Wade v Anderson. Wade suffered a proper stuffing at the hands of the Power last week and is propping up the table. Anderson has lost his last 3, but in fairness, he was playing the 3 big guns. This was 8-3 to Anderson in the first encounter - think it'll be tighter this time around. 8-5 Anderson.
Whitlock v Jenkins. Commanding display from Whitlock last week over Webster, while the Bull got a share of the spoils against Lewis (tempting fate did the trick, but how do I make some dough out of it). I like Jenkins, as he reminds me of darts of yesteryear... a simpler time. This'll be a tight one but I expect the Aussie to edge it, 8-6.
Taylor v Barney. Don't get much better than this. The Power has 6 victories on the trot; Barney has won his last 3. The first outing between these two ended 8-3 to Taylor so he's got the psychological edge (although confidence has never been his problem). Think they'll give the darting aficionados what they want, and go down to the wire, 8-6 Taylor.
Lewis v Webster. Jackpot's still a bit too in and out, highlighted by that draw last week. Webster hasn't won in 3 and is sitting second from bottom. He's throwing on home turf and won the first meeting 8-3, but I fancy Jackpot to turn the tables on him this time. Lewis thrives on the stick he gets from a partisan crowd, a la Glasgow, so I think he'll take this 8-4.
A little bit of trivia
The nine-dart finish is the holy grail of the game and to produce it on the telly makes it even more special. In the modern era it is being achieved with more regularity, with Taylor doing it at times with what seems to be relative ease. However, there was a time when the darting world held its breath in anticipation of the first one.
13th of October, 1984. MFI World Matchplay - John Lowe v Keith Deller.
On that Saturday afternoon, something very special was achieved by one of the all time greats of the game - John Lowe. I remember watching the whole thing unfold on ITV, thinking, "no, surely he isn't going to pull it off." As the final dart went into double-18, there was what seemed to be a split second of disbelief, before the arena erupted like a volcano. For me, it's right up there with some of the best sporting moments I've ever seen.
He went on to win the tournament as well, but the victory was totally eclipsed by the nine-darter. The significance of what he had pulled off was highlighted by the cheque he picked up - 102,000 GBP. A staggering amout of money when you compare it with the winner's cheque which was about 15 grand.
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Sunday 27 March 2011
A Premier Leagueless Weekend
Since I've been over here I probably follow the Premiership more than I did before. The reason for that is simple - you just don't have the chance to discuss it as often, so you spend more time checking the internet for the latest news. The majority of weekend mornings from August to May are spent glued to Fox Sports and/or ESPN (the wife having signed a Premier League non-interference clause some time ago). Because of the time difference the drill is very simple - wake up, have a scratch, take a slash; mug of tea, smoke a ciggie; back to bed, have a scratch, switch on the footy... piece of piss. But what happens when there is no Premier League?
To make sense of this situation one has to examine the main factor - the time difference. Back home, the drill was completely different. No Saturday or Sunday was complete without first hitting the local before kickoff, getting the first pint down whilst perusing the fixed odds, and then heading over to the bookies before finally setting your ass on a stool to follow the next few hours entertainment with the mates. In other words, I had the morning time to work out and prepare how my afternoon was going to pan out, football or not.
Now when the Premiership schedule is interrupted I just become confused, incapable of rational thought, and unable to answer simple questions like: When do I get out of bed? What's the best time to have that first mug of tea and a smoke? Have I scratched or not? It's disorientating.
Regardless of this, the most important thing to remember is that the wife has a good idea what's going on. She knows that you can't use the Premier League to get out of doing stuff - making the breakfast, going for an early shop, or helping out with the laundry - so you gotta box clever. Here are a few tried and tested Plan B's:
Just watch any football that may be on the telly - it happened to be Brazil v Scotland this morning. It can be hard to feign interest (are you listening Scotland) but it will buy you an extra couple of hours in your kip.
In the absence of any type of football, watch some other type of sport. This is perhaps the most difficult ruse to pull off due to the shit that is normally shown in the morning time, but if you're a professional lazy bastard, like myself, you can persevere. Remember - whatever it is you're watching, you've gotta look very interested, otherwise your beloved will expose you for the charlatan you are.
If you find the above suggestion impossible, you can always blame the tv listings. To carry this one off you need to be able to maintain a serious (and perplexed) expression whilst saying, "It said on the schedule that the (imaginary) match would be starting at 9am. Ah well, maybe it's actually starting an hour later." Don't get greedy if you decide to use this one, as an idle hour in bed is better than the missus finding out that you'd tell a barefaced lie just to stay in bed all morning.
The last method is intoxication. Get really steamed the night before and remain in a coma until late the next day. This is not without its problems but at least it gets you out of doing anything remotely constructive the next morning.
To make sense of this situation one has to examine the main factor - the time difference. Back home, the drill was completely different. No Saturday or Sunday was complete without first hitting the local before kickoff, getting the first pint down whilst perusing the fixed odds, and then heading over to the bookies before finally setting your ass on a stool to follow the next few hours entertainment with the mates. In other words, I had the morning time to work out and prepare how my afternoon was going to pan out, football or not.
Now when the Premiership schedule is interrupted I just become confused, incapable of rational thought, and unable to answer simple questions like: When do I get out of bed? What's the best time to have that first mug of tea and a smoke? Have I scratched or not? It's disorientating.
Regardless of this, the most important thing to remember is that the wife has a good idea what's going on. She knows that you can't use the Premier League to get out of doing stuff - making the breakfast, going for an early shop, or helping out with the laundry - so you gotta box clever. Here are a few tried and tested Plan B's:
Just watch any football that may be on the telly - it happened to be Brazil v Scotland this morning. It can be hard to feign interest (are you listening Scotland) but it will buy you an extra couple of hours in your kip.
