I'm guilty of doing this a lot, I know, but let me take you back to a previous time. For this blog entry, let's try July, 1999.
It was before dinner one night when I walked into the lounge to find my older brother watching the TV intently. To my amazement, it wasn't Baywatch, Eurotrash or anything with female breasts in, but cycling. CYCLING?! BOR-ING, I thought to myself, and settled down on the couch with a magazine. But with the TV turned up loud and the commentator getting rather excited, I found I couldn't concentrate on reading, and soon I was watching along with my frere. And bloody hell, it WAS exciting! The sands of time have meant that names and teams have slipped out of my mind now, but what I can remember of that day was that it was a classic "flat stage" of the Tour de France - a rider was out in front of the main field, desperately trying to cling on and reach the finish line before the main pack caught up to him and swallowed him up. It was absolutely engrossing, and I loved it. The next night, I sat and watched the highlights through choice. I loved the drama of it all, I loved the fact the race was split into different components (best sprinter, best mountain rider etc) and I loved the countryside of France.
And because it was July, 1999, not only was I introduced to the greatest bike race on the planet, but I was introduced to a brash Texan who's name I'm sure you'll all know, whether you know the sport or not. Who's story I'm sure you'll all know, whether you know the sport or not. What you probably don't know however is how much impact Lance Armstrong had on my life. The 'Tour de Lance'? It was for me, and even though I fell in love with the race, I cannot pretend that I watched it as a neutral. From 1999 through to 2005, I felt like I cycled every step with him. The mere mention of Jan Ullrich's name made me flinch and hiss. I LOL'd at people who criticised him. I couldn't understand how people weren't rooting for him.
There's always been smoke around Lance Armstrong, but for him, his legal team and for staunch supporters like me, it was always easy to blow it away with a wave of the hand. Floyd Landis said something? He's a joke. Tyler Hamilton? Ditto. This French man has said this? He hates Armstrong. David Walsh has co-written a book packed full of rumour and suggestion? Well, he's just a prick anyway. A relatively unknown rider has said something? Oooh, who's Mr Jealous Cakes?! And so on and so forth. You casually dismiss each one, you discredit each one, you move on and hope that the noise subsides. But before you know it, the noise comes back, and it's gotten louder.
A few days ago the US television programme "60 Minutes" reported that George Hincapie, for so long a trusted ally of the Texan, is among three former team mates to testify - to a US federal grand jury, no less - that they saw Armstrong use performance enhancing drugs. It doesn't end there, either - is also believed that Hincapie confessed to supplying his team leader with EPO. With Landis or Hamilton or Andreu you can scoff, but not Big George. As the cycling presenter Ned Boulting tweeted:
"It does seem as if the tipping point was reached last night. The momentum all one way now, surely."
And Hincapie himself? He tweeted:
"I can confirm to you I never spoke with '60 Minutes'. I have no idea where they got their information. As I've said in the past, I continue to be disappointed that people are talking about the past in cycling instead of the future. As for the substance of anything in the '60 Minutes' story, I cannot comment on anything related to the ongoing investigation."
Sometimes, it's not what you say. It's what you don't say.
How do I feel? As someone biased, it would be really easy for me to change tack - start telling you how it doesn't matter, it's in the past, everyone else was at it, the end justified the means, look at his charity work etc. But I can't do that. I'm totally sickened by the whole thing - sickened that I was taken in, that I believed, that I held this man up as something he wasn't, that I proudly wore the wristband telling people to "Livestrong". How the fuck does injecting yourself with shit constitute as living strong, Lance? At this moment in time, there's been no confession - only more denials - and no solid evidence, but Ned Boulting is right, I fear. There's always been smoke, but now we're walking round the corner and seeing the fire.
You know the real tragedy of it all? Much like the baseball player Barry Bonds, it's the continuous denials. If you did it, just be a man and say you did it - don't hide, don't pretend. Don't discredit and ridicule everyone who's telling the truth, the people who are trying to make the world see the light. The American people don't hate Barry Bonds because he took drugs - they hate him because he's a jackass. Like Bonds, Armstrong reached the crossroads and picked the wrong turning. I fancy he'll keep on denying until he can deny no longer, but by that time nothing he says will matter. The damage will be done.
The case of Lance Armstrong does underline one thing however - that I must now accept that sport has to be watched through cynical eyes. There are no heroes, no fairy tales, no magic, no perfect stories. Athletes must never be seen as being "role models" to our young people. I was as shocked as most people were about the identity of the footballer who had an affair with Imogen Thomas - I'm not going to name him here but obviously everyone knows who he is - but looking at him through dispassionate eyes, I realised that as long as he played well for my team, I didn't care. That might be a sad state of affairs, but as The Stranglers said, no more heroes.
On my bookshelf I have these items:
DVD and accompanying magazine about Lance Armstrong
"Lance Armstrong: Images of a Champion"
"23 Days in July: Inside Lance Armstrong's Record breaking victory in the Tour de France"
"Lance Armstrong: Tour de Force"
Lance Armstrong's two autobiographies
When the whole truth is revealed - and it will - if you want any of those items, just let me know. Otherwise they're all going in the bin.
A legacy trashed, forever.
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
Monday, 16 May 2011
Ban the Banner!
Evening all.
It's certainly been a very interesting weekend of football here in the United Isles. Before I get to the main theme of my blog entry though, let me just wander off and touch on a few things that the greatest game has given us over the past few days.
1) West Ham United have been relegated, and Avram Grant has been sacked. The only mystifying thing about that sentence is the fact that the Hammers board members - all of whom are stupendous arseholes - left it until the final nail was inserted into their coffin before deciding to replace the most clueless football manager the world has ever seen this side of Les Reed. For any non-football fans reading this, it's difficult to explain to you what an awful, awful manager Avram Grant is. Perhaps it'd be better to just tell you that he's relegated the last two teams he's managed, he had a hand in ousting the greatest manager Chelsea ever had, and he inspired no confidence whatsoever in his players. It is still unclear what UEFA coaching qualifications he actually has, but reports coming out from West Ham's dressing room about his tactical "knowledge" suggest he hasn't got many. No wonder the last rousing half-time speech in there was from captain Scott Parker, not himself.
2) Many congratulations to AFC Telford United on their promotion via the play-offs to the Blue Square Premier - otherwise known by us old farts as the Conference. When I first moved up to Shropshire, Telford United and their ground The Bucks Head became my regular source of football, and though it was a billion miles away from Old Trafford standards I didn't care a jot. The stadium was old and run-down however, so they bulldozed it and replaced it with a gleaming new one (New Bucks Head, funnily enough) which eight years on remains VERY impressive by non-league standards. What happened to Telford United is a story for another day, but after it crashed and burned in 2004 a new team was set up by the fans and they started all over again. The fact that they've got back to the level Telford United were at within seven years is a testament to the magnificent work done down there. I was sceptical, and there's still work to be done, but watching the play-off final made me proud that there's a football club which represents the local community so voraciously as AFC Telford do, and really proud that that club is within walking distance of myself. I wish them all the good luck in the world.
But now I want to get to the matter in hand, and it's concerning this:
3) Manchester United won the Premier League title on Saturday afternoon, their 19th league crown.
4) Manchester city won the FA Cup on Saturday afternoon, ending a 35 year trophy drought.
This story can get complicated but for the sake of everyone I'm going to simplify it down. For the past decade or so there has been a banner at Old Trafford which has displayed the number of years since city, one of our rivals, last won a trophy (a picture of it is below if you've not seen it). Now that city have triumphed in a (largely irrelevant) competition, a discussion has broken out - what to do with "the banner"? As I follow an awful lot of United supporters on Twatter, it's a debate I've been seeing a lot in the last few days. Opinions have generally been divided between:
a) Take it down.
b) Keep it up.
c) Modify it.
but I've not seen anyone yet who's shared my opinion of the banner - that it should never have been there in the first place.
What I love about my football club is that history just seeps out of its every corner - most of it good, some of it bad. If you asked me to name a United Dream XI, I'd struggle, and that'd be just based on players I've seen with my own eyes, never mind including Robson, Law, Charlton, Best, Edwards and more. What I love about my football club is that we're one of the most successful football teams in the world. What I love about my football club is the splendour of the stadium, the fact we have the greatest manager of all time, the Munich tunnel, the proud and loud away support, the fact everyone else hates us, and so much more.
In my opinion, the pride I, and hopefully others, feel in my football club should be reflected by the banners and flags that adorn the ground. We should boast about OUR achievements, OUR players, OUR history and OUR on field prowess rather than spend so much time thinking about others. It's the same for the chants - Patrice Evra? Javier Hernandez? Michael Carrick? No songs for them, but plenty about hating Scousers or city being a small club. Fair enough, I agree with those sentiments, but it's not productive. The only chant we have for Ji Sung Park is about the dubious culinary habits in his native country.
