30 August 2011

Death bollocks

I'm quite intrigued by the possible signing of Per Mertesacker (which means death bollocks) as he appears to be an actual proper player. At 6ft 6" and being German there is surely little chance of him crying too if he gets hit by the ball or collapsing emotionally if someone shouts at him.

However, I do wonder if putting such an enormous angry German in the same defense as an unhinged Polish goalkeeper of equal size will be allowed under the terms of the Geneva Convention and the stringent environmental health and safety regulations of Islington Council.

If they get the hump with each other it could create a mini Big Bang similar to the one created in that Hadron Collider thing in Switzerland when they smashed lead ions together and a couple of dead mice they found in a cupboard.

I actually spoke to a guy who knows the club's kit man's next door neighbour's window cleaner's son's Chemistry teacher and apparently there is some concern within the club about the dangers of ending life as we know it if there's a mix up at the back.

"There is concern, but the alternative is signing Gary Cahill, which is even worse." said Mr Bradley of Heathfield Comprehensive school in Pinner.

I like the idea that Arene Wenger was never really interested in Gary Cahill and his £6m offer was just a diversionary bid to draw attention away from Mertesacker and give Bolton an opportunity to make twats of themselves at the same time.

* * *

In other news, I'm having some problems with my nose at the moment. Having to wear nasal cannula things all the time is making it very sore. The constant oxygen flow dries out my nose and it bleeds, plus my bogies are enormous. Also the little bit that seperates the nostrils is all red and it's starting to look like Amy Whinehouse's hooter.

The answer apparently is to apply a soothing water based gel to the affected areas, and K-Y jelly is the recommended product. But of course I am not willing to ask a female pharmacist in a crowded Boots for a tube of KY Jelly as it so synonymous with anal homosexual nookie.

I've already been in once to ask for some poo powder to unblock me after all the cheese cake and codeine I've ingested recently. And when I asked for some bum cream to help sooth my arse grapes I don't think my disguise would have fooled them even if one of my fake breasts hadn't burst.

Fun times.

28 August 2011

The satanic versus...

While I will have to wait for another day before I can bring Suki and Ling Ling over from China, I am sanguine about Arsenal losing today by eight goals for Manchester United to only two goals for Arsenal.

I am not upset, humiliated, embarrassed, or angry as a consequence of this result and the rash that covered my chest and genitals when Arsenal lost 6-1 to Manchester United in 2001 has not returned either, because I know that today was not Arsenal or Arsène Wenger's fault.

I've been warning the footballing community on the blog for years that Alex Ferguson has made a Faustian pact with the devil. There is no other explanation to account for his managerial career.

How does an incontinent alcoholic Glaswegian with little or no social skills achieve something no one in football has ever achieved? In our reality his CV is not possible. The clues are everywhere. Today for example; Manchester City win 5-1 at Totterington. Citeh the only current real threats to United's dominance. So United of course better that result by humiliating Arsenal 8-2.

And it had to be eight goals because 7-2 would not have been enough to put them top of the Premier League. Ferguson is the only man to have defeated the Beckham. Little episodes such as today's have littered his career. Any one instance in isolation can be explained away as coincidence, luck or an aberration, but all of them together is something altogether more sinister.

Ferguson the satanic has defeated the Wenger, the Mourinho, the Benitez. He has wet himself in a car and his reputation has remained in tact and my research has shown he is nearly 700 years old. I know kids, I'm scared too. I'm just glad I'm a Napoli fan.

In safe hands

Arsenal are 13/2 with some bookies today to win at Old Trafford. Granted Arsenal's current side is not the strongest and many of them weren't alive when Zammo from Grange Hill was battling his heroine addiction, but 13/2? I cannot accept they are that bad.

We must first of course remind ourselves that Manchester United will field a younger team than Arsenal. Also their goalkeeper David De Gea is possibly the worst of a long line of catastrophic number ones Alex Ferguson has brought to United over the years. Worse I think even than Massimo "The blind venetian" Taibi - a nickname that still makes me laugh.

