Monthly Archives: September 2009

Funny how it seems…

Just about the funniest thing I’ve seen from Jimmy Carr..

Sometimes a little thing can put a spring in my step. Check o... on Twitpic


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Tonight, I’m coming out the closet…

Yes, it’s time to confess.  To give up my sordid little secret.  To admit the truth, get it out in the open, to finally step out of the closet.

Yes.  I’m an NFL fan.  There, I’ve said it.  I’ve been an NFL fan since I came home from holiday in the mid 80’s to discover Channel 4 ha started broadcasting in the Borders.   NFL highlights were the first thing I saw on there.  New York Jets v Miami Dolphins the first game.  I’ve been a Jets fan ever since.  Something about the game just hooked me.  Now, if I can’t see it on Sky Sports, I’ll use mildly dodgy means on the internet to follow it.

As a Jets fan, the norm for a season is to have the odd high, interspersed with many lows, but for the first time in a long time, we actually look like a team.  Two wins from two, despite a new coach and rookie quarterback, but more than that, it’s been the attitude and swagger of the team.  Soemthing that’s been missing for a number of years, possibly since Namath.

“Sexy” Rexy Ryan and his Band of Lunatics have shut down a couple of good offences so far.  But, it’s no time to get carried away.  These are after all the Jets, so next Sunday, live on Sky, I fully expect them to suffer defeat!


On to other types of football, and one question.  Gary Neville, Fool or Tool?  Is there a more hated man in all of football than he.  He’s a cock of the first order.  After ManUre scored their late, late winner yesterday, he first ran on the pitch to celebrate (he was an unused sub), before running down to where the Man City fans were, to taunt them.  Suddenly he realised it possibly wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had (though being the only idea he’s ever had it probably was), and burst into a “I’m all innocent and warming up in case I get on” routine that fooled no one!  Cock!


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Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Sunday night rolls around.  I’ve just been out to the shop for some milk and chocolate, Mrs C tells me Arnie phoned.  Unusual for ‘el Presidente’ to call so late on an out of season Sunday.

I return the call and am rocked to my core.  Seems Skinny, holidaying in Turkey has died.  No details, just conjecture.  One of the team heard it form someone who heard it from someone.  Arnie has phoned the Australian Consulate in Istanbul and it’s been confirmed apparently.

Shocking news.  I’m not claiming to be big mates with Skinny, but I’ve known him since he came over to play for us, 3/4 years ago.  He was a superb team mate.  Cracking bat, one of the best keepers I’ve bowled to and always there with an encouraging word or a geeing up cry of “red hot”.

Our paths crossed less frequently this past couple of seasons as we tendedto be playing in differents sides now, and if I’m totally honest, I can’t remember the last thing I said to him, or the last time we spoke, and this bothers me in a way I wouldn’t have expected to.  Maybe that old cliche about living for the now, never leaving things unsaid etc comes into play.

Wherever you are Skindog, rest in peace, and may your God go with you.


As a club, we seem to have had more than our fair share of deaths over the last five years or so.  We lost our president at the time, and scorer extraordinaire Geoff out of the blue.  Not long after the legend that was Big Frank, admittedly not so unexpectedly, but he was the soul of the club.  Always on hand with a compliment, an encouraging word and his cheerful outlook.

Old Maurice followed the next year.  No one was really sure how old he was, but he’d been there at the Grange when Bradman had played there in 1948.  Maurice could was there every home game, always impeccably mannered and impeccably dressed.

More was to follow when Tris departed.  Not long out of university, he’d just started a job in the House of Commons.  We’d watched him come through as a junior, graduating to the senior ranks.  His leg spinners and batting improving each year.  His banter missed on the field.  Killed in a road accident in Japan.

Skinny becomes the latest of our casualties, taken far too early.

Gents, as ever, next season is for you.

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Born Yesterday???

So, they’ve been advertising this on TV lately.  It’s low calorie water.  Yes, that’s right.  Low. Calorie.  Water.  That would be water, you know, that liquid stuff, comes from a tap, contains NO flavouring, NO fat, NO calories….

Nothing like a bit of cynical marketing, it’s straight out of the “women will buy anything if we tell them it’s low fat” book of selling.  What’s next?  Every home needing extra taps for full fat, skimmed and semi skimmed water?


So England have made the World Cup.  Already the stories have circulated of how the players will only see the WAGS once a week, on the day after a game.  Isn’t that a little draconian?  Not to say very risky.  I mean, given how those footballers love a “roast”, and the rampancy of AIDS in South Africa, there’s a fair chance they’ll all come down with something nasty…please let it be John Terry first.

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