Okay, "the banner" was mildly amusing but it's always been an albatross around our necks. Would it have inspired the city players to try extra hard? I don't know - I doubt they care, actually - but the fact that Roberto Mancini took great delight in saying how they were going to "rip that banner down", and the fact that after their win, the city players paraded a banner saying "0 years" on the Wembley pitch means that you can bet they were aware of it. And now it becomes an embarrassment. Take it down? Cue city fans piping up with "where's your banner gone?" at the next derby. Keep it up, or modify it? Just makes us look obsessed. For what it's worth, in my opinion it has to come down. But in my opinion, it should never have existed.
Take it down, and replace it with something that celebrates Manchester United. Jesus Christ, there's plenty of stuff to choose from.
It's certainly been a very interesting weekend of football here in the United Isles. Before I get to the main theme of my blog entry though, let me just wander off and touch on a few things that the greatest game has given us over the past few days.
1) West Ham United have been relegated, and Avram Grant has been sacked. The only mystifying thing about that sentence is the fact that the Hammers board members - all of whom are stupendous arseholes - left it until the final nail was inserted into their coffin before deciding to replace the most clueless football manager the world has ever seen this side of Les Reed. For any non-football fans reading this, it's difficult to explain to you what an awful, awful manager Avram Grant is. Perhaps it'd be better to just tell you that he's relegated the last two teams he's managed, he had a hand in ousting the greatest manager Chelsea ever had, and he inspired no confidence whatsoever in his players. It is still unclear what UEFA coaching qualifications he actually has, but reports coming out from West Ham's dressing room about his tactical "knowledge" suggest he hasn't got many. No wonder the last rousing half-time speech in there was from captain Scott Parker, not himself.
2) Many congratulations to AFC Telford United on their promotion via the play-offs to the Blue Square Premier - otherwise known by us old farts as the Conference. When I first moved up to Shropshire, Telford United and their ground The Bucks Head became my regular source of football, and though it was a billion miles away from Old Trafford standards I didn't care a jot. The stadium was old and run-down however, so they bulldozed it and replaced it with a gleaming new one (New Bucks Head, funnily enough) which eight years on remains VERY impressive by non-league standards. What happened to Telford United is a story for another day, but after it crashed and burned in 2004 a new team was set up by the fans and they started all over again. The fact that they've got back to the level Telford United were at within seven years is a testament to the magnificent work done down there. I was sceptical, and there's still work to be done, but watching the play-off final made me proud that there's a football club which represents the local community so voraciously as AFC Telford do, and really proud that that club is within walking distance of myself. I wish them all the good luck in the world.
But now I want to get to the matter in hand, and it's concerning this:
3) Manchester United won the Premier League title on Saturday afternoon, their 19th league crown.
4) Manchester city won the FA Cup on Saturday afternoon, ending a 35 year trophy drought.
This story can get complicated but for the sake of everyone I'm going to simplify it down. For the past decade or so there has been a banner at Old Trafford which has displayed the number of years since city, one of our rivals, last won a trophy (a picture of it is below if you've not seen it). Now that city have triumphed in a (largely irrelevant) competition, a discussion has broken out - what to do with "the banner"? As I follow an awful lot of United supporters on Twatter, it's a debate I've been seeing a lot in the last few days. Opinions have generally been divided between:
a) Take it down.
b) Keep it up.
c) Modify it.
but I've not seen anyone yet who's shared my opinion of the banner - that it should never have been there in the first place.
What I love about my football club is that history just seeps out of its every corner - most of it good, some of it bad. If you asked me to name a United Dream XI, I'd struggle, and that'd be just based on players I've seen with my own eyes, never mind including Robson, Law, Charlton, Best, Edwards and more. What I love about my football club is that we're one of the most successful football teams in the world. What I love about my football club is the splendour of the stadium, the fact we have the greatest manager of all time, the Munich tunnel, the proud and loud away support, the fact everyone else hates us, and so much more.
In my opinion, the pride I, and hopefully others, feel in my football club should be reflected by the banners and flags that adorn the ground. We should boast about OUR achievements, OUR players, OUR history and OUR on field prowess rather than spend so much time thinking about others. It's the same for the chants - Patrice Evra? Javier Hernandez? Michael Carrick? No songs for them, but plenty about hating Scousers or city being a small club. Fair enough, I agree with those sentiments, but it's not productive. The only chant we have for Ji Sung Park is about the dubious culinary habits in his native country.
Okay, "the banner" was mildly amusing but it's always been an albatross around our necks. Would it have inspired the city players to try extra hard? I don't know - I doubt they care, actually - but the fact that Roberto Mancini took great delight in saying how they were going to "rip that banner down", and the fact that after their win, the city players paraded a banner saying "0 years" on the Wembley pitch means that you can bet they were aware of it. And now it becomes an embarrassment. Take it down? Cue city fans piping up with "where's your banner gone?" at the next derby. Keep it up, or modify it? Just makes us look obsessed. For what it's worth, in my opinion it has to come down. But in my opinion, it should never have existed.
Take it down, and replace it with something that celebrates Manchester United. Jesus Christ, there's plenty of stuff to choose from.
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Let's Talk About Sex, Baby
Wotcha?
Twitter, that horrid little online world of reactionary views and unoriginal jokes, is all abuzz right about now because of a woman called Nadine Dorries.
Dorries, for those of you who don't know, is a Tory Scum MP who recently confessed that her online blog, set up to engage with us "normal" folk, was "mostly fiction" and "relied heavily on poetic licence." She's also been up to funny stuff with a married man, allegedly. Dorries has been making the news today because of comments she made in the Commons earlier, but Twitter is funny in that it's a bit like Chinese Whispers - sometimes things can get twisted and contorted, other times things get spread around even when they're fake (much like a "quote" supposedly said by Martin Luther King the other day) so let's look at what Dorries exactly said:
Teenage girls must be given lessons in how to say no to sex, a Conservative MP has told Parliament. Speaking in the Commons, Nadine Dorries proposed that would result in classes in abstinence, but only for girls aged 13 to 16. She said society was "Saturated in sex" and teenagers should be taught that it was as "cool" to say no to sex as to know how to put a condom on their boyfriend.
"The answer to ending our constant struggle with the incredibly high rate of teenage sexual activity and underage pregnancies lies in teaching our girls and boys about the option of abstinence, the ability to "just say no" as part of their compulsory sex education." she said. "Peer pressure is a key contributor to early sexual activity in our country. Society is focused on sex. Teaching a child at the age of seven to apply a condom on a banana is almost saying 'Now go and try this for yourself.' Girls are taught to have safe sex, but not how to say no to a boyfriend who insists on sexual relations."
So how do we feel about all of that? Personally, I think Dorries is wrong in wanting a branch of sexual education to be taught to a specific gender - in this case, girls. What does that achieve? I have visions in my head of 13 year old girls leaving a classroom and feeling terrified that any boy passing them is going to demand intercourse with them. I don't have a problem with abstinence being mentioned in sex education classes, but to teach children to say "yes" or "no" is extremely unsafe and frankly stupid ground. I also find it horribly moralistic - "You MUST NOT say yes to this boy!" etc. Educate children thoroughly and let them make their own decisions in life. Besides, when I was 15 I remember girls saying "no" to me. Quite often, in fact. Come to think of it they were, and still are, particularly adept at doing that. Gutted.
Some more quotes and opinions can be found here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2011/may/04/nadine-dorries-teenage-girls but I want to move on, because I want this blog post to be about this subject, rather than Dorries herself.
I went to a primary school, a middle school (for half a year) and a secondary school. In all of those days/months/years, the sex education given to me amounted to this:
a) In primary school, one day my class was divided into the boys and girls. The girls went off somewhere, to another room, to talk about God-knows-what. They didn't tell us afterwards, and to this day I don't know. This is a serious point however, which I'll get to in a minute.
Us lads got ushered into a room where we were greeted by a male teacher (there was only two in the school) who was also our football coach (I was the dependable left-back, thankyou very much). My memory is very hazy, I can't really remember what he told us, but it was something about sex - mainly what happened to boys in terms of ejaculation and erections and all the rest of it. We were about 11, and I understood NONE of it. I had no fucking idea what he was talking about, so I stopped listening. I messed about with my friend, and eventually we left the room and went back to class. The talk was never mentioned again.
b) Secondary school. We were about 15, and some cunts (I'm sorry, but they were) came into the school to give us a talk about sex that promised to be "fun". I hated every single fucking second of it - partly because I'm a quiet, shy person, but mainly because I didn't think how these people approached it was in the right manner. Example - at one point, we had to sit around in a big circle, and take turns to say our names but with a sexual term attached to it. For example - Charles Chlamydia, Patrick Penis (Yes, I know, tell me about it) and my poor friend Ivan who, as no-one could think of anything else, got branded Impotent Ivan. The reason behind doing this? I can't tell you - not then, not now. It was fucking awful, and embarrassing, and it achieved precisely nothing, except make me wish the ground could swallow me up. There was a few various other shitty things like that - I think at one point one of the guys waved a condom around to get a laugh - and then that was it. And like primary school, that was sex education done with.
