Saturday, February 28, 2009

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, February 27, 2009

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

Thursday, February 26, 2009

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....

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

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."

Monday, February 23, 2009

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.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

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.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

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.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

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.

Sunday, February 08, 2009

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, February 06, 2009

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

Thursday, February 05, 2009

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.