Top 5 Blog Posts In June

It’s the end of another month and lazy blog post time again! This will probably work better if you play the guitar riff from “Whole Lotta Love” in your head.

I’ll start you off: “Da-na-na-na-na-chugga-chug-chugga-chug. Da-na-na-na-na-chugga-chug-chugga-chug.”

1. What Sir Patrick Stewart Should’ve Said To James Corden At The Glamour Awards

2. Oh No! It’s An All Time Top 5! Part 5

3. The Daily Express Has Got Confused

4. Tatooine – It’s a Bit Chavvy

5. An Open Letter To Kenneth Branagh And Marvel Studios

England – “As Shit As The Sugababes”

Every four years, English football fans have a sense of entitlement because – y’know – we won it in 1966.

But look very closely at the two photographs above.

Evidence that – like the Sugababes’ management – the FA have been quietly replacing the original line up of the award winning English national side with younger, prettier but ultimately less talented members.

In fact, I’d go as far as to say that you can’t call them the same team any more. Have the current squad done anything as good as “Back Home” or “World Cup Willie”?

Geoff Hurst should sue for rights to the name “England” and we should start calling them something else.

I recommend “Dude-A-Tronic”. I’d watch a team called Dude-A-Tronic.

I Am Jack’s Impotent Rage

This is what Goodfellas call a “Pepperoni Madness” pizza:

I presume the Goodfellas marketing meeting went like this:

“We’ll call it Pepperoni Madness but we’ll put very little pepperoni on it.”

“Call it Pepperoni Madness but put very little pepperoni on it? But that’s madne… Oh. Very good. More champagne!”

This pizza is a metaphor. I’m not sure what for, but definitely a metaphor. Or an allegory.

Remember kids. Life is a series of minor setbacks soundtracked by a low level background hum of disappointment.  

I’m sorry. I just really like pepperoni.

The Daily Express Has Got Confused

I know spending your days full of impotent rage must be tiring and you must forget what you’re doing sometimes.

But It’s FOREIGN PEOPLE who have come to THIS COUNTRY you don’t like.

Not the other way around.

Also, does it look like someone’s let too much air out of John Terry?

In Praise of Football

Even though I am a fully paid up speccy wheezy geek who was always picked last at games, I have a soft spot for football. Blame it on my father, who was an amateur goalkeeper through most of my childhood.

Not for me the instant gratification of American sports like basketball, nor the interminable games of cricket. Football’s the one for me. So please allow me this self-indulgent post as I waffle about the Beautiful Game.

A game where, last night, the French played with a sense of disinterested ennui as only the French can. What they really needed was a rain splattered window set up in the technical area that they could go and stare listlessly out of while smoking a Gauloise.

The match should’ve been filmed in black and white with Jacques Brel played instead of vuvuezelas. (If you’re not aware of vuvuzelas, they are an African footballing tradition, much like casual violence was on British terraces in the 80s)

For, when it is at its best, and I’m feeling a bit drunk and wanky, it transcends sport and becomes poetry. I offer you these examples.

Here’s Pele against Uruguay in the 1970 World Cup:

It contains everything I admire. Intelligence, beauty and heroic failure. He doesn’t even bloody score and it’s one of the best things I have ever seen.

How about Paul Gascoigne in Euro 96?

If I remember rightly – please correct me if I’m wrong – Gazza’s drinking was becoming more and more of a problem and he and others in the squad were being vilified in the press by their off-field antics. Yet, with two kicks of the ball, redemption.

And finally, Gordon Banks’s save against Pele in – again – the 1970 World Cup.

Goalkeepers are generally regarded as the drummers of the sporting world, but here Banks is Lennon, Mercury and Springsteen rolled into one. My father is still convinced that Banks broke the laws of physics to clear that ball.

He’s not a goalkeeper. HE’S A FUCKING JEDI.

Thanks for letting me get that out of my system.

Zombie Fact #8: Zombies Love Social Media

Even after the Zombie Apocalypse, the Undead will still be pissing around on Twitter:

Remember, zombies are very good at 20 Questions

This shambles was inspired by @WoodlandBear who also does the rather charming We Write Lists blog.

Cool Stuff

You like cool stuff, don’t you? That’s why you come back here, on the off chance you might see some, in what can only be described as a magnificent example of hope over experience.

With that in mind, would you like to see something that is utterly charming yet – at the same time – completely sinister?

Of course you would. I know my audience:

Wook at da ickle man wiv da machete and disembodied head!

It’s over at My String Dolls. Have a look. There’s loads of them. All with varying levels of cute/terror but a consistent level of awesome.

Apparently, they’re based on a traditional Thai toy. So I’m buying this one to educate my children about both Eastern culture and how you should never EVER mess with someone with the surname Voorhees.

 If I’d make one suggestion, I could see a market for zombie dolls. How about it?

It seems that this would be the only way I could form my Army of Darkness.

I Think I’ve Found Why It’s Hard To Say Anything On Twitter At The Moment

An Open Letter To Kenneth Branagh and Marvel Studios

Dear Ken, Stan and everyone at Marvel Studios

As I enjoyed the ‘Iron Man’ films (or is it ‘Iron Men’ films? I’m unsure of superhero grammar), I am very excited at the prospect of the upcoming ‘Thor’ movie. So I have today been reading the film’s page on the IMDb website.

Imagine my disappointment to discover that Brian Blessed does not seem to feature in the cast list. I can only assume that this is an oversight by the webmasters at IMDb, but if this is not the case I would be grateful if someone could get on the phone to Mr Blessed and sort this out.


Admittedly, he’s getting on a bit so I’m not entirely sure he should be as greased up as he is in this photo, but Valhalla would seem empty without the Blessed-meister stomping around having a bit of a bellow.

May I suggest a scene for the film? You could write in a scene where it’s Karaoke night in the House of the Gods and Thor sings a Pearl Jam song. At the end, Mr Blessed could say this:


I didn’t say it was a good suggestion.

I look forward to your reply and my screenwriter’s credit.



Tatooine: It’s a Bit Chavvy