In terms of sex education, my schools failed me. I didn't know it at the time, but whisking the girls away that day in primary school set a precedent in my mind - boys stuff is boys stuff, girls stuff is girls stuff, and clearly I didn't need to know the latter. Periods? Tampons? Female contraceptives? No good asking me, to be perfectly honest. Serious discussions about sexual infections, teen pregnancies, genitalia and non-penetrative sex? At school I was never in the position to discuss or be taught about any of those things.
A lot of people will say it shouldn't be the schools job to teach about sex. I disagree, mainly because a discussion about these things with strangers is better than with parents. Thinking about it, my parents never talked about sex with me. My Dad never talked about "birds and bees", my Mum never taught me about womens health. I suppose that if my schools failed me on this issue, so did my parents.
So how did I learn about sex? Well, we got the internet in 2000, when I was 13, and sitting here now, pretty much everything I know about sex has come from it. Most of that is, admittedly, because I'm a massive pervert and I watch shitloads of pornography, but some of it is because I was curious about stuff - stuff that I felt embarrassed to ask my parents about, stuff which I never got close to learning about at school. As I type this, I look out of my window and I see my little brother. I don't want him to grow up like that - to feel like sex is a taboo subject to be tiptoed around, or to find out what the inside of a vagina looks like by seeing a Dutch girl on a webcam opening her legs up. Who knows where I'll be when he's 12/13 (hopefully in Boston but probably still here) but I like to think that I'll put my arm round him and say "Look, this is no big deal, I'm cool talking about anything at all".
Going back to schools, and wrapping things up, what's the answer? I don't know what secondary school sex education is like right now, as I'm mid-20s, but I hope to God it's better than what I suffered. So much of sex education is based on frivolity. I understand that it's really tough to counter that when you're dealing with teenagers, but I'd like to see a more professional and grown up approach. Instead of having a big laugh, talk to students like they're adults - which they'll be one day, y 'know - and stress that sex shouldn't be a taboo subject but it is one that should be taken seriously. Knowledge is power, and I can't help thinking that perhaps it's a lack of knowledge which results in 17 year old girls walking round with pushchairs and prams. Outside of schools, make condoms more accessible, for fucks sake. Last time I bought some - and my God, it's been a while - I bought two for £3. Two for £3! Since then they've probably gone up in price as well. When I think about that, it doesn't surprise me a great deal that you see youths on The Jeremy Kyle Show who have gone around bonking young women and getting them up the duff. "Put something on the end of it!!!" Kyle will scream at them, but why would they pay that much for something that's seen as "uncool" and "unnecessary"? Knowledge is power, and if their sex education was anything like mine, they simply don't have it.
Thoughts?
Twitter, that horrid little online world of reactionary views and unoriginal jokes, is all abuzz right about now because of a woman called Nadine Dorries.
Dorries, for those of you who don't know, is a Tory Scum MP who recently confessed that her online blog, set up to engage with us "normal" folk, was "mostly fiction" and "relied heavily on poetic licence." She's also been up to funny stuff with a married man, allegedly. Dorries has been making the news today because of comments she made in the Commons earlier, but Twitter is funny in that it's a bit like Chinese Whispers - sometimes things can get twisted and contorted, other times things get spread around even when they're fake (much like a "quote" supposedly said by Martin Luther King the other day) so let's look at what Dorries exactly said:
Teenage girls must be given lessons in how to say no to sex, a Conservative MP has told Parliament. Speaking in the Commons, Nadine Dorries proposed that would result in classes in abstinence, but only for girls aged 13 to 16. She said society was "Saturated in sex" and teenagers should be taught that it was as "cool" to say no to sex as to know how to put a condom on their boyfriend.
"The answer to ending our constant struggle with the incredibly high rate of teenage sexual activity and underage pregnancies lies in teaching our girls and boys about the option of abstinence, the ability to "just say no" as part of their compulsory sex education." she said. "Peer pressure is a key contributor to early sexual activity in our country. Society is focused on sex. Teaching a child at the age of seven to apply a condom on a banana is almost saying 'Now go and try this for yourself.' Girls are taught to have safe sex, but not how to say no to a boyfriend who insists on sexual relations."
So how do we feel about all of that? Personally, I think Dorries is wrong in wanting a branch of sexual education to be taught to a specific gender - in this case, girls. What does that achieve? I have visions in my head of 13 year old girls leaving a classroom and feeling terrified that any boy passing them is going to demand intercourse with them. I don't have a problem with abstinence being mentioned in sex education classes, but to teach children to say "yes" or "no" is extremely unsafe and frankly stupid ground. I also find it horribly moralistic - "You MUST NOT say yes to this boy!" etc. Educate children thoroughly and let them make their own decisions in life. Besides, when I was 15 I remember girls saying "no" to me. Quite often, in fact. Come to think of it they were, and still are, particularly adept at doing that. Gutted.
Some more quotes and opinions can be found here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2011/may/04/nadine-dorries-teenage-girls but I want to move on, because I want this blog post to be about this subject, rather than Dorries herself.
I went to a primary school, a middle school (for half a year) and a secondary school. In all of those days/months/years, the sex education given to me amounted to this:
a) In primary school, one day my class was divided into the boys and girls. The girls went off somewhere, to another room, to talk about God-knows-what. They didn't tell us afterwards, and to this day I don't know. This is a serious point however, which I'll get to in a minute.
Us lads got ushered into a room where we were greeted by a male teacher (there was only two in the school) who was also our football coach (I was the dependable left-back, thankyou very much). My memory is very hazy, I can't really remember what he told us, but it was something about sex - mainly what happened to boys in terms of ejaculation and erections and all the rest of it. We were about 11, and I understood NONE of it. I had no fucking idea what he was talking about, so I stopped listening. I messed about with my friend, and eventually we left the room and went back to class. The talk was never mentioned again.
b) Secondary school. We were about 15, and some cunts (I'm sorry, but they were) came into the school to give us a talk about sex that promised to be "fun". I hated every single fucking second of it - partly because I'm a quiet, shy person, but mainly because I didn't think how these people approached it was in the right manner. Example - at one point, we had to sit around in a big circle, and take turns to say our names but with a sexual term attached to it. For example - Charles Chlamydia, Patrick Penis (Yes, I know, tell me about it) and my poor friend Ivan who, as no-one could think of anything else, got branded Impotent Ivan. The reason behind doing this? I can't tell you - not then, not now. It was fucking awful, and embarrassing, and it achieved precisely nothing, except make me wish the ground could swallow me up. There was a few various other shitty things like that - I think at one point one of the guys waved a condom around to get a laugh - and then that was it. And like primary school, that was sex education done with.
In terms of sex education, my schools failed me. I didn't know it at the time, but whisking the girls away that day in primary school set a precedent in my mind - boys stuff is boys stuff, girls stuff is girls stuff, and clearly I didn't need to know the latter. Periods? Tampons? Female contraceptives? No good asking me, to be perfectly honest. Serious discussions about sexual infections, teen pregnancies, genitalia and non-penetrative sex? At school I was never in the position to discuss or be taught about any of those things.
A lot of people will say it shouldn't be the schools job to teach about sex. I disagree, mainly because a discussion about these things with strangers is better than with parents. Thinking about it, my parents never talked about sex with me. My Dad never talked about "birds and bees", my Mum never taught me about womens health. I suppose that if my schools failed me on this issue, so did my parents.
So how did I learn about sex? Well, we got the internet in 2000, when I was 13, and sitting here now, pretty much everything I know about sex has come from it. Most of that is, admittedly, because I'm a massive pervert and I watch shitloads of pornography, but some of it is because I was curious about stuff - stuff that I felt embarrassed to ask my parents about, stuff which I never got close to learning about at school. As I type this, I look out of my window and I see my little brother. I don't want him to grow up like that - to feel like sex is a taboo subject to be tiptoed around, or to find out what the inside of a vagina looks like by seeing a Dutch girl on a webcam opening her legs up. Who knows where I'll be when he's 12/13 (hopefully in Boston but probably still here) but I like to think that I'll put my arm round him and say "Look, this is no big deal, I'm cool talking about anything at all".