David De Gea relaxing at home yesterday

Arsenal on the other hand have Wojciech Szczesny who may be even crazier than Jens Lehmann, and as we all know the crazier the goalkeeper the better. His penalty save against Udinese was fantastic, but his roaring at the penalty taker in Polish to distract him was the stuff of legends. Only the true greats, the true mentalists are capable of this.

Adjusting for how under rated Arsenal's fringe players are and how over rated United are in general, coupled with my stubborn refusal to stare facts in the face mean I will have to have a bet on Arsenal today. I simply must.

May the good lord and father of the baby Jesus forgive me but I will also be backing Totterington too today and in fact Fulham. You may be confused at this point. Is my goal to lose as much money as possible before the weekend is out? Have I overdosed on codeine and Quavers? Is my oxygen flow too high and mashed up my brains?

Well, possibly.

But if none of those things have happened I will have all the monies I need at the end of the day to finally satisfy the Visa requirements and bring specialist nurses Suki and Ling Ling over from Shanghai to join my personal medical staff. And not before time.

*Update: Just seen team news, forget everything I just said, we're fooked.

26 August 2011

Champions League proper

A tricky Champions League draw for the boys, but one I think they can progress from. I can't see Manchester City making any waves taking their first dip in the grown ups pool. And of course Villareal, while being a good side with a solid pedigree, will be at the mercy of their coach driver getting them to the games on time as I am told by a reliable source he takes extensive naps.

The square heads will be favourites but I see no reason why we cannot progress with them. In other news Arsenal who I think are from London in England have what I think is a c*nt of a draw, but one they can win if they buy at least two players who have seen a grown woman naked.

Manchester United typically will play three teams who are only part-timers: Otelul Galati who no one in the world has heard of apart from the twelve members of their team and the woman who washes their tops.

Basel who have a defender that makes emmental cheese for a living. And their final opponents are a group of Norwegian Scout troop leaders with a name that is unpronounceable to normal people, who have only very recently taken up the game. "We're not very good, but we enjoy a good kickabout," said the captain of the team Ŏlvïk Hĕŋniñgġeʼnniğurgħånšøņn after the draw on Thursday.

24 August 2011

All so predictable

The sad thing about Samir Nasri leaving Arsenal is that some kid in Finchley has probably paid to have her name printed on the back of his shirt and now she's left he won't be able to wear the shirt again.

That's really the only aspect of this transfer that should cause any emotion. Samir Nasri will of course be useless at Manchester City and won't be missed by Arsenal.

She was lost to Arsenal the moment she was linked with Manchester City. It's happened before with Adebeyor. Put in about 18 months of good performances and demand £200k a week.

She is now making so much money it will be impossible for her to care about the fundamentals of a silly game like football which only people who make a sensible or reasonable wage can really become genuinely passionate about.

Passing a football around, shooting, scoring a goal, some times having to play when it's raining or when it's really cold, all of these things will now seem so irrelevant and disagreeable to her it will be impossible for her to summon up the requisite motivation to perform at the levels that have won her a £200,000 a week contract at Manchester City.

If you slept in a bed stuffed with £50 notes in pyjamas made from the finest silks spooled through the moistened labia of Chinese virgins and decorated with your initials using the mane of a unicorn, would you go to training if it was pissing down outside?

Coupled with the fact that City have no heritage now since they were reborn in the image of a lunatic Arab. There will be no possible way a team spirit could survive in the suffocating atmosphere of their dressing room which is now a vacuum with all the principles and values of previous teams sucked out into space. The walls are now reinforced with a special alloy in order to contain the ego of Mario Balotelli and the complexities of Carlos Tevez.

Although Samir was married in a civil partnership to her lesbian lover Letisha just ten months ago, only her love of money can keep her awake let alone maintain the kind of physical condition that will allow her to withstand the physical demands of a Premier League season.