In the absence of any type of football, watch some other type of sport. This is perhaps the most difficult ruse to pull off due to the shit that is normally shown in the morning time, but if you're a professional lazy bastard, like myself, you can persevere. Remember - whatever it is you're watching, you've gotta look very interested, otherwise your beloved will expose you for the charlatan you are.
If you find the above suggestion impossible, you can always blame the tv listings. To carry this one off you need to be able to maintain a serious (and perplexed) expression whilst saying, "It said on the schedule that the (imaginary) match would be starting at 9am. Ah well, maybe it's actually starting an hour later." Don't get greedy if you decide to use this one, as an idle hour in bed is better than the missus finding out that you'd tell a barefaced lie just to stay in bed all morning.
The last method is intoxication. Get really steamed the night before and remain in a coma until late the next day. This is not without its problems but at least it gets you out of doing anything remotely constructive the next morning.
Wednesday 23 March 2011
Premier League Darts (Wk 7)
Webster v Whitlock. Both players are struggling to find consistent form, and both had almost identical averages, 96 odd, last week. With the bottom 4 players all on 4 points, this is a good chance for one these two to make a move. Tight one to call but I fancy Whitlock to take it 8-6.
Lewis v Jenkins. Lovely stuff from Jackpot last week in Glasgow - 8 legs on the bounce against Anderson, although the averages suggest it was a tighter affair. Even though the Bull lost to Wade last week, he showed that he's still up for a fight. For me, Lewis can be his own worst enemy against a player like Jenkins. The bookies have Jackpot at 1/3, but I think it'll be tighter than that, 8-5 Lewis.
Barney v Anderson. This one should be a belter and you'd expect more than the fare share of maximums. Barney's been comfortable in his last two outings; Anderson took a beating on home turf last week - momentum's with the Dutchman, 8-6.
Taylor v Wade. Didn't see any of it, but I read that the Power put in a pretty decent shift last weekend in Holland, posting a world record average, 113.6, in a televised PDC final. Wade won his second match in 6 last week against Jenkins but he ain't got the ammo to pull off a shock, 8-2 Taylor.
For those who believe in tempting fate... I haven't predo'd a draw this week. My fascination with the draw stems from the opening week of the 2007 league. As usual, I decided to have a bit of a punt, and just to make things interesting I put Taylor v Scholten in for a draw on my yankee... paid almost 300 quid! They don't come round too often, so enjoy them when you can.
Lewis v Jenkins. Lovely stuff from Jackpot last week in Glasgow - 8 legs on the bounce against Anderson, although the averages suggest it was a tighter affair. Even though the Bull lost to Wade last week, he showed that he's still up for a fight. For me, Lewis can be his own worst enemy against a player like Jenkins. The bookies have Jackpot at 1/3, but I think it'll be tighter than that, 8-5 Lewis.
Barney v Anderson. This one should be a belter and you'd expect more than the fare share of maximums. Barney's been comfortable in his last two outings; Anderson took a beating on home turf last week - momentum's with the Dutchman, 8-6.
Taylor v Wade. Didn't see any of it, but I read that the Power put in a pretty decent shift last weekend in Holland, posting a world record average, 113.6, in a televised PDC final. Wade won his second match in 6 last week against Jenkins but he ain't got the ammo to pull off a shock, 8-2 Taylor.
For those who believe in tempting fate... I haven't predo'd a draw this week. My fascination with the draw stems from the opening week of the 2007 league. As usual, I decided to have a bit of a punt, and just to make things interesting I put Taylor v Scholten in for a draw on my yankee... paid almost 300 quid! They don't come round too often, so enjoy them when you can.
Tuesday 22 March 2011
CSI my ASS
How many crime/detective/forensic based shows are on the telly at the moment - CSI this, Bones that, Law & Order the other - it's gone beyond a fucking joke. Why don't they just put them all together and produce one series, C.R.A.P.
Once upon a time, there was a proper police show on the tv - The Sweeney. The programme title comes from Sweeney Todd which is rhyming slang for Flying Squad, a specialist branch within London's police service.
The show came out in the mid 70's and focused on two detectives: Jack Regan and Geroge Carter. These blokes were proper hard villain catchers (especially Regan). Their clothes were dodgy, their Barnets even dodgier, but they always got their man (even if the tactics were as dodgy as the fashion). There was no shortage of car chases involving Ford Granadas, Cortinas, and the like - actually saw a Granada Mk1 in pretty good nick over here last week.
The highlight of the week, when I was a cub, was being allowed to stay up and watch The Sweeney. I'd meet up with my mates next day to walk to school, go through all the action in minute detail and, of course, belt out the the theme tune...
Once upon a time, there was a proper police show on the tv - The Sweeney. The programme title comes from Sweeney Todd which is rhyming slang for Flying Squad, a specialist branch within London's police service.
The show came out in the mid 70's and focused on two detectives: Jack Regan and Geroge Carter. These blokes were proper hard villain catchers (especially Regan). Their clothes were dodgy, their Barnets even dodgier, but they always got their man (even if the tactics were as dodgy as the fashion). There was no shortage of car chases involving Ford Granadas, Cortinas, and the like - actually saw a Granada Mk1 in pretty good nick over here last week.
The highlight of the week, when I was a cub, was being allowed to stay up and watch The Sweeney. I'd meet up with my mates next day to walk to school, go through all the action in minute detail and, of course, belt out the the theme tune...