Going back to schools, and wrapping things up, what's the answer? I don't know what secondary school sex education is like right now, as I'm mid-20s, but I hope to God it's better than what I suffered. So much of sex education is based on frivolity. I understand that it's really tough to counter that when you're dealing with teenagers, but I'd like to see a more professional and grown up approach. Instead of having a big laugh, talk to students like they're adults - which they'll be one day, y 'know - and stress that sex shouldn't be a taboo subject but it is one that should be taken seriously. Knowledge is power, and I can't help thinking that perhaps it's a lack of knowledge which results in 17 year old girls walking round with pushchairs and prams. Outside of schools, make condoms more accessible, for fucks sake. Last time I bought some - and my God, it's been a while - I bought two for £3. Two for £3! Since then they've probably gone up in price as well. When I think about that, it doesn't surprise me a great deal that you see youths on The Jeremy Kyle Show who have gone around bonking young women and getting them up the duff. "Put something on the end of it!!!" Kyle will scream at them, but why would they pay that much for something that's seen as "uncool" and "unnecessary"? Knowledge is power, and if their sex education was anything like mine, they simply don't have it.
Thoughts?
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
It's Time! It's Time! IT'S! LETTERS! TIME!
I'll give you 100 points if you can tell me what my title is referencing there.
Hallo again all. I've been quiet recently, as you might have noticed. The truth is, a blasted thing called a thessertation is taking up all of my time at the moment. Initially I thought it would be fun to write, as you can choose the topic and warp it into something vaguely interesting. But now that I'm halfway through, I hate it. Please Lord, let me finish it soon. I never want to read a baseball book again, to be perfectly honest.
Nevertheless, I'm not here to moan, but instead to entertain. So, without further ado, let's have a look at some more letters into my local paper, The Sloppy Star. Trust me, some of these are beautiful.
What is happiness?
That's a good question, isn't it? What IS happiness? I don't want to get philosophical, or deep, so I won't. But it is something to ponder on. Let's see what our friend has to say in the rest of his letter. Could he be about to say something interesting, or bonkers?
Clue: I've included it in this blog post.
It could be a round of toast with what you want on it or a toasted sandwich.
Well...I suppose it could be. But it's interesting you say this, because...
I like toast.
I like a toasted sandwich.
But which is better? THERE'S ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT!!
It might be a slice of homemade bread and butter - delicious for a lot, but not all can celebrate, due to an intolerance to gluten, but could eat a baked potato.
*head explodes*
But to bake a potato properly takes a long time in an energy-using electric or gas oven. What we want is a small compact electric machine to bake a potato, just one to satisfy our desire.
"Romeo and Juliet", copyright Ewar Woowar, 2011:
Romeo: "Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, and let mine desires be sated on the morn!"
Juliet: "My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound: O Romeo! I would lay thee down on a bed o' thorns for your love. Embrace mine bosom and satisfy to one's heart content!"
Romeo: "Put your knickers back on and fuck off. I wanted a baked potato, you silly tart."
The bread toaster is well established, also the bread maker and the sandwich toaster.
By the way, I didn't miss the logic in his previous sentence, which was essentially: "Electric oven uses energy, booo! Let's create an electric machine which will...well....use energy."
One day we will have this economic machine for doing one potato as we like it, but when?
The question on everyone's lips.
Malcolm McIntyre-Ure
Llanbrynmair
Welsh. The nutty ones are ALWAYS Welsh.
===========================================================
The Prime Minister has stated that Britain could not stand by and do nothing whilst innocent people are being slaughtered in Libya.
Reasonable.
Really?
Yes.
Britain has been doing that for years with Zimbabwe.
A few years ago, when I was about 18, I'll happily admit I shared this view. But now I'm a bit older, and wiser, I've had to accept the logistics of it all. Mugabe is an evil bastard, but he's also smart. He's pretty friendly with the countries around him, and Zimbabwe is land-locked. Therefore it's pretty much impossible to get troops into there without kicking off an almighty dust up. And with troops already in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as Libya and Syria teetering on the edge, we can't really afford a big ruckus down Africa way right now. It's sad for the Zimbabwean people - and I went to school with one who had fled - but shit happens, I'm afraid.
But then Zimbabwe has not got oil has it?
Can you excuse me for a second?
*Puts down can of Coke, opens wardrobe and rummages inside. Finds trusty cricket bat. Runs to letter writers address, rings doorbell and patiently waits. Smacks letter writer over the head repeatedly. Runs back home and wipes sweaty brow with cold can*
Apologies for that. Just that blaming everything on "all about oil innit guv?" is the thing I hate the most, this side of "illegal war".
JH Wood
Telford
AKA Jim Wood. We have previous, I'm pretty certain.
I am now very cross indeed. Who's next? I can cope with pretty much anyone except our old friend Val Dunc...
============================================================
Oh, Vince Cable thinks he is prime minister now, does he?
Hello Val.
*Keeps cricket bat nearby*
He's doddering about threatening the government with his nuclear weapons, while Clegg labours under the dream he runs the country.
That sentence is a lot funnier and more interesting when you imagine Cable literally threatening Cameron, Osborne et al with a nuclear warhead.
Cameron thinks educating any kids but our own is "spot on", although I agree with him on too much immigration.
Naturally. Send the buggers back, I say.
Did the big, white elephant in the room finally stamp on him?
Val, we've known each other for a few years now. And I know more than anybody that this letter isn't hitting the spot, y'know? It ain't....you. It isn't you, Val! Come on. Go back to what you're good at.
Meanwhile, the EU
Well done.
stamps all over us and bleeds us to death. The human rights commission tells us what we can and can't do.
Fuck human rights. I'm serious.
Fuck you and your "human rights". It's time they're banned, actually. Let me create a Facebook group for this.
And the directives continue to be rubber-stamped as they pour in. Who, exactly, is in charge here?
Val Duncan
Wellington
Not you, thankfully.
============================================================
Everyone is coming round to the view that there is no military solution to Afghanistan. The Afghan War is a disaster.
Allan Tucker
Oswestry
Thanks Allan! As wrong-headed as ever.
===========================================================
Cut Trident, not jobs, education and health, and no to nuclear power. It's expensive and not worth the risk.
Allan Tucker
Oswestry
Thanks Allan! You've gone 0-2 these past few letters. Have a day off.
===========================================================
The final letter in this clusterfuck was alerted to me by reader and teacher extraordinare Don. Thankyou, sir.
When I do these blog posts I try to pick letters which are silly, and wrong, but coherent enough to have something to discuss and poke fun at. This letter, however....well, you'll see.
So it is a lovely sunny day, the sky is blue...or is it?
An intriguing start, I'm sure you'll agree. In other news, I just had to let it auto-correct "intriguing". The one word I ALWAYS misspell.
Wait a moment the sky is not really blue, it is a hazy white. Why?
I'm excited. Let's go for it.
Did you know that we are systematically and daily being sprayed by government planes with toxic waste that is supposed to stop the global warming problem?
Reading this, I am reminded of a man I like very, very much called Mike Carlson. One or two people reading this will know who he is, I'd wager most people won't however. Basically, Mike Carlson is ace, he's cool, and I wish he was my dad.
I am reminded of Mike Carlson because when he was on Channel 5 a few years back co-presenting their baseball coverage, he used to signify something dumb happening (a bad error on the field, a dumb trade off of it, him getting the trivia question wrong etc) by making his fingers into a gun and pretending to blow his own brains out.
Guess what I'm doing right now?
Think I am talking nonsense, take a look at the sky. There are normal planes that pass by and their vapour trail goes away almost immediately, but then there are the chemtrails sprayed in straight criss cross lines widening and merging into a haze. I have a panoramic view where I live, overlooking Clun and I have been watching them doing this each morning over our hills!
I don't know about you, but there's one word in that paragraph that, to me, jumps out an absolute mile. Can you guess what it is? Have another look, I'll reveal all at the end.
So what is in the spray? Well I am no chemist or biologist
No shit.
but spraying systematic barium and aluminium into the air cannot be doing any of us any good. It is no wonder respiratory diseases, cancers and Alzheimers are on the increase?
I absolutely love the first part of this sentence. Paraphrased: "I don't know what's in the spray, but there's barium and aluminium in the spray."
I personally think this is outrageous. I have not been consulted about this, have you?
Well, yes, I have. You haven't? That's a shame. But it's true, I'm afraid. The good people at WACKJOB (West Midlands Agricultural Corporation Keeping Jobs Over Britain) gave me a call to discuss it. It's all rather exciting! Not too sure why they missed you out.
Something needs to be said and done about this, at least contact your local MP and protest. Our health is at stake and our world, as who knows about the long term effects of this madness.
Jackie Barnes
Clun
What a fitting word to finish on.
Back to that paragraph earlier. Did you spot the give-away word? If you didn't, no worries. If you did, well done! For it was:
"chemtrails".
Because that word just seemed really odd, slotted into the middle of a letter like that. It was almost a tell-tale sign that this lunatic has been reading stuff from other people which she's swallowed whole, and is now regurgitating this crap whilst her head spins round in a Linda Blair-esque fashion. I was intrigued by this word, so I Googled it, and naturally my fears were sadly founded. It's all a rather sad, bogus conspiracy:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chemtrail_conspiracy_theory
Apologies for the wikipedia link, but then again I AM a student. Which reminds me, I have better things to be doing right now.