I'll bet good money she plays no more than ten game for City this season and scores no more than four goals. By this time next year there will almost certainly be talk of a transfer to some obscure French team or possibly Juventus. But of course no one will be able to finance the wages and she will spend her time in the shadows of the dressing room and underground lesbian role-playing clubs never to be seen again.

Good riddance that's what I'd always say if I didn't support Napoli now and wasn't in the least bit concerned about what's happening to Arsenal.

23 August 2011

Champion's League wagering

I hate it when a bogey fires out of my nose so quickly that I can't see where it went. Like that scene in The Empire Strikes Back where the Millennium Falcon is being chased by the big Imperial ship and they lose it when it does a fly past cause it's clinging to their hull.

I'm always paranoid it'll be stuck to my jumper or something and everyone will laugh at me when I go out because as we all know, the last thing you want when you go out in public is to have bogies all down your front. That and being set on fire by a madman.

Anyway this just happened to me, but I found the bogey in the end on the floor a long way away from me. From a distance it looked like a bran flake.

Moving on...within the context of the season Arsenal's game with Udinese tomorrow is ball janglingly important. I'm just glad I support Napoli now so I will be just as likely to watch the Sound of Music than tune in for the game.

If Arsenal qualify they can buy some players that are over 12 and have played more than 7 professional games of football for clubs in the top league of a country that has a proper power grid and functioning democracy.

If they don't qualify Arsenal are Tottenham with a bigger stadium. Only not as good as Tottenham. I really think it's that bad. If I was an Arsenal fan I'd wonder if they missed a chance in the summer to clear the house. Get a new manager, new ideas, new players, new start.

Luckily I care more about sammiches than Arsenal. And of course I will make so much monies betting on the Champions League these next two days that my bank balance will have more zeros in one line than outside an Apple shop when a new iPad is about to go on sale.

Tonight for example I shall be trying out a new technique of pulling Win/Loss/Draw results out of a hat and using these selections to put together a trixie that will finance the manufacturing of a bespoke copper ear trumpet that will make me the envy of the old peoples' day centre.

Tonight's selections are then.....

FC Zurich v Bayern Mooonchen - Draw (100/30)
Genk v Maccabi Haifa - Draw (12/5)
APOEL Nicosia v Wisla Krakow - Krakow Win (4/1)

22 August 2011

Very cross actually

Every time the Co-op people offer up a sammich I really like they discontinue it way before I'm sick of it. This has also happened with their nice prawn noodles thing. The people at Ginsters have done this to me as well on four occasions, first with the Mexican wrap which they changed, then they stopped the newer version, then they stopped the Thai prawn wrap and finally the India chicken wrap.

I don't buy Ginsters sammiches no more because of this. The Co-op are now doing the same thing. It's like someone followers me around observing my sammich eating habits and reports back to head office of all sammich makers to discontinue the products that bring just a few minutes of pleasure to my life each lunch time.

The Pot Noodle people will discontinue their interpretation of Chili Con Carne next you just see if they don't. The sammich people have forsaken me. I am the forsaken.

Get the fuck out

So today's amusing NHS related anecdote involves a district nurse. She'd been sent over to see me by my GP. To touch base with me. I don't like it that we're touching base with each other in this country now. I was OK touching base with co-workers in the US of States, when in Rome and everything, but we shouldn't be touching base with anyone in this country. We'll be giving each other a heads up next.

Anyway I digress. This woman in her blue tunic looked just like Violet Beauregarde from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. She was maybe 5ft tall but very fat so was almost perfectly spherical and she perched herself on the side my sofa with her two feet swinging away beneath her. I was immediately appalled by her.

I did not offer her tea and certainly not a biscuit.

I cannot take health care professionals seriously who clearly have no interest in their own health so the plan was to roll this woman out of the house as soon as possible. I told her briefly as possibly the things I'd told my GP, about what I want to occur when it's time and why and she nodded sympathetically.