Sunday 20 March 2011
Premier League Review (Wk 30)
"Lucky old United" was the text my Arsenal mad mate, Sean, sent me yesterday at noon. Having just spent the previous 90 odd minutes jumping up and down, fucking and damning at the tv, I had to concur. Only a classic poacheresque goal from Berba saved our blushes. Truth is, United have had one of their less impressive seasons, however, if that little bit of luck holds out the title's in the bag.
"Boring, boring Arsenal" is what we used to shout at our Gunner mates when I was a lad; now this couldn't be farther from the truth - you just don't know what you're going to get from them. Against WBA: two down, two all, and could have nicked it all 3 points at the end. I've got a lot of respect for Mr Wenger's talent spotting and shrewd business sense in the transfer market, but even the most loyal of fans have got to be asking where the next bit of silverware's coming from. Old Mother Hubbard's dog would have had a right old mug on him if he'd had to wait 6 years.
Chelsea getting back into their stride after beating City, 2-0 (whilst putting a bit more pressure on 'blue & white scarf' Mancini). Still, they haven't looked the same side since Butch Wilkins was shown the door. And what about Torres? I thought 50m sovs was a bit over the top for the lad, but you would've expected some return by now - perhaps there's a bit of Scouse voodoo at work?
Rather predictably, a lot of the other results were quite unpredictable - my predos for this weekend were, if anything, even more fucking embarrassing than last time out.
Spurs couldn't bag max points against the Hammers, even though they had 26 attempts on/off target. McCarthy's men pulled off a super win at Villa, and I wasn't expecting Stoke to put 4 past the Toon. Throw in the rest of the results, and the bottom half of the table is separated by an astonishing 6 points - tight as a gnat's chuff.
Finally. Whilst reading the BBC text commentary for the Sunderland v Pool game, one comment stated that Steve Bruce's face had turned puce after the controversial penalty decision. I had an idea that it must be some shade of red (you gotta get up early in the morning to fucking catch me out!) so I looked it up in the dictionary:
Puce - a colour varying from deep red to dark purplish-brown
Haven't seen the incident yet, but it must have been a bad 'un.
"Boring, boring Arsenal" is what we used to shout at our Gunner mates when I was a lad; now this couldn't be farther from the truth - you just don't know what you're going to get from them. Against WBA: two down, two all, and could have nicked it all 3 points at the end. I've got a lot of respect for Mr Wenger's talent spotting and shrewd business sense in the transfer market, but even the most loyal of fans have got to be asking where the next bit of silverware's coming from. Old Mother Hubbard's dog would have had a right old mug on him if he'd had to wait 6 years.
Chelsea getting back into their stride after beating City, 2-0 (whilst putting a bit more pressure on 'blue & white scarf' Mancini). Still, they haven't looked the same side since Butch Wilkins was shown the door. And what about Torres? I thought 50m sovs was a bit over the top for the lad, but you would've expected some return by now - perhaps there's a bit of Scouse voodoo at work?
Rather predictably, a lot of the other results were quite unpredictable - my predos for this weekend were, if anything, even more fucking embarrassing than last time out.
Spurs couldn't bag max points against the Hammers, even though they had 26 attempts on/off target. McCarthy's men pulled off a super win at Villa, and I wasn't expecting Stoke to put 4 past the Toon. Throw in the rest of the results, and the bottom half of the table is separated by an astonishing 6 points - tight as a gnat's chuff.
Finally. Whilst reading the BBC text commentary for the Sunderland v Pool game, one comment stated that Steve Bruce's face had turned puce after the controversial penalty decision. I had an idea that it must be some shade of red (you gotta get up early in the morning to fucking catch me out!) so I looked it up in the dictionary:
Puce - a colour varying from deep red to dark purplish-brown
Haven't seen the incident yet, but it must have been a bad 'un.
Saturday 19 March 2011
I find it irksome...
What is this chap trying to say by sporting this ensemble?
"I've got enough money to buy this, even though I don't really need it."
"That bird will think I'm the dog's knackers in this. I'm gonna have sex coming out of my ears before the night's over."
"I hope the weather doesn't turn inclement, otherwise I'll be forced to wear this like a normal person."
OR
"I'm a twat, and I don't know it."
The instructions for putting on such a garment are actually quite simple. Squeeze your head through the big hole at the top (not the even bigger one at the bottom as that'll only make you look silly) whilst simultaneously thrusting your arms through the two long dangly things (don't want to sound pedantic, but they're called sleeves) at either side. When not in use, the garment should be hung up, stored in a drawer, put in a laundry basket, or discarded on the floor.
Wednesday 16 March 2011
Premier League Darts (Wk 6)
The Premier League moves to Scotland tomorrow, and Barney's the man on form. He posted a 3rd round 123 average last weekend in Wigan - a world record average for a televised event. He's up against Webster who suffered defeat to Jenkins last week. The big man will have too much ammunition for an inconsistent Webster. 8-3 to Barney.
Don't know what's happened to Wade recently? Not the most flamboyant of players, but robot-like consistency has always been key to his success - severely lacking at the moment. You gotta fancy the Bull to take advantage especially after a good win over Webster last week. 8-5 to Jenkins.
I don't think the Taylor v Whitlock match will be too hard to call. The Power's getting back to his old form and had a good win against Anderson last week (actually got that predo correct - pity there was no dough on it). Whitlock, on the other hand, had a bit of a mare against Lewis. 8-3 Taylor.
The tastiest bout of the night will be Anderson v Lewis. The Scot has been the more consistent of the two in this competition but Lewis has won the last 7 encounters between them. There won't be too many in the crowd cheering on Jackpot but he's arrogant enough to make it work to his advantage. Too close to call... 7-7.
