, Aberdeen reduced to ten men with 72 minutes of the match still to play. With the title chase likely to come down to goal difference, Rangers would never have a better chance to pile on a few goals.

But they were horrendous. The couldn't create anything, with Miller too far wide, Boyd cutting a lonely figure up front and Mendes unable to wield his usual level of control over the ball, and the first half seemed to be dying a slow death when referee Stewart Dougal and linesman Graham Chambers conspiring further to inject a bit of excitement.

Racing into the box, Madjid Bougherra slid into the six-yard box in pursuit of a through ball. His studs caught Aberdeen goalkeeper Jamie Langfield in the face, and the linesman adjudged the challenge to be dangerous play, Dougal giving the big defender his marching orders.

So it was with Steven Whittaker at centre back and Steven Davis at right back that Rangers started the second half.

Again, they failed to make much of an impact, struggling to create much against a resolute Aberdeen defence.

Finally, with an hour gone, Smith introduced Ferguson and Novo in place of Mendes and Boyd, and within seven minutes Rangers were 2-0 up.

The first came when Ricky Foster, at full stretch, turned Kenny Miller's cross from the left beyond Langfield. Then, two minutes later, Miller himself netted from a Nacho Novo cross.

The sense of relief within Ibrox was palpable.

I've been a recent critic of Barry Ferguson's, as I think that he's been a liability, winning a place in the team on reputation rather than merit. There's also a near unbearable arrogance around him, as evidenced by his behaviour when with the Scotland squad.

But his introduction yesterday reinvigorated Rangers, and his passing was more direct than usual, opening up the Aberdeen defence more easily than any of his team mates had found it in the previous hour.

With Rangers two goals up with 20 minutes to play, the chance was there for the Ibrox side to chase more goals in an effort to boost their goal difference.

All such hopes were dashed in the 77th minute when Michael Paton scored a soft goal, the Rangers defence unable to close him down before he could shoot.

Rangers were then faced with a difficult choice - chase more goals and risk conceding again and dropping two points, or shore up at the back and settle for a win, albeit by a single goal.

They opted for the latter, and moved back to the top of the league ahead of Celtic's match today. Should the Mhanky Mhob win against Hibs, they will return to the summit for the start of next Helicopter Sunday.

Do I think Rangers will win the league? Blind optimism says yes, common sense says no. Too many times poor refereeing decisions, odd team selections, poor form and mediocre players have conspired against the club to believe that there will be a dramatic enough swing on the final day.

What's most annoying is that this Celtic team is as poor as its Rangers counterpart. Would any of the players have made it into the teams managed by Tommy Burns, Wim Jansen, Jo Venglos or Martin O'Neill? Scott Brown maybe. Artur Boruc at his peak. Maybe Aiden McGeady.

Financial limitations for both sides have limited the quality of player available to Walter Smith and Gordon Strachan. Rangers' squad looks old, slow and limited in creativity. I would never doubt the work rate of Weir, Papac, Dailly, Bougherra, Miller et al, but their abilities simply aren't up to the standards of previous Rangers teams.

A cutting down of dead wood would probably be on the cards for Rangers this summer were it not for a lack of credible and affordable alternatives.

But, as the song says, no surrender....bring on Helicopter Sunday....

Friday Ten: The Ten Best Love Songs I Can Think Of Right This Second

1: Tightrope - The Stone Roses

 

2: Starlings - Elbow

 

3: Ain't No Sunshine - Bill Withers

 

4: Here, There and Everywhere - The Beatles

 

5: Creep - Radiohead

 

6: Layla - Derek and The Dominoes

 

7: Oh Yoko! - John Lennon

 

8: Angie - The Rolling Stones

 

9: Something - The Beatles

 

10: There Is A Light That Never Goes Out - The Smiths

Phenomenal

Hot Shot Hamish

I'm a bit sore today - our office football team played an 11-a-side match yesterday morning, with yours truly turning out in central midfield.

We only had 11 players, so everyone was forced to play the full 90 minutes. With the wind at our backs in the second half, we took a two-goal lead, both of them coming from my cultured right boot.

The first was a goal that, if David Beckham, Cristiano Ronaldo or Steven Gerrard had scored it, would be repeated ad nausem. Receiving the ball on the edge of the centre circle, I spotted the goalkeeper off his line and sent the ball over his head from somewhere between 40 and 50 yards.

My second was popped into the top corner from the edge of the box, and was captured on camera by Mrs Wife - I'm the blue-shirted player to the left of the defender on the ground:

But with the wind in our faces in the second half, we were unable to capitalise further and ended up losing 4-2.

