Another Manchester United player does not have a drug problem

Darren Fletcher has had to take an extended break from the game because he's Scottish and therefore obviously a heroin addict he's got a poorly stomach. Good luck Darren from all of us here at the blog. That can be nasty.

Dreaming my dreams

I wasn't going to blog about this as it's a bit unpleasant, but it's also fascinating so I'm gonna.

Now then, for those that are new to the blog, I canny breath no more due to my having Cystic Fibrosis. So I am connected to an oxygen thingy at all times, even when I just go to the sammich place or make a poo.

Now then, sometimes the nasal cannula I wear slips off at night. If I am asleep at this time this can cause me to feel very breathless or, on occasion, can cause me to actually stop breathing altogether and I wake up gasping as if I've just made love to a large woman.

Now then, this is the fascinating bit; what wakes me up are my dreams. When I'm in this condition my distress becomes manifest in my dreams in the form of really rather nasty death deaths.

For example, I will be drowning, or choking on a sammich. Or on one occasion, an unidentified man will put a pillow over my head. And as I struggle in the dream to free myself, I wake up. It is the struggle and the alarm I feel in the dream that wakes me. Brilliant!

I am then able to replace my nasal cannula when I wake up and return to a state of breathing. While this is obviously unpleasant, I find it also incredibly clever on the part of my brains. I wish I lived in a time when the science boffins had more of an understanding of how our brains work.

That our brains have a subconscious level that remains alert and awake while we sleep to keep us from succumbing in situations like this is very very clever. To be able to alert us via dreams is fantastic stuff. I find it amazing. How does it work though? How how?

How am I aware that I'm not breathing in the sort of corporeal world even though I'm asleep and then able to warn myself by making movie about it and showing it to myself straight away before it's too late?

Our dreams are so mysterious. They are clearly very important. It is for this reason I am alarmed that dream suppressants have been developed and prescribed to people. If I had taken any such medication I'd be a goner.

If any science boffins are reading this I suggest you stop making that kind of medication and focus more on tablets that make you feel like when they give you morphine only without the addictive aide effects.

I've said my piece, I'll bid you good day.

Delusions of grandeur

Those those, the lemon bon bons, the whole jar please: Sam Alladyce in a sweet shop yesterday

We here in the Cave's mouth have a standing hatred of Sam Allardyce. We frown upon pie eating northerners as a rule (with the exception of cousin Johnny), we find anyone with Arsène Wenger as their bête noire to be both loathsome and xenophobic and we have no time at all for people with ideas above their station. Finally and specifically in Sam's case, we think he's an 'orrible cunt.

Apparently he fancies he'd win the league every season if he was manager of Chelsea or Manchester United and would have no problems managing Real Madrid. Even for Fat Sam this is hubris bordering on lunacy.

Apart from the fact that no manager anywhere ever has managed this feat, his first attempts at managing a "big club" ended after about six months when he was sacked as Newcastle manager having only won 8 games from 24. And I really can't see the likes of Cristiano Ronaldo being happy strolling about in midfield watching the ball sail above his head on it's way to Jason Roberts.

This is surely the most absurd speech since David Icke claimed he was Jesus. More so in fact as it is surely far more likely that David Icke is Jesus than Sam Allardyce ever being allowed near the big chair at a legitimately big club let alone him actually winning something once he got there. Even if Fat Sam was the son of God he'd still only finish mid-table. I think it's best to just dismiss this little sermon. Perhaps it was a sugar rush from all those medicinal sweets he eats to control his "diabetes".

Now if you'll excuse me, since I'm up early for no apparent reason I shall use the morning to put together a quite magnificent wager thus limiting my liability on tomorrow's WSOP attempt to practically nothing.

David Icke yesterday

What a surprise

Andy Murray has just lost and is sulking as we speak. Annabel and Greg are perplexed. They don't understand how he just lost or what just happened. They of course don't read this blog. As we alluded to in my post on September 4th: here, we have all the info on Murray; we know why he messed up today and it was of no surprise to us when he suddenly suffered a mysterious injury after being a set up and 3-0 up in the second set and ultimately bombed out of the tournament to a no mark dude with a massive name. All will be revealed shortly.

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