Like taking a nap. Ciao for now.
Hallo again all. I've been quiet recently, as you might have noticed. The truth is, a blasted thing called a thessertation is taking up all of my time at the moment. Initially I thought it would be fun to write, as you can choose the topic and warp it into something vaguely interesting. But now that I'm halfway through, I hate it. Please Lord, let me finish it soon. I never want to read a baseball book again, to be perfectly honest.
Nevertheless, I'm not here to moan, but instead to entertain. So, without further ado, let's have a look at some more letters into my local paper, The Sloppy Star. Trust me, some of these are beautiful.
What is happiness?
That's a good question, isn't it? What IS happiness? I don't want to get philosophical, or deep, so I won't. But it is something to ponder on. Let's see what our friend has to say in the rest of his letter. Could he be about to say something interesting, or bonkers?
Clue: I've included it in this blog post.
It could be a round of toast with what you want on it or a toasted sandwich.
Well...I suppose it could be. But it's interesting you say this, because...
I like toast.
I like a toasted sandwich.
But which is better? THERE'S ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT!!
It might be a slice of homemade bread and butter - delicious for a lot, but not all can celebrate, due to an intolerance to gluten, but could eat a baked potato.
*head explodes*
But to bake a potato properly takes a long time in an energy-using electric or gas oven. What we want is a small compact electric machine to bake a potato, just one to satisfy our desire.
"Romeo and Juliet", copyright Ewar Woowar, 2011:
Romeo: "Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, and let mine desires be sated on the morn!"
Juliet: "My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound: O Romeo! I would lay thee down on a bed o' thorns for your love. Embrace mine bosom and satisfy to one's heart content!"
Romeo: "Put your knickers back on and fuck off. I wanted a baked potato, you silly tart."
The bread toaster is well established, also the bread maker and the sandwich toaster.
By the way, I didn't miss the logic in his previous sentence, which was essentially: "Electric oven uses energy, booo! Let's create an electric machine which will...well....use energy."
One day we will have this economic machine for doing one potato as we like it, but when?
The question on everyone's lips.
Malcolm McIntyre-Ure
Llanbrynmair
Welsh. The nutty ones are ALWAYS Welsh.
===========================================================
The Prime Minister has stated that Britain could not stand by and do nothing whilst innocent people are being slaughtered in Libya.
Reasonable.
Really?
Yes.
Britain has been doing that for years with Zimbabwe.
A few years ago, when I was about 18, I'll happily admit I shared this view. But now I'm a bit older, and wiser, I've had to accept the logistics of it all. Mugabe is an evil bastard, but he's also smart. He's pretty friendly with the countries around him, and Zimbabwe is land-locked. Therefore it's pretty much impossible to get troops into there without kicking off an almighty dust up. And with troops already in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as Libya and Syria teetering on the edge, we can't really afford a big ruckus down Africa way right now. It's sad for the Zimbabwean people - and I went to school with one who had fled - but shit happens, I'm afraid.
But then Zimbabwe has not got oil has it?
Can you excuse me for a second?
*Puts down can of Coke, opens wardrobe and rummages inside. Finds trusty cricket bat. Runs to letter writers address, rings doorbell and patiently waits. Smacks letter writer over the head repeatedly. Runs back home and wipes sweaty brow with cold can*
Apologies for that. Just that blaming everything on "all about oil innit guv?" is the thing I hate the most, this side of "illegal war".
JH Wood
Telford
AKA Jim Wood. We have previous, I'm pretty certain.
I am now very cross indeed. Who's next? I can cope with pretty much anyone except our old friend Val Dunc...
============================================================
Oh, Vince Cable thinks he is prime minister now, does he?
Hello Val.
*Keeps cricket bat nearby*
He's doddering about threatening the government with his nuclear weapons, while Clegg labours under the dream he runs the country.
That sentence is a lot funnier and more interesting when you imagine Cable literally threatening Cameron, Osborne et al with a nuclear warhead.
Cameron thinks educating any kids but our own is "spot on", although I agree with him on too much immigration.
Naturally. Send the buggers back, I say.
Did the big, white elephant in the room finally stamp on him?
Val, we've known each other for a few years now. And I know more than anybody that this letter isn't hitting the spot, y'know? It ain't....you. It isn't you, Val! Come on. Go back to what you're good at.
Meanwhile, the EU
Well done.
stamps all over us and bleeds us to death. The human rights commission tells us what we can and can't do.
Fuck human rights. I'm serious.
Fuck you and your "human rights". It's time they're banned, actually. Let me create a Facebook group for this.
And the directives continue to be rubber-stamped as they pour in. Who, exactly, is in charge here?
Val Duncan
Wellington
Not you, thankfully.
============================================================
Everyone is coming round to the view that there is no military solution to Afghanistan. The Afghan War is a disaster.
Allan Tucker
Oswestry
Thanks Allan! As wrong-headed as ever.
===========================================================
Cut Trident, not jobs, education and health, and no to nuclear power. It's expensive and not worth the risk.
Allan Tucker
Oswestry
Thanks Allan! You've gone 0-2 these past few letters. Have a day off.
===========================================================
The final letter in this clusterfuck was alerted to me by reader and teacher extraordinare Don. Thankyou, sir.
When I do these blog posts I try to pick letters which are silly, and wrong, but coherent enough to have something to discuss and poke fun at. This letter, however....well, you'll see.
So it is a lovely sunny day, the sky is blue...or is it?
An intriguing start, I'm sure you'll agree. In other news, I just had to let it auto-correct "intriguing". The one word I ALWAYS misspell.
Wait a moment the sky is not really blue, it is a hazy white. Why?
I'm excited. Let's go for it.
Did you know that we are systematically and daily being sprayed by government planes with toxic waste that is supposed to stop the global warming problem?
Reading this, I am reminded of a man I like very, very much called Mike Carlson. One or two people reading this will know who he is, I'd wager most people won't however. Basically, Mike Carlson is ace, he's cool, and I wish he was my dad.
I am reminded of Mike Carlson because when he was on Channel 5 a few years back co-presenting their baseball coverage, he used to signify something dumb happening (a bad error on the field, a dumb trade off of it, him getting the trivia question wrong etc) by making his fingers into a gun and pretending to blow his own brains out.
Guess what I'm doing right now?
Think I am talking nonsense, take a look at the sky. There are normal planes that pass by and their vapour trail goes away almost immediately, but then there are the chemtrails sprayed in straight criss cross lines widening and merging into a haze. I have a panoramic view where I live, overlooking Clun and I have been watching them doing this each morning over our hills!
I don't know about you, but there's one word in that paragraph that, to me, jumps out an absolute mile. Can you guess what it is? Have another look, I'll reveal all at the end.
So what is in the spray? Well I am no chemist or biologist
No shit.
but spraying systematic barium and aluminium into the air cannot be doing any of us any good. It is no wonder respiratory diseases, cancers and Alzheimers are on the increase?
I absolutely love the first part of this sentence. Paraphrased: "I don't know what's in the spray, but there's barium and aluminium in the spray."
I personally think this is outrageous. I have not been consulted about this, have you?
Well, yes, I have. You haven't? That's a shame. But it's true, I'm afraid. The good people at WACKJOB (West Midlands Agricultural Corporation Keeping Jobs Over Britain) gave me a call to discuss it. It's all rather exciting! Not too sure why they missed you out.
Something needs to be said and done about this, at least contact your local MP and protest. Our health is at stake and our world, as who knows about the long term effects of this madness.
Jackie Barnes
Clun
What a fitting word to finish on.
Back to that paragraph earlier. Did you spot the give-away word? If you didn't, no worries. If you did, well done! For it was:
"chemtrails".
Because that word just seemed really odd, slotted into the middle of a letter like that. It was almost a tell-tale sign that this lunatic has been reading stuff from other people which she's swallowed whole, and is now regurgitating this crap whilst her head spins round in a Linda Blair-esque fashion. I was intrigued by this word, so I Googled it, and naturally my fears were sadly founded. It's all a rather sad, bogus conspiracy:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chemtrail_conspiracy_theory
Apologies for the wikipedia link, but then again I AM a student. Which reminds me, I have better things to be doing right now.
Like taking a nap. Ciao for now.
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
Wolverhampton, We Have A Problem
The other day I stood on the platform of my local train station, took a deep breath and boarded my train. I wasn't heading anywhere new, and the journey was one I'd undertaken many, many times before. You see, I was off to my university - aka The Hegemon - to use the (surprisingly good) library resources and crack on with some work.When I say "work", I mean "blog". When I say "blog", I mean "catch up on last week's episode of 'OMG! With Peaches Geldof'".