I told her briefly about my condition and history. She nodded sympathetically. When I was finished there was a few seconds of silence before she responded with, "and do you have any problems with bed sores, do you need a cushion?"

Bed sores? I've just been telling you the end is nigh for me. My lungs are essentially just filling a hole in my chest, they serve no other purpose. I don't want a transplant, I don't want resuscitating, I don't want a funeral etc etc and all you've got for me is "do you have any problems with bed sores."

In my head I told her to get the fuck out of my house. But I'd obviously scared her shitless with all this lung talk and she was desperately attempting to bring the conversation down to something within her level of competency. District nurses know only how to treat bed sores it seems and help people urinate. Everything else is far and beyond their comfort zone.

I explained I was OK on the bed sores front and she seemed quite pleased. Pleased enough to feel like she'd helped and could make her excuses and leave. She gave me her number and shuffled off towards her car where I should think she made for the nearest cake shop.

She remains of course the very last person I will call when I need assistance. The Avon lady will get a call from me before she does. It seems when people train to be nurses those who are competent are assigned to hospitals. Those who are a danger to themselves and their patients become district nurses.

Be careful out there people. Don't trust anyone. It's every man for himself. Good luck everyone.

19 August 2011

Deep deep down

Newcastle away, Champions League qualifier, Liverpool at home, Champions League qualifier, Manchester United at home. This is a start to a season that could only have been compiled by a bitter Tottenham supporter. One of those Cro-Magnon types who are scared of fire and live in the shadows.

Arsenal usually draw against Liverpool. But on this occasion down in my boots, deep deep down, I fear for the boys because they are literally this time, boys. Most of the over 21s of the squad are either banned, injured or playing for Manchester City now.

Our midfield tomorrow will have less sexual experiences between the four of them than East-17. We are so dangerously lightweight that I can only see us blowing away in a stiff breeze.

There ought to be some money we can make from this mess however. In such an unpredictable market Arsenal's predictability is the one aspect of Premier League wagering we can approach with anything like confidence.

Arsenal will give up a goal in this game. And as they can't defend set pieces it's a good chance that goal will come from cross-dressing Andy Carroll. In the day time he is Andy, in the evenings he is Caroline.

Even if Liverpool can't somehow breach such a fragile defense Arsenal will almost certainly find a way to do it for them with probably a twenty yard own goal the likes of which Lee Dixon could only dream of.

There will be a red card also as Arsenal like to add to their own problems. A long line of players outside the physio room is simply not enough of a handicap for the Gunners. They really like to test their metal by racking up red cards and suspensions of usually the best players.

It's been a while since Robin Van Persie was sent off, but tomorrow I fancy Thomas Vermaelen to see red, probably in the third or fourth minutes.

Elsewhere amongst the chaos of the Premier League I fancy Sunderland to beat Newcastle and apparently there will also be a red card in Chelsea's game with the Baggies.

The sexually inexperienced East-17

18 August 2011

What's the point?

My mum has to go on a driver awareness course tomorrow as she was caught by a gatso breaking all laws of time and space to get home before she left work.

But right, at this awareness course she doesn't have to do any driving. Apparently there isn't even a test.

I think she just has to watch a video! My mum isn't capable of watching telly without getting up to dust something every five minutes. She'll miss the crucial part of the video because she was hoovering the training centre hallway carpet.

She won't learn anything and will remain a danger to herself and other road users. They should have banned her before she skittles over a bunch of school kids on her way to the hairdressers.

Don't say I didn't want you Thames Valley Police. Don't say I didn't warn you when your mopping kids up with a dish cloth. Soft on crime, soft on the causes of crime.

16 August 2011

Au naturel

As you may or not know my blood gets angried up when people use war analogies when they're discussing how people are coping or coped with their illnesses. Not because they're silly or inappropriate, but because they're always applied incorrectly.

"So and so lost their battle with cancer etc"..is the most commonly misconstrued application and it hurts me deep within my guts to think that people might use similar language about me.