A little bit of trivia
The first World Darts Champo (BDO) took place in Nottingham in 1978. Sixteen players contested it, of which I remember the following: Eric Bristow; Nicky Virachkul; Alan Evans; Alan Glazier; Leighton Rees; Stefan Lord; John Lowe. I'm pretty sure that the majority of youngsters watching today would recognise any except the Crafty Cockney (who went out 1st round to some bloke from the States called Conrad Daniels).
My claim to fame was a signed picture of Alan Glazier. He played an exhibition night in our local British Legion (must have been 1980/81) and my old boy got to play a game against him. Par for the course, my dad came home in a shit state in the wee small hours. When I got up the next morning I was handed the signed picture, complete with curry stains from the takeout... it's the thought that counts. Anyway, I digress.
The World Final was the best of 21 legs, and was contested between Rees and Lowe (two of the great gentlemen of the game). Rees ran out the winner, 11-7, and picked up a cheque for 3 grand. How times have changed - Lewis pocketed 200,000 for winning this year's PDC tournament!
Don't know what's happened to Wade recently? Not the most flamboyant of players, but robot-like consistency has always been key to his success - severely lacking at the moment. You gotta fancy the Bull to take advantage especially after a good win over Webster last week. 8-5 to Jenkins.
I don't think the Taylor v Whitlock match will be too hard to call. The Power's getting back to his old form and had a good win against Anderson last week (actually got that predo correct - pity there was no dough on it). Whitlock, on the other hand, had a bit of a mare against Lewis. 8-3 Taylor.
The tastiest bout of the night will be Anderson v Lewis. The Scot has been the more consistent of the two in this competition but Lewis has won the last 7 encounters between them. There won't be too many in the crowd cheering on Jackpot but he's arrogant enough to make it work to his advantage. Too close to call... 7-7.
A little bit of trivia
The first World Darts Champo (BDO) took place in Nottingham in 1978. Sixteen players contested it, of which I remember the following: Eric Bristow; Nicky Virachkul; Alan Evans; Alan Glazier; Leighton Rees; Stefan Lord; John Lowe. I'm pretty sure that the majority of youngsters watching today would recognise any except the Crafty Cockney (who went out 1st round to some bloke from the States called Conrad Daniels).
My claim to fame was a signed picture of Alan Glazier. He played an exhibition night in our local British Legion (must have been 1980/81) and my old boy got to play a game against him. Par for the course, my dad came home in a shit state in the wee small hours. When I got up the next morning I was handed the signed picture, complete with curry stains from the takeout... it's the thought that counts. Anyway, I digress.
The World Final was the best of 21 legs, and was contested between Rees and Lowe (two of the great gentlemen of the game). Rees ran out the winner, 11-7, and picked up a cheque for 3 grand. How times have changed - Lewis pocketed 200,000 for winning this year's PDC tournament!
Cricket down the pub
Found this footage on my camera from the 2007 test series in Finn McCools (Sunday, breakfast time).
Nobby's occupying the crease, showing off an array of defensive strokes. Lee's bowling really slow-slow pace with a lemon (or something from the citrus family). The young lad (can't remember his name) is way too good to be playing at this level. I'm on camera as I'd likely been given out to a dodgy decision and stormed off in a huff.
Result: Match abandoned based on the TPC (Too Pissed to Continue) method.
Friday 11 March 2011
FA Cup 6th Round
Last week's predos were nothing short of an embarrassment, especially for a bloke who started punting on the footy when he was barely out of secondary school. No Premier action this weekend as it's the FA Cup 6th round.
The big tie is Man U v Arsenal, with both sides needing a lift. Fergie's men have lost their last two league games - the last time that happened was in March 2009 (1-4 Liverpool; 2-0 Fulham). Last Sunday's game against Liverpool was a hard 90 fucking minutes to endure, and the 3 goals they conceded were sloppy at best. The Gunners, though, have had a complete fucking nightmare in the last fortnight, as talk of the fabled quadruple turned out to be as premature as... the list of ejaculation similies is endless. They were beaten by a hungrier Birmingham side in the cup, and a reffing terrible decision left them with no chance in Spain. Psychologically, it's going to be very difficult for Wenger to lift the side, so I think United will win by the odd goal. However, I'm a little bit surprised that the bookies have Arsenal at 3/1.
Fancy the Hammers to get a draw at Stoke and go on to win the replay. If any manager in English football deserves a bit of luck, it must be poor Avram (I can be a sentimental old cunt at times). Birmingham's Carling Cup honeymoon has been shortlived and Prem survival is now top of the agenda - Bolton, 2-1. The final game is Man City v Reading. City haven't impressed in their last two outings - if Tevez isn't on form, the team doesn't perform. And what the fuck is up that Balotelli? - when his footballing career goes tits up he can always land a leading role in a soap opera. Reading haven't been beaten in their last 7 games so the potential for a shock is on the cards - I'll plump for a draw (more out of wishful thinking, and the bookies have it at 4/1).
The big tie is Man U v Arsenal, with both sides needing a lift. Fergie's men have lost their last two league games - the last time that happened was in March 2009 (1-4 Liverpool; 2-0 Fulham). Last Sunday's game against Liverpool was a hard 90 fucking minutes to endure, and the 3 goals they conceded were sloppy at best. The Gunners, though, have had a complete fucking nightmare in the last fortnight, as talk of the fabled quadruple turned out to be as premature as... the list of ejaculation similies is endless. They were beaten by a hungrier Birmingham side in the cup, and a reffing terrible decision left them with no chance in Spain. Psychologically, it's going to be very difficult for Wenger to lift the side, so I think United will win by the odd goal. However, I'm a little bit surprised that the bookies have Arsenal at 3/1.