But this time I was slightly excited. Because I'd been thinking about my university, and about universities in general. They're great, aren't they? Inside just one university building you'll find so many great minds and learned people. And I'm not just talking about the lecturers either - this is Higher Education. This is young, intelligent people striving to fulfil themselves academically, as well as the "more mature" folk like me who try desperately to cling onto their youth. But whatever the age, every uni student is there for one reason - to showcase their knowledge. To voice their opinions. To inform, and to contribute. To prove to the moaning OAPs that the kids ARE alright. Universities are fine places, I reflected as I got off the train, and The Hegemon is certainly one of them.
I began to make the walk from the station down to The Hegemon, and as I did so my mind began to wander, until eventually I found myself thinking about a piece of uni work I've been writing for a while. That in turn led me to thinking about Simon and Garfunkel - I'd referenced one of their lyrics and I couldn't work out whether it was genius or patronising - which in turn led me to wonder what my favourite lyric of theirs was. I pondered it for a while, before I settled on this one, from my favourite song of theirs:
"And the sign said, 'The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls...and tenement halls'"
That's good that, innit? If you want the words of true prophets, don't turn to any holy book, or any scripture. Walk down to your local underground station, or the nearby underpass, or look at the dark corridor in your block of flats. That's where you'll find wisdom.
By this time I was in the uni library, and after booting up my computer I thought I'd just pop to the toilet. Taking my phone with me, I walked to the toilet with all the stuff I had been thinking about still very much in mind.
And then I didn't know what to think.
So I sat there, with racism and xenophobia on one wall, and Nazi insignia on the other. I sat there, stuck in the middle, like Gerry Rafferty. And then some more lyrics popped into my head, and as I silently walked back into the library, passing blacks, Asians, whites, Indians, Muslims and others, I realised they weren't going away any time soon. They still haven't.
"Father, father
We don't need to escalate
You see, war is not the answer
For only love can conquer hate
You know we've got to find a way
To bring some loving here today"
But this time I was slightly excited. Because I'd been thinking about my university, and about universities in general. They're great, aren't they? Inside just one university building you'll find so many great minds and learned people. And I'm not just talking about the lecturers either - this is Higher Education. This is young, intelligent people striving to fulfil themselves academically, as well as the "more mature" folk like me who try desperately to cling onto their youth. But whatever the age, every uni student is there for one reason - to showcase their knowledge. To voice their opinions. To inform, and to contribute. To prove to the moaning OAPs that the kids ARE alright. Universities are fine places, I reflected as I got off the train, and The Hegemon is certainly one of them.
I began to make the walk from the station down to The Hegemon, and as I did so my mind began to wander, until eventually I found myself thinking about a piece of uni work I've been writing for a while. That in turn led me to thinking about Simon and Garfunkel - I'd referenced one of their lyrics and I couldn't work out whether it was genius or patronising - which in turn led me to wonder what my favourite lyric of theirs was. I pondered it for a while, before I settled on this one, from my favourite song of theirs:
"And the sign said, 'The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls...and tenement halls'"
That's good that, innit? If you want the words of true prophets, don't turn to any holy book, or any scripture. Walk down to your local underground station, or the nearby underpass, or look at the dark corridor in your block of flats. That's where you'll find wisdom.
By this time I was in the uni library, and after booting up my computer I thought I'd just pop to the toilet. Taking my phone with me, I walked to the toilet with all the stuff I had been thinking about still very much in mind.
And then I didn't know what to think.
So I sat there, with racism and xenophobia on one wall, and Nazi insignia on the other. I sat there, stuck in the middle, like Gerry Rafferty. And then some more lyrics popped into my head, and as I silently walked back into the library, passing blacks, Asians, whites, Indians, Muslims and others, I realised they weren't going away any time soon. They still haven't.
"Father, father
We don't need to escalate
You see, war is not the answer
For only love can conquer hate
You know we've got to find a way
To bring some loving here today"
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
Jennifer Rush - The Power of Twitter
Wow, what a day. And what a medium Twitter is. To explain, here's the full story.
On weekday mornings I normally take hold of the previous days Sloppy Star and read it whilst having breakfast. Today was no different, and as I sat down at the kitchen table with my crumpets with Bovril on (try it, it's good) I flicked through the paper as usual, browsing the letters page with interest before working my way through to the cryptic crossword which is a nice warm-up for my brain. It is Monday, and on Mondays there's a special football segment in the middle of the paper. It concentrates on all the local teams - AFC Telford, Shrewsbury Town, Wolves - and then the Midlands teams further afield, Villa, Birmingham, WBA etc. After all the match reports and tables there's an opinion page, and strike me down if it isn't penned by Ron "Big Ron" Atkinson.
Or is it? You see, most of these things are ghost-written, with the paper's journalist phoning the chosen "famous person" up and constructing a piece around what that person says on the phone. I do not know whether Atkinson writes these things himself or not - I doubt it - but in the interest of simplicity, let us assume he does.
So I'm sitting eating my crumpets and drinking my tea as I cast my eye over Atkinson's main piece. It's about Wayne Rooney, and "Sweargate" which I'm sure you know all about by now. The line taken by Atkinson's piece is an interesting one - that Rooney does these things because he's angry and frustrated, mainly because his relationship with the Manchester United supporters has broken down after the contract negotiations a few months ago. This is a fair angle - there are a number of United supporters who have lost faith/love in Rooney. I read United forums and messageboards, and I follow enough United fans on Twitter to know there's a myriad (great word) of opinions about our Scouse Number 10. So there I was enjoying the column when I read the fifth paragraph. And I read it over and over and over, until every word had sunk in. I quote verbatim:
"I noticed that when United were trailing West Ham 2-0 in the first half and Rooney went over to take a throw-in nearby them, a chant of 'You're not fit to wear the shirt' broke out.
After reading it for the fifth time, I frowned. You see, I watched the game on television, and hadn't heard that chant. I had not read ANYWHERE anyone saying that chant was aired, nor ANYONE talking about it anywhere in the media. All those forums and messageboards I mentioned? I had a quick browse on them - nothing. On Twitter? Nope. Not a sausage.
And then I read another article by Big Ron which further complicated the mystery. I'll quote verbatim again:
"Yet again we find ourselves marvelling at Super Kev (Phillips). I was at Birmingham on Saturday..."
Birmingham vs Bolton, which kicked off at 15:00. The West Ham United vs Manchester United game kicked off at 12:45, so from this we can conclude that Atkinson wasn't at the game in London, and instead (presumably) watched the game from a TV set. Okay, that's fine, but how then did he hear a chant that I didn't? I'm always keeping an ear out for what the United crowd are singing when I'm watching.
So this is when I went to Twitter. I got in touch with two guys who work for manutd.com who are on there, and asked them if they knew anyone who was actually at the game, supporting United in the away end. They didn't, but both were kind enough to publicise my question to all of their followers. Soon I was absolutely drowned in responses (and follows, amusingly) and in the frenzy I shook my head wryly and realised that if anyone ever tries telling you that Twitter isn't useful, they're talking out of their arse.
I got swamped with replies, too many to mention - although I'll tally them up later - but the gist of all of them was exactly the same: "That never happened. Anyone who says that either misheard or is lying." But Big Ron seemed pretty definite. Let's have it again:
"I noticed that...a chant of 'You're not fit to wear the shirt' broke out."
There's no room for leeway there - no "I think I heard" or "I thought I noticed" - none of that. It's a definitive statement. Shame it's not true. I'm used to people writing/talking about United. As us Reds say "United - loved, hated, but never ignored" and over time I've had to accept that people who hate the club will write or say stuff which I won't agree with. But to just blatantly lie is really poor form, in my opinion. It may not be a big thing, granted, but it portrays United fans in a bad light. Some of them may not like Rooney, agreed, and some have criticised certain players for not being good enough, but an orchestrated chant of "You're not fit to wear the shirt"? No. Never.
Which is why once I've published this blog post, and gone to get some dinner, I'm e-mailing The Slop. They really are living up to their nickname if they can't even be bothered to check facts.
On weekday mornings I normally take hold of the previous days Sloppy Star and read it whilst having breakfast. Today was no different, and as I sat down at the kitchen table with my crumpets with Bovril on (try it, it's good) I flicked through the paper as usual, browsing the letters page with interest before working my way through to the cryptic crossword which is a nice warm-up for my brain. It is Monday, and on Mondays there's a special football segment in the middle of the paper. It concentrates on all the local teams - AFC Telford, Shrewsbury Town, Wolves - and then the Midlands teams further afield, Villa, Birmingham, WBA etc. After all the match reports and tables there's an opinion page, and strike me down if it isn't penned by Ron "Big Ron" Atkinson.
Or is it? You see, most of these things are ghost-written, with the paper's journalist phoning the chosen "famous person" up and constructing a piece around what that person says on the phone. I do not know whether Atkinson writes these things himself or not - I doubt it - but in the interest of simplicity, let us assume he does.