And now my legs are stiff, my neck is sore and my right foot is swollen from a clash of studs near the end of the match.

But if Fergie needs someone to replace the suspended Darren Fletcher for the Champions League final, I think I should just about be fit. When was the last time Park Ji Sung scored from 40 yards?

Season 2008/2009: Match 25: Montrose v Albion Rovers

Exactly 10 months ago, I attended the first match of Montrose's pre-season campaign, a friendly against Dundee in which they were pumped 3-0.

A lot has happened at the club in the interim - they've had more managers than Newcastle, briefly threatened to reach the play-offs for the second consecutive season and have, on occasion, played some of the best football in Division Three.

It's all been a bit inconsistent though, and for all Montrose's pretty passing football, they don't score enough goals. But there have been indications recently that Steven Tweed is taking them in the right direction.

Anyway, today was Montrose's last match of the season, and neither they nor visitors Albion Rovers had anything to play for. But it seems no-one told the teams that, and they tore into each other at a frantic pace despite torrential rain.

The match had almost everything - three players (all Montrose) stretchered off, a nutmeg for the winning goal and Albion Rovers goalkeeper Jamie Ewings receiving a red card for a second bookable offence.

There was also a tearful farewell for Montrose winger Paul Stewart, who has been told his contract won't be renewed, primarily due to the cost of his travel expenses from the central belt.

How Steven Tweed will rebuild the side this summer remains to be seen - it's understood that the club intends to narrow its search for players to no further south than Perth.

But I am, for the moment, blindly optimistic that Montrose can challenge for the title next season. Christ almighty, if Dumbarton can win it....

Over The Moon

There's showboating, and then there's hitting a free kick like this.

Together Through Life

Well well well....oh well.....

Mrs Wife, myself and our friend Chippy went to see Bob Dylan at the SECC in Glasgow last night. Chippy had seen him before at Stirling Castle back in 2001, but for Mrs Wife and I, it was our first time in the same room as Mr Zimmerman.

I'm a big fan - I've got 20 of his 33 albums - and Mrs Wife knows enough of Dylan's music to be aware which songs are "the big ones".

Chippy and I went along knowing full well that this wasn't going to be a note-perfect rendition of Bob's classics from the 1960s and 1970. We knew that a lot of the songs are unrecognisable until he and the band hit the chorus (and even then some of them remain a mystery). We knew that his voice is essentially buggered beyond repair, although it still sounds vaguely passable on his two most recent albums.

When he and the band arrived on stage slightly later than expected (we had been told he would begin his performance at 7.30pm sharp), Bob burst straight into Maggie's Farm. And it was good. Not "wow that sounds just like the version on Bringing It All Back Home" good, but good enough that we could recognise it.

The band were good. No, correct that, the band were REALLY good - as tight a blues band as you'll ever see. But Bob seems to be enthralled by the country/blues sound at the moment, and each song was twisted to fit that template.

Far be it from me to tell a man who started performing before my parents were born how he should be singing his own songs, but when 12,500 people have shelled out fifty quid each to see you, I'd be of the opinion that you should perform your best-known songs, and perform them in such a way that they're in some way connected to the originals.

Like A Rolling Stone was horrendous. And I think Bob made it harder for himself than he needed to. If he'd stuck to the original arrangement so that the crowd could keep time and sing along, all he'd have needed to do would have been to sing the "How does it feel?" line, and the audience would have drowned him out on the rest. But it was too slow and too bluesed up. Still, at least he played it....

....which is more than can be said for most of his back catalogue. OK, he has 500 or more songs to choose from. And he must be bored of playing some of the older ones. But there were few concessions to history. All Along The Watchtower (which started with the band playing opening bars so thunderous that Chippy and I were both convinced that it was Hurricane) rolled out, and it was one of the highlights of the show, alongside The Ballad of Hollis Brown from The Times They Are A-Changin', which has long been one of my favourite Bob songs.

But. But, but, but, but. There was no It Ain't Me Babe, The Times They Are A Changin', Subterranean Homesick Blues, One Of Us Must Know, Rainy Day Women, Hurricane, Knockin' On Heaven's Door or Mr Tambourine Man.

In the case of the latter, that's probably just as well. Blowin' In The Wind closed the show, and it was the undeniable lowlight, the simple beauty of the acoustic peace anthem ripped to shreds by a band overplaying and a singer-songwriter no longer able to sing.