Fancy the Hammers to get a draw at Stoke and go on to win the replay. If any manager in English football deserves a bit of luck, it must be poor Avram (I can be a sentimental old cunt at times). Birmingham's Carling Cup honeymoon has been shortlived and Prem survival is now top of the agenda - Bolton, 2-1. The final game is Man City v Reading. City haven't impressed in their last two outings - if Tevez isn't on form, the team doesn't perform. And what the fuck is up that Balotelli? - when his footballing career goes tits up he can always land a leading role in a soap opera. Reading haven't been beaten in their last 7 games so the potential for a shock is on the cards - I'll plump for a draw (more out of wishful thinking, and the bookies have it at 4/1).
CWC & XRAY Scanners
How much more can the English cricket fan take? Their offering of 225 seemed meagre at best - good to see Morgan chipping in - but it was still a defendable total. Bangladesh looked dead and buried at 169-8 (their supporters heading for the exits) but somehow they pulled off a cracking victory with an over to spare. The post mortem, like a stuck record, refers to bouncing back (according to Shakin Stevens, "Lovely stuff") but it's becoming increasingly difficult to take them seriously as a decent one day side.
One of the good things about being Irish is that our sporting expectation level (for the most part) isn't very high. A shit result is grumbled about for a while and then forgotten about, while an unexpected triumph (most recently against England) will be passed down through generations, maybe even a ballad or two composed. I fancied us to get a result against the Windies this morning, but unfortuantely it doesn't look like we'll emulate the heroic feats of 2007. Onwards to the Millennium stadium tomorrow to do battle with the Welsh.
At this stage in the competition it's very hard to pick a winner. This is also reflected in the odds the bookies (bet365) are offering: India 11/4; S Africa 4/1; Australia 9/2; Sri Lanka 5/1. For those that fancy an outside bet, England are 11/1.
Now for a complete change of theme. I watched a bit of the Bang-Eng game online this morning until the stream and constant ads started to fuck me off. However, I was intrigued by one ad for the... XRAY SCANNER (has Viz anything to do with this?). The ad makes this bold statement in Spanish:
Desviste a quien quieras. Ahora podrás ver bajo la ropa con tu celular.
Basically, if you are the proud owner of this device, you can find out what someone's wearing under their clothes. It must be the real deal because there's a picture showing a mobile phone being held up in front of a tasty young sort, and you can clearly see her underwear beneath her other clothes. The only drawback I can see is the act of getting a bird to stand still whilst you ogle her without her thinking you're the type of bloke who peers through bedroom windows, feverishly wanking himself off.
One of the good things about being Irish is that our sporting expectation level (for the most part) isn't very high. A shit result is grumbled about for a while and then forgotten about, while an unexpected triumph (most recently against England) will be passed down through generations, maybe even a ballad or two composed. I fancied us to get a result against the Windies this morning, but unfortuantely it doesn't look like we'll emulate the heroic feats of 2007. Onwards to the Millennium stadium tomorrow to do battle with the Welsh.
At this stage in the competition it's very hard to pick a winner. This is also reflected in the odds the bookies (bet365) are offering: India 11/4; S Africa 4/1; Australia 9/2; Sri Lanka 5/1. For those that fancy an outside bet, England are 11/1.
Now for a complete change of theme. I watched a bit of the Bang-Eng game online this morning until the stream and constant ads started to fuck me off. However, I was intrigued by one ad for the... XRAY SCANNER (has Viz anything to do with this?). The ad makes this bold statement in Spanish:
Desviste a quien quieras. Ahora podrás ver bajo la ropa con tu celular.
Basically, if you are the proud owner of this device, you can find out what someone's wearing under their clothes. It must be the real deal because there's a picture showing a mobile phone being held up in front of a tasty young sort, and you can clearly see her underwear beneath her other clothes. The only drawback I can see is the act of getting a bird to stand still whilst you ogle her without her thinking you're the type of bloke who peers through bedroom windows, feverishly wanking himself off.
Thursday 10 March 2011
Premier League Darts (Wk 5)
I never missed Thursday night's darts when I was back in the old country - half a dozen Guinness and bit of in-play betting... sweet. Unfortunately, over here, the old darts is taken about as seriously as a village idiot. ESPN and Fox provide an excellent football service but you've no chance of seeing coverage of the 'lesser' sports. Consequently, I have to put with some dodgy streaming in order to follow the darts on the laptop every Thursday afternoon (the Guinness is out of the fucking question at 14 bucks a tin).
The good thing for darts is the variety of nationalities in this year's competition: English, Scottish, Welsh, Dutch, and Australian. I have been trying to spread the gospel in South America but it has fallen on deaf ears. Played with a few locals a while back who insisted on standing about 10 feet from the board, hurling the dart like an RPG. The best bet is getting some expats involved - spoke about it a couple of years ago, but it came to nothing.
The big game this afternoon is Taylor v Anderson. The Scot is 4 for 4, so far, and hasn't really had a tough game. The Power lost his first match to Lewis but made easy work of the next three. I reckon Taylor will take this one 8-6 for the simple reason that Anderson has to lose one, sooner or later.
I fancy Whitlock v Lewis to throw up a few sparks. The Aussie has bounced back well after a shit start, whilst Lewis has gone in the opposite direction, beating Taylor and then losing the next three. Jackpot had a super World Championship but he isn't disciplined enough (at the moment) to consistently string results together. Hasn't been a draw thus far so I'm going for 7-7.