So I'm sitting eating my crumpets and drinking my tea as I cast my eye over Atkinson's main piece. It's about Wayne Rooney, and "Sweargate" which I'm sure you know all about by now. The line taken by Atkinson's piece is an interesting one - that Rooney does these things because he's angry and frustrated, mainly because his relationship with the Manchester United supporters has broken down after the contract negotiations a few months ago. This is a fair angle - there are a number of United supporters who have lost faith/love in Rooney. I read United forums and messageboards, and I follow enough United fans on Twitter to know there's a myriad (great word) of opinions about our Scouse Number 10. So there I was enjoying the column when I read the fifth paragraph. And I read it over and over and over, until every word had sunk in. I quote verbatim:
"I noticed that when United were trailing West Ham 2-0 in the first half and Rooney went over to take a throw-in nearby them, a chant of 'You're not fit to wear the shirt' broke out.
After reading it for the fifth time, I frowned. You see, I watched the game on television, and hadn't heard that chant. I had not read ANYWHERE anyone saying that chant was aired, nor ANYONE talking about it anywhere in the media. All those forums and messageboards I mentioned? I had a quick browse on them - nothing. On Twitter? Nope. Not a sausage.
And then I read another article by Big Ron which further complicated the mystery. I'll quote verbatim again:
"Yet again we find ourselves marvelling at Super Kev (Phillips). I was at Birmingham on Saturday..."
Birmingham vs Bolton, which kicked off at 15:00. The West Ham United vs Manchester United game kicked off at 12:45, so from this we can conclude that Atkinson wasn't at the game in London, and instead (presumably) watched the game from a TV set. Okay, that's fine, but how then did he hear a chant that I didn't? I'm always keeping an ear out for what the United crowd are singing when I'm watching.
So this is when I went to Twitter. I got in touch with two guys who work for manutd.com who are on there, and asked them if they knew anyone who was actually at the game, supporting United in the away end. They didn't, but both were kind enough to publicise my question to all of their followers. Soon I was absolutely drowned in responses (and follows, amusingly) and in the frenzy I shook my head wryly and realised that if anyone ever tries telling you that Twitter isn't useful, they're talking out of their arse.
I got swamped with replies, too many to mention - although I'll tally them up later - but the gist of all of them was exactly the same: "That never happened. Anyone who says that either misheard or is lying." But Big Ron seemed pretty definite. Let's have it again:
"I noticed that...a chant of 'You're not fit to wear the shirt' broke out."
There's no room for leeway there - no "I think I heard" or "I thought I noticed" - none of that. It's a definitive statement. Shame it's not true. I'm used to people writing/talking about United. As us Reds say "United - loved, hated, but never ignored" and over time I've had to accept that people who hate the club will write or say stuff which I won't agree with. But to just blatantly lie is really poor form, in my opinion. It may not be a big thing, granted, but it portrays United fans in a bad light. Some of them may not like Rooney, agreed, and some have criticised certain players for not being good enough, but an orchestrated chant of "You're not fit to wear the shirt"? No. Never.
Which is why once I've published this blog post, and gone to get some dinner, I'm e-mailing The Slop. They really are living up to their nickname if they can't even be bothered to check facts.
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Several Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
It's been a while, so let's slip back into the familiar routine of looking at some letters into The Sloppy Star, pointing at them and then ridiculing them. There's a few to get through this time around, so let's dive straight in:
Sean Bayley calls me homophobic and other vitriolic names for defending the guesthouse couple who refused to give two homosexuals a double bed.
You remember this case, I hope? It's a very tricky one - a Christian couple who own a guesthouse refused to let two gay men stay overnight, based on their religious beliefs. They claimed that if they initially knew they were gay, they would have said they weren't welcome before they pitched up there. As it was, they turned up, got told to clear off, it went to court and it all got very messy.
I find this one very tough to call. On one hand, shops don't have to serve people, and if a biker goes to a pub he can be asked to leave and he can't do a damn thing about it. This couple own a guesthouse, which is also their home, so if they don't want someone in there they're entitled to say "no". HOWEVER in this case, their view is so appalling, so antiquated and so misguided that I find myself opposing them vehemently. And there was me thinking that God loved everyone.
What do you guys think? I'm genuinely undecided. What I am certain of however is that on this topic, sensible, grown up debating is required. No prejudice and no nonsense. So, with that in mind, let's read the rest of the letter!
Well I don't hate gays, but like most people I find the practice abhorrent.
Ah good. This will be an important contribution to the debate.
I feel sorry for the one per cent who are born that way, but for the rest it is a lifestyle choice, accepted, even encouraged in the media and sick magazines.
I interviewed Graham Norton the other day - nice man. When I asked him about his homosexuality, he told me he realised he was gay after reading about it in a "sick magazine". Interesting.
We will regret allowing it being taught to our children. Anything which is unnatural is contrary to God's law and the whole nation will pay the price for allowing it.
Ron Jones
Oswestry
I wonder if Irish Catholic priests abusing and raping children is contrary to God's law?
Let's move on before I get too irate. Needless to say though, Ron Jones goes on the list.
=========================================================
Sixty years ago during National Service with the RAF we airmen were given something to eat similar to mashed potato but tasting just like candle grease.
Right.
I was bitterly disappointed and threw it in the bin.
I see.
Most RAF stations supplied food like my dear late mother made or the fare at the five star Grosvenor Hotel in Chester or the Buck Hotel in Bangor-on-Dee.
Right.
The corporal cook threatened to put me on a charge so I told him "please yourself". However, support came from an ex-Royal Navy man and police corporal.
I see.
The next day, the messing sergeant - a real gentleman - apologised to me "We're having real mashed potato from now on Taff," he said.
Right.
Let's drink to potatoes and vegetables.
Mr Emyr Davies, Wrexham
I just don't really know what to say here. On one hand, this man is clearly elderly, so to mock his irrelevant and uninteresting story would be poor form. On the other hand though, he's Welsh, so fuck it.
=========================================================
So, Desperate Dave,
Nobody has ever called David Cameron that, ever.
badly rattled over the incompetent coalition's mishandling of the Libyan crisis,
Incompetence and mishandling that has passed everyone else in the world by, clearly.
has come out fighting and suddenly appears to relish a war of his own. He threatens to unleash fire and brimstone, a flash man vowing to send the bits of the armed forces he hasn't sacked or sent to the breakers yard. Cameron talks of a no-fly zone while at the same time firing pilots and decommissioning the aircraft carrier HMS Ark Royal. He thinks that Libya could be his Falklands.
This is a real mixed bag, this paragraph. There's some good, there's some bad and then there's some utter bollocks. I particularly enjoy the bit about David Cameron apparently believing that Libya "could be his Falklands". It is true that there have been severe cutbacks in our defence budget, which disappoints me a lot, but then I'm a boy so I'm excited by things that go whizz-bang and have the capacity to unleash sulphur.
The British response to the wave of unrest sweeping North Africa and the Middle East needs a cool head, not a hot-head in power.
Which currently it has. How lovely that the Government (of which I'm not a fan) has been largely praised for the handling of this difficult situation so far (emphasis on the words "so far", your Honour) whilst letters like this are being flinged around by idiots.
John and Jackie Pond
Shrewsbury
I was curious to know what goes on at the Pond residence, so I sneaked round there the other night, crouched under their front window and listened in on their conversation. Fascinating. I taped it as well, it went like this:
John: "Bad news love."
Jackie: "Go on, what?"
John: "Gaddafi is fighting back in Libya, and has just gone on state radio to inform the nation that he's coming round to murder as many people as he can. Women, children, grandparents, doesn't matter."
Jackie: "Oh my god! What can we do?!"
John: "Well, the right thing to do would be to get a coalition of many countries together, get UN backing, and then implement a no-fly zone over the country. To do that they first have to take out his military centres and tanks that are on their way to Benghazi. That would stop his army in their tracks!"
Jackie: "But that would involve missiles! People will get hurt! That's completely unacceptable!"
John: "My God! You're right! Thank goodness we belong to an unbelievably spineless organisation such as 'Stop The War'!"
Jackie: "Exactly. Best thing is just to ignore it. All these wars solely for oil, it's disgusting. Cucumber sandwich?"
John: "Thankyou. I love the sandals."
=========================================================
Once again Barmy Blair
Bliar. You won't believe this, but I met Tony and Cherie again the other day, at the local cinema. I asked Tony what film they were going to watch, and he told me "The Adjustment Bureau" before walking off to buy some popcorn. At that moment Cherie leaned in and whispered into my ear that actually they were there to see "The King's Speech"!!!
That man just CANNOT help himself!
and Clown Brown have shown their extraordinary powers of judgement.
I see what you did there.
They both regaled the reformed Colonel Gaddafi and embraced him into the fold (they are both of course barristers).