If any other band or artist mutilated their back catalogue the way Dylan did last night, they'd be pilloried. Imagine if Paul McCartney charged fifty quid a ticket, played two Beatles songs and another two hours of songs from his two most recent albums, all the while singing like a stroke victim. Or if Michael Jackson decides to freshen up his back catalogue at his London shows this summer by giving them a hip-hop overhaul. In either instance, there would be condemnation.

But it seems that with Bob, the very fact that he's a catankerous old bastard, and a living legend, seems to forgive to all sins. I heard countless people leaving the SECC state that the gig had been incredible.

I'm not entirely downhearted - I've seen Dylan. When all is said and done, I can say I've seen the man in the flesh, and heard him perform Like A Rolling Stone and Blowin' In The Wind. If I ever visit the pyramids in Egypt, I'll do so in the knowledge that I won't see Tutankhamun wandering around and lording it over some slaves. And I suppose it's the same with Bob - I didn't go along expecting to see the man at the peak of his powers, but instead just wanted to say I'd been there, just once, when Dylan played in Scotland.

Now I can.

(As a post script, I address this to Bob - If you're charging people fifty quid a ticket to see you, let them take photographs. I had three Group Four security guards tell me that photographs were banned by Bob himself, two tell me to delete photographs I'd already taken (aye, right) and one jump in front of me with his arms outstretched with the express intention of ruining a photo.)

Setting Off On Highway 61

Mrs Wife and I are off to Glasgow to see Bob Dylan today. So I'll leave you with the man at the peak of his powers.

21 Again

It's May Day today, which means it's my Granny's 83rd birthday - Happy Birthday to the world's greatest cook.

Waddle Enjoying A Goal A WEE BIT Too Much

Season 2008/2009: Match 24: Montrose v Brechin City

The words "Montrose" "Brechin City" and "cup final" are rarely used in the same sentence together, but tonight was the exception to the rule.

While the rest of Europe tuned in to watch Barcelona and Chelsea cancel each other out, 350-odd hardy souls braved the Angus cold for the Forfarshire Cup Final at Links Park.

Brechin City, who were only able to raise a 13-man squad for their league clash with Raith Rovers on Saturday, were favourites for the match, given that they are promotion chasers in Division 2.

Both sides fielded a mixture of first team and reserve players, but it was Brechin who looked the better side, especially in the first half. Young striker Stephen Etienne was a constant thorn in the side for Montrose and came close to scoring on a number of occasions, including a 25-yard drive that thumped against the crossbar.

Montrose never looked like scoring in the first half, and went in at half-time 2-0 down. They were better in the second half, young Ryan Stewart scrambling home the rebound after Roddy Hunter had side-footed a volley onto the crossbar.

But the comeback amounted to nothing and I think even the Montrose fans were glad to hear the final whistle so they could get home out of the cold.

Just to prove it was a genuine cup final, here's the Brechin captain receiving the Forfarshire Cup:

Season 2008/2009: Match 23: Montrose v Cowdenbeath

As I was taking my seat for today's Montrose match, I was trying to remember how long it had been since I'd seen the Gable Endies in the flesh, but couldn't remember.

My trip to England, which included the Norwich v Sheffield Wednesday and Nottingham Forest v Bristol City matches, meant that I hadn't been to Links Park since the win over Dumbarton on March 14.

Today offered Montrose the chance to dent another side's title hopes, top of the table Cowdenbeath hoping to stave off Dumbarton's recent surge towards the title.

The day started with Cowdenbeath a point ahead of Dumbarton at the top of the table, while Montrose knew that defeat would kill off their already slender hopes of making the promotion play-offs.

Things got off to a bad start, Cowdenbeath opening the scoring after 10 minutes, although scorer John Gemmell was so far offside when the ball was played that he was closer to Brechin than he was to any of the Montrose defenders. Nonetheless, the referee and linesman allowed the goal to stand, desite the remonstrations of the home players.

But from then on, Montrose looked the far superior side, forcing Cowdenbeath back into their own half and generally playing some good, attractive football.

It was the first time that I've been so impressed by one of Steven Tweed's Montrose sides, and now it may be that his influence is finally having some positive bearing on the team's results.

Cowdenbeath somehow managed to survive until half time, but it was more through luck than anything else, Montrose squeezing them throughout the half.

The same story was played out after the break, although it took 20 minutes for Montrose's domination to finally pay dividends, Tweed heading home from a Stephen Black corner.