Wade plays Barney in what I think will be a battle of attrition. Both players have had dodgy starts, especially Wade, and neither can afford to lose (from the ministry of Stating the Bleeding Obvious). Barney to win ugly, 8-5.
Webster v Jenkins. The Welshman did well to bounce back against Lewis after being hammered by Anderson the week before. The Bull won his first outing against Barney but has completely lost his way since then. If he doesn't find a bit of form soon I think he'll end up being the league's whipping boy. Webster, 8-2.
The good thing for darts is the variety of nationalities in this year's competition: English, Scottish, Welsh, Dutch, and Australian. I have been trying to spread the gospel in South America but it has fallen on deaf ears. Played with a few locals a while back who insisted on standing about 10 feet from the board, hurling the dart like an RPG. The best bet is getting some expats involved - spoke about it a couple of years ago, but it came to nothing.
The big game this afternoon is Taylor v Anderson. The Scot is 4 for 4, so far, and hasn't really had a tough game. The Power lost his first match to Lewis but made easy work of the next three. I reckon Taylor will take this one 8-6 for the simple reason that Anderson has to lose one, sooner or later.
I fancy Whitlock v Lewis to throw up a few sparks. The Aussie has bounced back well after a shit start, whilst Lewis has gone in the opposite direction, beating Taylor and then losing the next three. Jackpot had a super World Championship but he isn't disciplined enough (at the moment) to consistently string results together. Hasn't been a draw thus far so I'm going for 7-7.
Wade plays Barney in what I think will be a battle of attrition. Both players have had dodgy starts, especially Wade, and neither can afford to lose (from the ministry of Stating the Bleeding Obvious). Barney to win ugly, 8-5.
Webster v Jenkins. The Welshman did well to bounce back against Lewis after being hammered by Anderson the week before. The Bull won his first outing against Barney but has completely lost his way since then. If he doesn't find a bit of form soon I think he'll end up being the league's whipping boy. Webster, 8-2.
Wednesday 9 March 2011
Good fucking music!
They've been playing a song by Rock Zombie, "Rock Motherfucker," on a local radio station for the past few weeks. Rock Zombie is not a group that I'd go out of my way to listen to but this particular song has seeped into my brain and I'm now humming it to myself on a regular basis. This in turn has got me thinking back to the early days of profanity ridden, socially unacceptable music lyrics.
I was only a nipper when the Sex Pistols burst onto the scene in the mid-70's. I had a mate, Spud, who was a year or two older than me, who had just bought The Great Rock & Roll Swindle (I have a recollection that he bought it from a dim-witted schoolmate for less than a quid). One day when his parents were out, he invited me round to listen to it - I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The song that I enjoyed the most was that catchy sea shanty "Friggin in the Riggin," and even though most of the lyrics went right over my head (*just had a childhood flashback) I loved to belt out the last line of the chorus - "there was fuck all else to do."
The Pistols paved the way for a wave of vinyl smut and controversy. Up next was the Dead Kennedys with the classic, "Too Drunk to Fuck," in 1981. Me and my mates listened eagerly to the Sunday chart rundown on Radio 1 to see if it had got into the top 40 - it made number 36. We all wondered how Tony Blackburn was going to introduce the song title, but he just casually referred to it as, "a song by the Dead Kennedys," and moved on to number 35. Later on in the week, we went down to the record store, Its Records, to see if they had it displayed - they always had the top 40 singles up on the wall. Sure enough, there it was occupying the 36 slot. The title of the song had been covered by a bit of red tape but you could still see the title through it - we thought this was just the best fucking thing ever. Their next release was the tamely entitled, "Nazi Punks Fuck Off!"
Around the same time, whilst the new romantics ponced around in leather trousers and pirate shirts, Anti-Nowhere League made an appearance, bringing profanity to a whole new level with, "So What!" This was the B-side to the cover version of Rlaph McTell's, "Streets of London" - contrast is an understatement. The law were under orders to confiscate any singles they could find but my old mate Spud (or possibly his older brother) managed to get his hands on a copy:
Well I've fucked a sheep
And I've fucked a goat
I've had my cock right down its throat
So what, so what
The Bard himself must have turned in his grave, but we played this so much that, 30 years later, I can still remember every word. The Metallica version isn't bad, but you wouldn't try to fob off a reproduction of the Mona Lisa as the real McCoy, would you?
By 1982 the novelty was starting to wear off - as lads in our early teens we were becoming harder and harder to shock. Peter and the Test Tube Babies offered some amusement for a while with their first album, Pissed and Proud. This included such gems as, "Elvis is Dead" (what a fat cunt he was), "Transvestite (is this some kind of joke, you're really a bloke), and "Keep Britain Untidy." After that, everybody jumped on the Iron Maiden bandwagon and a whole generation of little devil worshippers was born.
*Flashback
When we were about 10 or 11 we (our gang) thought that 'wanking a woman' meant having sex with her. There was a good climbing tree in our neighbourhood which we referred to as the, "wanking tree." Looking back now, I'm not sure how we thought we could successfully 'wank a woman' up a tree, and when the older lads heard us talking about going to the "wanking tree" they probably just jumped to the obvious conclusion. We even composed a little song, "Did he wank my woman last night?" which EMI failed to pick up. Ah well... their loss.
I was only a nipper when the Sex Pistols burst onto the scene in the mid-70's. I had a mate, Spud, who was a year or two older than me, who had just bought The Great Rock & Roll Swindle (I have a recollection that he bought it from a dim-witted schoolmate for less than a quid). One day when his parents were out, he invited me round to listen to it - I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The song that I enjoyed the most was that catchy sea shanty "Friggin in the Riggin," and even though most of the lyrics went right over my head (*just had a childhood flashback) I loved to belt out the last line of the chorus - "there was fuck all else to do."
