Burn Them!

Some grey clouds are hanging over Funk Pie towers this week following two events that have left me seething a little bit. Firstly, there was last night's debacle at Th'Emirates, secondly, the whole ridiculous Brand n' Ross story that has somehow been manipulated (by the Daily Wail) to the top of the headline pile this week.

I'm gonna cover the latter first. This has gone beyond being beyond a joke now, the Daily Wail has finally got its way. I'm really p*ssed off about the whole episode, not least because I've been a regular listener to Brand's show since he started up on BBC6 a few years ago. I realise he's not everyone's cup of tea and I'm not going to eulogise him here as I don't think that's the issue. The facts are that the BBC received just 2 complaints during the show. Two. Then, a week later, the Wail on Sunday filled their front page with the story, called up Matthew Hopkins and the witch hunt commenced. During the week, the headline read "Sack Them"; absolutely bonkers, we let politicians get away with dodgy chats with Russian oligarchs, allow petrol companies to hike up prices whilst oil prices fall and their profits soar, unemployment is increasing, money is scarce, but this, in the opinion of that ridiculous newspaper/agitprop, is the main issue bothering the country this week. Media diversion from a staunchly Tory paper? Ooh, would they?

In a way you could see the whole incident coming, the week before the phone call to Sachs was made, Brand had mentioned/bragged on his show that he'd had all the Satanic Sluts (including Sach's grand-daughter) round his house for a good ol' hot tub party.Furthermore, he's had a few run ins with said paper over stuff written about him in the past.

The broadcast has just evolved into a great big stick to beat brand n'Ross with. Who are these people who are complaining? Have they heard the show before? There's been far worse and arguably more offensive material on there. No doubt the kind of folk who made these complaints would just love to see good clean entertainment from a fluffy world gone by with no swearing, rude gags or any suggestion of controversial subject matter. I'm sure plenty of folk would be offended by late night radio if they chose to listen to it. All this was broadcast post-watershed and is being treated as if it went out during kiddies hour or something, Ridiculous. Sachs has had his apology and his grand-daughter has a few quid in her pocket. Comments from Joe Public on the super-dramatic Sky News site are along the lines of "Ooh, i don't like Ross or Brand - good riddance", "Poor man (Sachs), they should be locked up", "Give me back my licence fee, I say!" , "Has anyone seen my dentures?". We'll probably now be forced to watch re-runs of the Rivers of Blood speech or something with Angela Rippon (not that I'm connected the two).

Ok, over to North London and trying the figure out what the eff happened last night. The whole evening had an aire of inevitability about it; my good friend Rich had texted me at the weekend to say "Can't believe the twitcher has gone to the lane. They'll f*cking beat us on Wednesday. B*stards". Andy Gray had "a feeling", Spudz tails were high and once again, Arsenal proved that their underbelly is softer than Walter the Softie's soft rug collection.

Bentley's goal could've been saved by Almunia, the others we conceded all came about as Arsenal's defence decided to back track and invite the scum shoot from distance, leaving us ruing throwing away 2 points from such a lofty position of superiority, it beggars belief how we didn't win. Grrrrrrrrrr, can't write anymore on this, onto Stoke this Saturday, it's a good job we're so good at coping with high balls over the top, ain't it?

"Tally-ho, yippety-dip, and zing zang spillip"

Been having a skype discussion with Auckland boob, Neil, about which celebs you'd take on an alldayer on the Kings Road (one pub only); this was one of Neil's ideas and will possibly the subject of a future podcast (which we will get around to doing eventually). Anyhoo, I despise the whole celeb worship thing, especially the ridiculous amount of drivel that's on the magazine shelves, you know - Chat, Quick, Vadge, Celebrity Armpit Watch, etc. why don't shops put copies of The Economist by the counter? "'Cos it's sh*t" - UK Public. We're becoming (or have become) a nation of dimwits whilst this rubbish is being read.