I have literally no fucking idea what that last bit is all about. Nevertheless, both men were correct in meeting the man and trying to Westernise him at the time, I believe. It's a shame things haven't exactly worked out, but I can't blame them for trying.
Well Gaddafi has shown he is still the mad dog he always was. No doubt this has enhanced both their global standings. Oh is the price of gold still rising?
D L Barnett
Arleston
I remember blogging about you before. Nice to see you're still wrong.
Anyone else? I'm tired, so let's just have one more.
=========================================================
If I look forward five or six years, I can actually foresee the possibility of UKIP winning a general election.
*Spits out tea all over keyboard in shock.*
*Cleans keyboard, takes another sip and then spits it out again, just for a laugh.*
I think the Lib Dems will disintegrate before much longer, forcing an increasingly unpopular Tory Government to limp into an early general election, which Labour will win, before very quickly finding themselves even more unpopular with an impatient and deeply disaffected electorate. By then, the festering eurozone crisis will have created deep fractures within the EU and the burden of our own financial contribution to shoring it up will create the right conditions for seismic political change.
Bob Jenkins
Stirchley
I wish that in life we had a mute button, both for voices and letters.
There's so much shit in that paragraph I'd love to wade through, but I'm as bored as you are and I want to go and watch the cricket. So let me just say this to you, Robert:
"I, Ewarwoowar III, state at this moment in time (15:23 on the 24th March 2011) that if the United Kingdom Independence Party, otherwise known as UKIP, win a British General Election in the next six years, I will thus change my name, officially, to "Nigel Farage" as well as resigning from the UK's #1 rated entertainment blog, "The Rise and Rise of Tim Lovejoy". So let it be said, so let it be written."
Remind me of that in six years time, won't you?
Sean Bayley calls me homophobic and other vitriolic names for defending the guesthouse couple who refused to give two homosexuals a double bed.
You remember this case, I hope? It's a very tricky one - a Christian couple who own a guesthouse refused to let two gay men stay overnight, based on their religious beliefs. They claimed that if they initially knew they were gay, they would have said they weren't welcome before they pitched up there. As it was, they turned up, got told to clear off, it went to court and it all got very messy.
I find this one very tough to call. On one hand, shops don't have to serve people, and if a biker goes to a pub he can be asked to leave and he can't do a damn thing about it. This couple own a guesthouse, which is also their home, so if they don't want someone in there they're entitled to say "no". HOWEVER in this case, their view is so appalling, so antiquated and so misguided that I find myself opposing them vehemently. And there was me thinking that God loved everyone.
What do you guys think? I'm genuinely undecided. What I am certain of however is that on this topic, sensible, grown up debating is required. No prejudice and no nonsense. So, with that in mind, let's read the rest of the letter!
Well I don't hate gays, but like most people I find the practice abhorrent.
Ah good. This will be an important contribution to the debate.
I feel sorry for the one per cent who are born that way, but for the rest it is a lifestyle choice, accepted, even encouraged in the media and sick magazines.
I interviewed Graham Norton the other day - nice man. When I asked him about his homosexuality, he told me he realised he was gay after reading about it in a "sick magazine". Interesting.
We will regret allowing it being taught to our children. Anything which is unnatural is contrary to God's law and the whole nation will pay the price for allowing it.
Ron Jones
Oswestry
I wonder if Irish Catholic priests abusing and raping children is contrary to God's law?
Let's move on before I get too irate. Needless to say though, Ron Jones goes on the list.
=========================================================
Sixty years ago during National Service with the RAF we airmen were given something to eat similar to mashed potato but tasting just like candle grease.
Right.
I was bitterly disappointed and threw it in the bin.
I see.
Most RAF stations supplied food like my dear late mother made or the fare at the five star Grosvenor Hotel in Chester or the Buck Hotel in Bangor-on-Dee.
Right.
The corporal cook threatened to put me on a charge so I told him "please yourself". However, support came from an ex-Royal Navy man and police corporal.
I see.
The next day, the messing sergeant - a real gentleman - apologised to me "We're having real mashed potato from now on Taff," he said.
Right.
Let's drink to potatoes and vegetables.
Mr Emyr Davies, Wrexham
I just don't really know what to say here. On one hand, this man is clearly elderly, so to mock his irrelevant and uninteresting story would be poor form. On the other hand though, he's Welsh, so fuck it.
=========================================================
So, Desperate Dave,
Nobody has ever called David Cameron that, ever.
badly rattled over the incompetent coalition's mishandling of the Libyan crisis,
Incompetence and mishandling that has passed everyone else in the world by, clearly.
has come out fighting and suddenly appears to relish a war of his own. He threatens to unleash fire and brimstone, a flash man vowing to send the bits of the armed forces he hasn't sacked or sent to the breakers yard. Cameron talks of a no-fly zone while at the same time firing pilots and decommissioning the aircraft carrier HMS Ark Royal. He thinks that Libya could be his Falklands.
This is a real mixed bag, this paragraph. There's some good, there's some bad and then there's some utter bollocks. I particularly enjoy the bit about David Cameron apparently believing that Libya "could be his Falklands". It is true that there have been severe cutbacks in our defence budget, which disappoints me a lot, but then I'm a boy so I'm excited by things that go whizz-bang and have the capacity to unleash sulphur.
The British response to the wave of unrest sweeping North Africa and the Middle East needs a cool head, not a hot-head in power.
Which currently it has. How lovely that the Government (of which I'm not a fan) has been largely praised for the handling of this difficult situation so far (emphasis on the words "so far", your Honour) whilst letters like this are being flinged around by idiots.
John and Jackie Pond
Shrewsbury
I was curious to know what goes on at the Pond residence, so I sneaked round there the other night, crouched under their front window and listened in on their conversation. Fascinating. I taped it as well, it went like this:
John: "Bad news love."
Jackie: "Go on, what?"
John: "Gaddafi is fighting back in Libya, and has just gone on state radio to inform the nation that he's coming round to murder as many people as he can. Women, children, grandparents, doesn't matter."
Jackie: "Oh my god! What can we do?!"
John: "Well, the right thing to do would be to get a coalition of many countries together, get UN backing, and then implement a no-fly zone over the country. To do that they first have to take out his military centres and tanks that are on their way to Benghazi. That would stop his army in their tracks!"
Jackie: "But that would involve missiles! People will get hurt! That's completely unacceptable!"
John: "My God! You're right! Thank goodness we belong to an unbelievably spineless organisation such as 'Stop The War'!"
Jackie: "Exactly. Best thing is just to ignore it. All these wars solely for oil, it's disgusting. Cucumber sandwich?"
John: "Thankyou. I love the sandals."
=========================================================
Once again Barmy Blair
Bliar. You won't believe this, but I met Tony and Cherie again the other day, at the local cinema. I asked Tony what film they were going to watch, and he told me "The Adjustment Bureau" before walking off to buy some popcorn. At that moment Cherie leaned in and whispered into my ear that actually they were there to see "The King's Speech"!!!
That man just CANNOT help himself!
and Clown Brown have shown their extraordinary powers of judgement.
I see what you did there.
They both regaled the reformed Colonel Gaddafi and embraced him into the fold (they are both of course barristers).
I have literally no fucking idea what that last bit is all about. Nevertheless, both men were correct in meeting the man and trying to Westernise him at the time, I believe. It's a shame things haven't exactly worked out, but I can't blame them for trying.
Well Gaddafi has shown he is still the mad dog he always was. No doubt this has enhanced both their global standings. Oh is the price of gold still rising?
D L Barnett
Arleston
I remember blogging about you before. Nice to see you're still wrong.
Anyone else? I'm tired, so let's just have one more.
=========================================================
If I look forward five or six years, I can actually foresee the possibility of UKIP winning a general election.
*Spits out tea all over keyboard in shock.*
*Cleans keyboard, takes another sip and then spits it out again, just for a laugh.*
I think the Lib Dems will disintegrate before much longer, forcing an increasingly unpopular Tory Government to limp into an early general election, which Labour will win, before very quickly finding themselves even more unpopular with an impatient and deeply disaffected electorate. By then, the festering eurozone crisis will have created deep fractures within the EU and the burden of our own financial contribution to shoring it up will create the right conditions for seismic political change.
Bob Jenkins
Stirchley
I wish that in life we had a mute button, both for voices and letters.
There's so much shit in that paragraph I'd love to wade through, but I'm as bored as you are and I want to go and watch the cricket. So let me just say this to you, Robert:
"I, Ewarwoowar III, state at this moment in time (15:23 on the 24th March 2011) that if the United Kingdom Independence Party, otherwise known as UKIP, win a British General Election in the next six years, I will thus change my name, officially, to "Nigel Farage" as well as resigning from the UK's #1 rated entertainment blog, "The Rise and Rise of Tim Lovejoy". So let it be said, so let it be written."
Remind me of that in six years time, won't you?
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