The Pistols paved the way for a wave of vinyl smut and controversy. Up next was the Dead Kennedys with the classic, "Too Drunk to Fuck," in 1981. Me and my mates listened eagerly to the Sunday chart rundown on Radio 1 to see if it had got into the top 40 - it made number 36. We all wondered how Tony Blackburn was going to introduce the song title, but he just casually referred to it as, "a song by the Dead Kennedys," and moved on to number 35. Later on in the week, we went down to the record store, Its Records, to see if they had it displayed - they always had the top 40 singles up on the wall. Sure enough, there it was occupying the 36 slot. The title of the song had been covered by a bit of red tape but you could still see the title through it - we thought this was just the best fucking thing ever. Their next release was the tamely entitled, "Nazi Punks Fuck Off!"
Around the same time, whilst the new romantics ponced around in leather trousers and pirate shirts, Anti-Nowhere League made an appearance, bringing profanity to a whole new level with, "So What!" This was the B-side to the cover version of Rlaph McTell's, "Streets of London" - contrast is an understatement. The law were under orders to confiscate any singles they could find but my old mate Spud (or possibly his older brother) managed to get his hands on a copy:
Well I've fucked a sheep
And I've fucked a goat
I've had my cock right down its throat
So what, so what
The Bard himself must have turned in his grave, but we played this so much that, 30 years later, I can still remember every word. The Metallica version isn't bad, but you wouldn't try to fob off a reproduction of the Mona Lisa as the real McCoy, would you?
By 1982 the novelty was starting to wear off - as lads in our early teens we were becoming harder and harder to shock. Peter and the Test Tube Babies offered some amusement for a while with their first album, Pissed and Proud. This included such gems as, "Elvis is Dead" (what a fat cunt he was), "Transvestite (is this some kind of joke, you're really a bloke), and "Keep Britain Untidy." After that, everybody jumped on the Iron Maiden bandwagon and a whole generation of little devil worshippers was born.
*Flashback
When we were about 10 or 11 we (our gang) thought that 'wanking a woman' meant having sex with her. There was a good climbing tree in our neighbourhood which we referred to as the, "wanking tree." Looking back now, I'm not sure how we thought we could successfully 'wank a woman' up a tree, and when the older lads heard us talking about going to the "wanking tree" they probably just jumped to the obvious conclusion. We even composed a little song, "Did he wank my woman last night?" which EMI failed to pick up. Ah well... their loss.
Monday 7 March 2011
Wipe, or clean?
I went to the supermarket on Saturday with the missus - it's a detestable fucking chore but it's one of those sacrifices I have to make in order to watch the weekend football without incurring any GBH to the earhole. To be truthful, the whole experience is not without its merits as there's normally an ample amount of cleavage on show, so much more than you'd find in an Irish joint.
Anyway, the last item on the shopping list was bog roll. I'm really not that fussy when it comes down to it - I'll gladly wipe my arse with yesterday's newspaper if there is fuck all else available. The missus, on the other hand, is a tad more discerning. As she went through the entire inventory of, 2 ply, 3 ply, scented, unscented, I proposed an idea to break the monotony - what if you were allowed to actually test the product right there in the aisle? Just whip down your trunks and give your hole a good wipe before committing to the purchase.
Disregarding my wife's obvious disinterest in my new idea, I continued to babble on as we reached the checkout. As a young girl scanned our goods I asked the missus if there was a Spanish equivalent for the word wipe, as in, to wipe one's ass. She gave me a blank stare and replied that as far as she knew they only used the verb, to clean. One of the supermarket lads then came over to put the stuff in bags, and as I was giving him a hand I noticed that the wife and the young girl (now blushing) were having a chinwag and a good laugh. Turns out that she studies English at university and never knew that the verb, to wipe, could be used in that context. Just goes to prove, we really do learn something new every day.
Anyway, the last item on the shopping list was bog roll. I'm really not that fussy when it comes down to it - I'll gladly wipe my arse with yesterday's newspaper if there is fuck all else available. The missus, on the other hand, is a tad more discerning. As she went through the entire inventory of, 2 ply, 3 ply, scented, unscented, I proposed an idea to break the monotony - what if you were allowed to actually test the product right there in the aisle? Just whip down your trunks and give your hole a good wipe before committing to the purchase.
Disregarding my wife's obvious disinterest in my new idea, I continued to babble on as we reached the checkout. As a young girl scanned our goods I asked the missus if there was a Spanish equivalent for the word wipe, as in, to wipe one's ass. She gave me a blank stare and replied that as far as she knew they only used the verb, to clean. One of the supermarket lads then came over to put the stuff in bags, and as I was giving him a hand I noticed that the wife and the young girl (now blushing) were having a chinwag and a good laugh. Turns out that she studies English at university and never knew that the verb, to wipe, could be used in that context. Just goes to prove, we really do learn something new every day.
Friday 4 March 2011
Premier League (Wk 29)
Biggest game of the week is Man U away to the Scousers. King Kenny has helped get Liverpool back up the table, but I watched them against the Hammers last week and I thought it was much the same shit they'd been playing under Hodgson. I think United are capable of sneaking a win but I'll be happy with a point (in the hope that the Gunners don't take all 3 against Sunderland).
Bet of the day, for me, is Wolves at home to Spurs - 2 to 1. Mick's men are on a decent run of form, whilst Spurs last outing was a 3-1 defeat away to Blackpool. No Bale, no Van der Vaart... no chance?? The bookies, in the continued absence of Charlie Adam, have Blackpool at 9 to 1 at home Chelsea. It's the sort of bet that makes you think, "I want to put something on it, but I know I'll fucking regret it."