So, back to my celeb choices. Neil gave me a limit of 5, so here they are: Howard Marks, Samuel L Jackson, Johnny Depp, Mark Thomas and Lenny Henry. What do you think? Neil was apoplectic over my choice of Lenny for some reason; I think he'd be great, you could give him a big cuddle later on, and after a few drinks he'd be sure to dig out some classics, a huge 3 minute "ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooookkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk" perhaps, or a brilliant David Bellamy or Trevor McDonald impression. It's a tricky choice picking a quintet of celeb pals, but should the highly unlikely scenario ever arise, I'd want to be sitting next to the (other) comedian from glorious Dudley.

Great win in a crazy match for Arsenal last night. Am doubly pleased as my good buddy Nathan was one of the 800 gooners in attendance, bless 'im. He asked his girlfriend (and baby) if they fancied going for a quick midweek jaunt to Istanbul, nice that the trip coincided with the game, eh Nath? Yet another European adventure; I will get round to publishing Kristian's Euro football tales soon (honest).

If any of you visited bath over the 'summer', you'd have seen loads of painted pigs around the city for a highly popular art project. They were all taken away at the end of September and displayed for the public one last time in front of the Royal Crescent last Sunday. Good idea, but the organisers completely @rsed things up by putting the pigs in a circular pen no bigger than a regulation centre circle, whilst hundreds of folk tried to catch a peek (for a couple of seconds, before a herd of 20 stone tourists barged you out of the way). There were rumblings of revolution and the Bath Chronicle's website comments section was filled with chagrin and disgust from visitors to the display, some claiming that their days had been ruined, others started by the length of the hot dogs on sale (very suspicious)...

Can spurs go down? This is a question that perhaps is gaining veracity as the months go by. In statistical terms, only one club in Premier League history has avoided relegation after taking two or fewer points from their first eight matches: Southampton in the 1998-99 season. It would be effin' typical is the Spudz came good next week in the North London derby, wouldn't it? I've regularly been texting Tottnumb supporting mates about their plight, I just hope karma doesn't bite me in the ass and give them a victory in the derby. Anyhoo, here is the latest Tottenham gag, mirth fans:

A man is sitting in a pub with his Jack Russell dog one Saturday afternoon. The football results are coming up on the television in the corner, "Stoke City 2, Tottenham Hotspur 1," reads the announcer in his normal, rather sedate, voice.

Suddenly the Jack Russell dog jumps up and shouts out, "Oh, no, not again."

The shocked landlord says, "That's amazing. Why did he say that when the result was announced that Tottenham lost?"

"Because he's a Spurs supporter," the dog's owner replies.

The landlord then asked what the dog says when Tottenham win a match, to which the man replied, "I don't know. I've only had him three months."

One man went to bed...

A bit footbally, this post, I won't bore you with how I spent all weekend on my knees in the bathroom sorting the floor out, or how on completing my work, got drunk in record time. Two subjects; Ashley Cole and a bit on the US election...


So Ashley Cole got booed during the England game, poor ol' Cashley, he's had such a hard time lately hasn't he? Listening to Alan effin' Green on 6-0-6 last Saturday really made my blood heat up slightly; he's so eager to preach how booing your own players is completely wrong and why England fans should always encourage the team, etc, etc. As a famous scouser once said, "My @rse!", Cole exemplifies everything that is wrong with the modern footballer and most
supporters have probably been waiting to boo him for quite some time. I used to love him when he was at Arsenal (he was a product of the youth system, after all, these players are often more revered that new signings), the goal he scored against Dynamo Kiev at Highbury in the Champions League in November 2003 was my favourite from that (unbeaten)season, it was the last minute, we were going out of the competition, then up popped Ashley with a diving header across the keeper (the next match was Inter away and that famous 5-1 victory). I was watching the match with Rich in the Saracens Head and leapt forward 5 feet going absolutely mental, I remember just hugging and jumping a complete stranger shouting into his ear "it's brilliant! it's absolutely f&*king brilliant!", before biting my nails for the last couple of minutes.