Danny Baker I think tweeted about this. He said if there is a battle it's between science and the disease or in the case of incurable illness, science and death. And the patient is the battle ground.

The one thing we know about wars and battles is the longer they last the more the battle ground is laid to waste, which applied to the medicating of an illness means a prolonged treatment can often expose the patient to far more pain and suffering than if they were just left to expire naturally or, not to put too fine a point on it, put out of their misery quickly.

This is of course because death always wins. By definition an incurable illness is an unwinnable campaign for science. The goal for the medical boffins then is just to keep the battle going for as long as possible while still observing the spirit of their Hippocratic Oath.

And this is where some interesting sort of sub-conflicts can occur. For some people staying alive as long as possible is the goal and in this respect there are no moral issues as they are willing to endure incredible pain and suffering to stay alive as they see it is as the only option. Everything is better than dying.

Other people just want a swift ending, which in the case of the war analogy would be a short battle won by death essentially by science waving the white flag. Which you can argue from a doctor's point of view falls short of their Hippocratic Oath.

This is where the moral waters get a little murky as the patient and the patient's medical team who are supposed to be caring for them, want different things. A rather unfortunate dilemma and one you could really do without at such a time.

Tricky questions indeed and every culture has their own answers, but the Eskimo's have for me the most peaceable solution, possibly because they have nature to help them; when their people are in these conditions they simply remove their pajamas and in the middle of the night send them off into the darkness. Simple, effective, peaceful and painless. And why not?

Surprise of the day

I had a Rustlers meatball sammich and it was actually quite nice. I haven't been so surprised since last week when I experienced the Pot Noodle people's interpretation of Chili Con Carne and found it very tasty indeed.

15 August 2011

A new hope

It's a tricky business when you see women folk and you're not sure if they're up the duff or have just been well fed recently. I've found that women are aware of this dilemma and if they are actually in the club they will give you a clue by cradling their stomach with the hands.

It is because of this tricky social dilemma I encountered early this morning and others that I am embracing my retirement. I of course will venture out of doors for the Pigeons game in order to add £20 to the prize pool and bust out early doors and when I really need a sammich or some crisps, but elsewise from now on I will live the secretive lifestyle of a mystery Howard Hughes type recluse.

People will set up websites for documenting reported sightings of me. Like Elvis only more focused around places that sell breaded goods. People will post about seeing a blurry silk robed figure ordering meatballs and miss-hearing things despite the aid of an antique ear trumpet.

It is my destiny.

13 August 2011

Acting is the perfect idiot's profession

I find in fact that I can't get excited about the start of the football season. Not just because I can't get on board with Arsène Wenger's grand plan to become champions by fielding a team of players who have only very recently taken up the game, but because the game has become too absurd for me to relate to on even a basic level.

I view football these days as a caveman might look upon a gay pride parade. I simply do not know what to make of it. I'm even scared of it in many ways.

It's no wonder even the people who are supposed to be experts can't get anything right. Footballers are so completely detached from reality now that the actual sport, the game, the competition as we knew it has now evolved into some 90 minutes of appalling oily street theatre. Plus injury time.

It used to be that a footballer needed stamina, technique, balance and strength to play at the highest level. Now the ingredients are three parts thespian to two parts homo-erotic sexual deviancy laced with cuntery.

When a 6ft 2 Geordie can wear a pony tail without anyone being even remotely alarmed, depressed or surprised and even the referees are sporting fake tans, muscle tops and investing heavily in cosmetic dentistry I think it's time to accept that times are changing too swiftly for one to catch up and it's best just to let it go.

Of course, there's nothing to stop us having a wee bet once in a while. And today's wager is a crafty Premier League Yankee. I've gone for four draws as it goes; Fulham v Aston Villa, Newcastle v Arsenal, QPR v Bolton and Stoke v Chelsea. If this comes in I'll be wild beyond my richest dreams. In the meantime, I think I'm going to have an apple.