PREM PREDOS
Birmingham 2 WBA 0
Gunners 3 Sunderland 1
Bolton 1 Villa 1
Fulham 2 Blackburn 0
Toon 2 Everton 1
Hammers 2 Stoke 0
City 3 Wigan 0
Pool 1 United 2
Wolves 2 Spurs 1
Blackpool 1 Chelsea 1
Everton 2 Birmingham 1
The missus still mocks me for my dedication to Fantasy Football, but do I care, do I fuck! I can't make the pilgrimage to a good old fashioned bookies over here, the credit card company decided a long time ago that it wasn't a good idea I used their money to gamble online with, so it's all I have left to enhance my enjoyment/infuriation of the best league in the world. This weekend I've put Baines in as cap. The Toffees have two matches this gameweek and Baines is well overdue a prem goal (last one was in December).
And to finish. Just been reading the extract of Cantona's interview regarding the Selhusrt Park kick of '95. He said he did it for "the people." I don't often heap praise on the French, but... LEGEND!
Bet of the day, for me, is Wolves at home to Spurs - 2 to 1. Mick's men are on a decent run of form, whilst Spurs last outing was a 3-1 defeat away to Blackpool. No Bale, no Van der Vaart... no chance?? The bookies, in the continued absence of Charlie Adam, have Blackpool at 9 to 1 at home Chelsea. It's the sort of bet that makes you think, "I want to put something on it, but I know I'll fucking regret it."
PREM PREDOS
Birmingham 2 WBA 0
Gunners 3 Sunderland 1
Bolton 1 Villa 1
Fulham 2 Blackburn 0
Toon 2 Everton 1
Hammers 2 Stoke 0
City 3 Wigan 0
Pool 1 United 2
Wolves 2 Spurs 1
Blackpool 1 Chelsea 1
Everton 2 Birmingham 1
The missus still mocks me for my dedication to Fantasy Football, but do I care, do I fuck! I can't make the pilgrimage to a good old fashioned bookies over here, the credit card company decided a long time ago that it wasn't a good idea I used their money to gamble online with, so it's all I have left to enhance my enjoyment/infuriation of the best league in the world. This weekend I've put Baines in as cap. The Toffees have two matches this gameweek and Baines is well overdue a prem goal (last one was in December).
And to finish. Just been reading the extract of Cantona's interview regarding the Selhusrt Park kick of '95. He said he did it for "the people." I don't often heap praise on the French, but... LEGEND!
Thursday 3 March 2011
San Viernes
Snapped this gentleman taking a well-earned break one Friday morning last year when I was working in the little town of Gualaquiza in the south of Ecuador. I often saw the same gent lying in a variety of different poses, especially on Friday mornings. The untrained observer could be forgiven for thinking that the chap is in some form of distress, possibly requiring medical attention. However, the seasoned pro will be aware that too much sauce has been consumed, and a good kip by the gutter is just what the doctor ordered.
In Ecuador, San Viernes (Saint Friday) refers to the activity of getting shit-faced on a... Friday. Hence, this is the only saint that is celebrated 52 times a year (actually can't back up that fact as my knowledge of saints is piss poor at best). We too have an expression where I come from, The Monday Club - individuals, normally with dubious reputations and non-existent employment records who can afford to drink during the week when others are working:
- "Where does that cunt get the money to go out drinking in the afternoon and him never worked a day in his fuckin life?"
- "Oh, he's in the Monday Club."
Getting back to the photo. A couple of weeks after I took it I was myself involved in some drunken shenanigans and was asked to leave both my employ and the town. I suppose you could say that's a case of, "those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."
Wednesday 2 March 2011
What. A. Result
Cricket World Cup
What can you say about that result for Ireland today against England? Some online bookies gave away their opinions when, halfway through the game, they were offering 400-1 on an Irish victory! I like a punt and that, but I wouldn't have touched it with a barge pole.
England posted a first innings total of 327-8 which I honestly didn't think Ireland would get close to. At 111-5 the Irish looked dead and buried, and heading for an early bath. However, up stepped Kevin O'Brien who smacked 113 off 63 balls (his century coming off 50 balls - fastest in CWC history), the tail held it's nerve, and Ireland won by 3 wickets... stuff of legend!
The BBC's resident Yorkshire mouthpiece, Geoff Boycott, came out with a memorable (and a little offensive) quote close to the end of the game:
"If you leprechauns can't get over the line now, I don't know... My mum could win it from here."
Nice one Boycs. At least you didn't call us a bunch of fucking Paddys. Can't wait to hear his post mortem on the podcast.
What can you say about that result for Ireland today against England? Some online bookies gave away their opinions when, halfway through the game, they were offering 400-1 on an Irish victory! I like a punt and that, but I wouldn't have touched it with a barge pole.
England posted a first innings total of 327-8 which I honestly didn't think Ireland would get close to. At 111-5 the Irish looked dead and buried, and heading for an early bath. However, up stepped Kevin O'Brien who smacked 113 off 63 balls (his century coming off 50 balls - fastest in CWC history), the tail held it's nerve, and Ireland won by 3 wickets... stuff of legend!
The BBC's resident Yorkshire mouthpiece, Geoff Boycott, came out with a memorable (and a little offensive) quote close to the end of the game:
"If you leprechauns can't get over the line now, I don't know... My mum could win it from here."
Nice one Boycs. At least you didn't call us a bunch of fucking Paddys. Can't wait to hear his post mortem on the podcast.
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