A year and a bit after this, on January 27th 2005, Cole was spotted in a London hotel sharing tea and cake with his agent Jonathan Barnett, Jose Mourinho, Pini Zahavi and that slimy cretin, Kenyon. A meeting that had taken place as a result of (Cole claimed) Arsenal reneging on a (verbal) promise of a £60k a week contract; I'm sure you're all aware of poor Ashley nearly swerving off the road when his agent told him that Arsenal were only offering £55k a week (over £2.6m a year). Sorry Ashley, but that's just soooo the wrong way to go about things. I'd play for Arsenal for nowt, 2 onions a week, a year's subscription to Woman's Own, anything. I'd even wrestle Bella Emburg in offal for a chance to turn out for my team. However, I digress, Cole obviously saw the super truck full of Russian cash and wanted a piece of it, whatever it took. Cole had come close to being sold by Arsenal to Crystal Palace a few years before after a
successful loan spell there, but Sylvinho's well-documented passport problems put an end to that, allowing Cole to flourish in Arsenal's first team. What's unbelievable is that he was allowed to play for Arsenal again after this meeting, for another season!!


So, returning to the beginning of my rant, if anyone else had made the error against the Kazakhs (with the possible exception of Frank Lampard), it's likely that there would have been no booing, lots of initial swearing perhaps, but the error would probably have merely been an afterthought, it was a pretty meaningless goal in the end. Maybe fans had been waiting for an opportunity to boo Cole, perhaps they sympathise with his wife, or even Mike Riley, or maybe it's because Cole should not be chipping a pass across his defenders blindly at International level (he's very fortunate that there is such a lack of competition for his position). Paying punters are continually told to sit down and shut up by increasingly fascist stewards, they don't need to be told off by commentators who pay nothing to get into the game in the first place. When folk pay good money to go to a match they have every right to criticize, as well as eulogise, and there isn't a player representing England that arguably deserves it more that Cashley. The hyperbolic reaction of the media reaffirms this, as Cole's error has taken up nearly as many column inches as the England goals.


Meanwhile, there are some crazy soundbites coming out of America as the election nears. The Republicans are trying to dig up and scatter Senator Obama's links to the 60s radical William Ayers; Lori Raynor, a biochemist (!) said "I'm scared of Obama - from what I have read and his associations which are questionable, his so-called terrorist associations, and even his church," "I just don't think he can run this country." She added: "Some of my friends have even told me they think he is the anti-Christ." Well, let me tell you Lori Raynor, I'm a bit blimmin' scared of you, love! The religious right sure are a scary bunch. The above quote could be compared with the medieval belief that men with dogs for heads wandered the forests at night, it's that ridiculous (boy, will I feel stupid if Obama really is the Devil) If Obama is the Antichrist, well John McCain is erm, Gripper Stepson and Sarah Palin is definitely Zuul from Ghostbusters...

Exit Liiiight, Enter Niiiight

Dreams, eh? Those funny little head movies that you can't control and vaguely remember. Anyhoo, I rarely recall my dreams, but last night's stuck in my bonce and I thought I'd share it with you as some of my (limited) readership were stars of last night's phrenological presentation

Dan Brown (my friend, not the author), Neil and I were in a town somewhere (probably meant to be Bath, although I think it was by the sea), just walking around, enjoying the day. I believe we were going to have lunch somewhere. Anyhoo, we were meandering around the streets (we were the only people about, very '28 Days Later') and came upon a group of thuggish looking skinheads standing on a street corner. As I recall, there were three of them, bomber jackets, bovver boots, the lot. Think Boo Perkins and his two brothers and you'd be close. Dan started talking to them for some reason (surely it can't have been to chat them up?) whilst Neil I walked ahead, suddenly Dan came bolting after us hollering “run”, as one of the aforementioned skinheads tried to catch up with him. I tried to sprint away but got a case of the ol’ porridge feet and couldn’t run for toffee (rather, mimicked running through toffee).

