Nice Try buddy

Now perhaps I am an obsessed old man with too much hair that hasn’t even attempted to go grey but...

Unless the power of the Spanish sun is more potent and magical than we thought, or is Richardo Carvalho wearing a weave?

No-one survives the island of hair (tm)

Next I'll Take Manhattan

had a good phone call this morning from S&M credit card


It went like this


"hello this is S&M credit card is that Will Vorstellung?"

"yes"

"ok can i take you through security"

"no. I'll tell you what I get the message, when I try and by a pizza for 19 quid if you don't want me to use your card by refusing it I have no problem because I just use another card. I certainly haven't got time to jump though hoops to prove to you 18 hours later who I am. I am me and it was a genuine transaction so lets skip the 20 minutes phone-call ok
bye"

I am proud of this
VW

Team of Babes

I collated this for Danny Bakers podcast in 2007 (then the show was cancelled) this is a team of players with Baby-Talk names, all of whom played in the Champions League or UEFA Cup that year, I think: It scans quite well.

Dida, Lolo, Cafu, Pepe,Addo,Duda,Deco,Oddo,Gago,Bobo,Kaka

Nation Club

Goalie

Dida Brazil AC Milan

Defenders

Lolo Spain Seville

Cafu Brazil AC Milan

Pepe (Pee-pee) Brazil Real Mardid

Addo Ghana PSV

Midfield

Duda Portual Seville

Deco Portual Barcelona

Oddo Italy AC Milan

Gago Argentina Real Madrid

Forwards

Bobo Portugal Porto

Kaka Brazil AC Millan

Hybrid Oddity

At the champions league draw Garry Lineker managing to look simultaneously like a walnut and a wing-nut.

The Ministry of Truth—Minitrue, in Newspeak—was startlingly different from any other object in sight. It was an enormous pyramidal structure of glittering white concrete, soaring up, terrace after terrace, 300 metres into the air. From where Winston stood it was just possible to read, picked out on its white face in elegant lettering, the three slogans of the Party:


WAR IS PEACE
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH

1984 George Orwell

The Arsenal Dichotomy

Having been driven to drink by sanctimonious Arsenal fans over the last 2 years it has struck me thus:

If it's all about the style, and about playing the right way then why do they all go home 15 minutes early if they are losing.

The examples of Arsenal fandom I am party too will even leave the pub 15 mins from the end if they are losing, and stop watching altogether once the league title is mathematically impossible for them to win.

If its all about the style then surely its worth watching even when you can't win?

Wayne Rooney is 22

'At the age of 33 Alexander the great wept salt tears as there were no lands left to conquer... Bristow is only 27.

Wayne Rooney is 22

However He's still doing better than Phil Collins. We've all seen strippers with better coverage than this

Be praised

"I feel that life is divided up into the horrible and the miserable. Those are the two categories. The horrible would be like, uh, I don't know, terminal cases, you know? And blind people, crippled. I don't know how they get through life. It's amazing to me. You know, and the miserable is everyone else. That's all. So when you go through life you should be thankful that you're miserable, because that's… You're very lucky, to be miserable."Woody Allen as Alvy Singer from “Annie Hall” (1977)

Island Calum Best

His dad was a footballer, he's got the Island

World Cup 2006 as it happened, in my mind

My fantasy
World Cup 2006 the final:


England explode into the match, Wayne Rooney scores a powerhouse hat trick in the first 20 minutes, this allows the long suffering England fans over an hour of euphoric singing. The emotion builds up to the looming final whistle, grown men are shown in the crowd in school-girl hysterics, as they realise they will now have to live in a world where England have won the World Cup.

In the final moments, and with his last act as a professional footballer, David Beckham rifles in a free kick. He and the other player go bananas. Beckham does two full circuits of he pitch in an effort to keep carpet baggers out of the photographs of this his defining moment. The players then take it in turns to be yellow carded by the referee as each outdoes the last in celebration until finally the referee gives up on restarting the match and blows for time



Beckham falls to his knees, and in an inspired TV angle the red arrows perform a fly-by reminiscent of the movie Platoon. The PA plays the triumphant music from the end of Rocky III. An official of The FA visits each player and hands him an almost identical pure white replacement shirt, the only adornment is a second gold star over the Three Lions badge. Due to the high levels of emotion everyone’s brain chemicals are so mixed up that the presentation ceremony is blanked from the whole world’s mind, except for the single image of Wayne Rooney doing the Nobby Stiles dance.

My reality
Wayne Rooney is sent off for stamping on someone knackers in the quarter final.




With in the next 4 minutes Joe Cole is sacrificed for the team, and David Beckham limps off. These leaves only Peter Crouch who is expected to gamely, yet hysterically, try to save England. In an utterly unsatisfying dénouement Portugal can’t even win the match and England fail in the penalty shootout. It’s too much for England and the players look like boys who know they are missing there own birthday party next week because their mum is taking them for a haircut.



Having watched this in a darkened room with an ice pack on my head, listening only to whale song I still register heart bursting palpitations. I repair to the pub for the Brazil France match where I witness a vicious pub brawl during which people are getting amateur plastic surgery with beer bottles, which all in all seems relaxing by comparison.