Chris Hegarty (son of legendary Dundee United player Paul) secured the points from the spot six minutes later, sending David Hay the wrong way after Kevin Bradley had been tripped in the box.

Montrose could have added more to their tally, but Cowdenbeath forced them into some desperate defending late on. The home side did well to hang on though, and today's was a well-deserved victory over one of the division's better sides.

With Dumbarton thumping Forfar 4-0, the Blue Brazil (who played more like a Yellow Forfar today) slipped down to second spot in the league, two points behind the Sons, while Montrose closed the gap on Forfar and Annan, both of whom dropped points today.

It will still be a hefty challenge for Montrose to make the play-offs. But isn't being a football fan all about having blind optimism in the face of facts?

Mighty Mole

I've recently started playing golf (very badly), and somehow don't think my current level of ability would cope with this hole, the 19th at Legends Golf & Safari Resort in South Africa.

It's an 850-yard hole that incorporates a half-mile drop from tee to pin - and you need a helicopter to get between the two.

Economy Bailouts In Pictures

To help you get an idea of how much money is being used in global financial bailouts, check out this website.

The Last Waltz

In the May 2009 issue of The Stool Pigeon, the free music newspaper, there's a small feature on the 10 Most Popular Funeral Songs for people aged between 20 and 44.

Before I go any further, here's the list:

1. Jeff Buckley - Last Goodbye
2. REM - Everybody Hurts
3. The Verve - Bittersweet Symphony
4. Sinead O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2U
5. Robbie Williams - Angels
6. U2 - With Or Without You
7. Westlife - You Raise Me Up
8. Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart
9. Crowded House - Don't Dream It's Over
10. Gary Jules - Mad World

It's a strange assortment. From the sublime - Jeff Buckley and The Verve - to the ridiculous - Westlife.

With the possible exception of Bittersweet Symphony, none of the tracks is uplifting, all choosing to wallow in misery. I'm surprised that neither Oasis nor Nirvana make an appearance, and a little surprised that Crowded House make the list.

I decided long ago that the songs I'd like played at my funeral are The Beatles' Strawberry Fields Forever and Doves' Here It Comes.

But I think I'd also like something uplifting, perhaps in the vein of Elbow's One Day Like This or The Verve's Love Is Noise. I've heard in the past of a young man who died tragically early going out to the strains of Tenacious D's Tribute, in an effort to make everyone smile as they said goodbye to a dear friend and relative.

I've only been to one funeral that ended with a pop song, and it was The Byrds' version of Mr Tambourine Man. It made it difficult to listen to the song for a while afterwards, but it was a fitting way to say goodbye to the person in question.

The music played at your funeral should, at the end of the day (no pun intended), be something personal that means something to you and those in attendance.

I wonder if churches ever get requests for Too Drunk To Fuck by Dead Kennedys (for the chronic alcoholic), Star Fucker by Nine Inch Nails (for the groupie) or anything by Anal Cunt?

Where To Begin

Mrs Wife and I have returned home from our English break, having stopped en route to take in Cirque de Soleil's show in Glasgow with her parents - perhaps more on that later.

As is the case when I am left unattended in town centres or with internet access and free time, I seem to have acquired a large pile of music during our holiday, and I have now begun the task of putting it into iTunes - an endeavour that may take me some time.

While away, I have purchased through a variety of means the following CDs:

Mongrel - Better Than Heavy
Late of the Pier - Fantasy Black Channel
Public Domain - Bass In The Place
The Byrds - Sweetheart of The Rodeo
Clinic - Internal Wrangler
The Dears - Missiles
Dogs - Turn Against This Land
Doves - Kingdom Of Rust
Bob Dylan - Infidels
Bob Dylan - Oh Mercy
Bob Dylan - Time Out Of Mind
Elbow and The BBC Concert Orchestra - The Seldom Seen Kid Live At Abbey Road CD/DVD Box Set
Manic Street Preachers - Gold Against The Soul
Morgan - Organized
Placebo - Black Market Music
Proud Mary - The Same Old Blues
South - Adventures In The Underground Journey To The Stars
Stereo MC's - Deep Down & Dirty
VHS Or Beta - Night On Fire
Wire - Pink Flag
Neil Young - Are You Passionate?
Yourcodenameis: Milo - Print Is Dead Vol 1.
Trainspotting soundtrack

Which represents a varied selection of old records, new records, well-known records and obscure records from a pretty wide variety of genres I think. Finding time to listen to them may be the biggest problem, but I guess that's why we invented iPods and commuting to work.

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.