Eventually, I somehow got away ( I really don't know how, my running style was as effective as Stephen Hawking on gravel track) we all got split up and somehow found a safe haven. Our refuge was a random house with a nice big lounge (which resembled our Lorne Road student house (but without the Ginsters wrappers, Gareth's bad videos and dinner plates covered with old meat and B & H butts). As if by magic, Jake appeared, as did Neil and we went off for another (herby) walk through a different sunny town (which resembled Torquay) until we came across a big grass bank containing more chums, live music and jugglers. At this point, things become a bit hazy, all I can recall is that Nick Earl was there, lying on a picnic blanket, as was Nathan's sister, Abbe , Mark Linggood and Nicholas Cage (who is a Bath resident and seen by Mr J Stone last Sunday).

As for Mr Brown, who knows what fate befell him? If I was a betting man (which the next paragraph would seem to indicate), I'd say that the skinheads probably caught up with him and gave him a damn good thrashing. But the pacifist side of me hopes that he convinced those skinheads that violence wasn't the answer and they are had tea and scones together.

So there you go, nothing too exciting really, just something to write. Back on planet reality, poker on Saturday was pretty good, I came away with £30, which meant a paltry £10 profit, mustn't grumble I s'pose. I probably should have had more, being the only sober player an' all. Won't be doing that again, jeez, it was like watching some folk melt in front of you, one minute Gaffer was playing cards, the next he was playing along to 'I Just Called to Say 'I Love You'' on the keyboard. I love you and you are a wonderful host, Gaffer, but I don't like David Essex, his presence on the stereo was slightly harrowing for me, and I can't understand your fascination with the man. Furthermore, you didn't manage to answer Dave and I's questions, them being, 'Does he come from Essex?' and 'Does he really live on a boat?'...

Poor result for The Arsenal on the weekend really, but events at the Lane continue to amuse...

You could start by not calling me 'Bladder', sir

Got a much needed weekend at home coming up, lots of DIY to do as always, but am also playing poker on Saturday round at Gaffer's house in Devizes, crazy name, crazy place. I've never manged to come home from poker with more than £20 in my pocket, there's £120 up for grabs tomorrow, so I'm hoping to beat my record and have enough cash for a celebratory slap up binge at Mrs Miggins' Pie Shop on Sunday.

Good week of Champions League football, nice to see Arsenal bounce back, although the defence still looked pretty dodgy early on in the match, especially from corners, which the press have identified as our new achilles heel. I'd expect to see ol' mekon head Silvestre make his debut pretty soon, maybe even against the makems tomorrow. Pity Drogba's injury wasn't more serious, he always seems to raise his game when we play Chelsea (which we do on November 30th), still, good to see Transylvania's top club prove that Chelsea lack bite, arf arf.

My friend Dom gets married on Saturday in Daytona Beach, Florida. A few Steeple folk have made the pilgrimage out to Miami, no doubt Mr Brown has purchased a spangly vest, some 1980's shorts and a pair of roller skates for the occasion. Not that he's going or anything, think he just likes the look (I jest). Best of luck mate, hope you and the missus have a cracking day and good luck with the Crocodile huntin'.

Did anyone read Joe Kinnear's press conference from yesterday? it's hilarious, first line of it goes something like this:

JK: "Who's Mr X? (Daily Mirror's north East Correspondent)

Journo:"Me"

JK "You're a c*nt"

It went on like that, you can read a virtually complete transcript on the Guardian's website here. It's well worth it, good on you Joe, the press need ranting at occasionally. It's been a few years since his last pre-game press conference so I can understand the build up of tension inside him. Poor old fella, he was apparently 18th choice for the 'interim manager' position and got a load of grief from day one. Kinnear also lives next door to Arsene Wenger, fact fans.

There's an exciting new show by JJ Abrahams (writer of Lost)starting on Sunday on Sky 1 called Fringe about a plane that lands on autopilot with all the passengers and crew already dead. Also, next weekend there is an event involving Matt Willmott and Rich Ashby being lost and unconscious in a camper van, this drama will be called Ginge...

Enjoy your weekends