Apocalypse later

"NO I shan't do that you silly man": James Blunt ignoring orders in 1999

James Blunt saved the world in 1999 apparently by averting World War III. I don't know whether this is a good thing or not, given how things have turned out post-Bush, but I suppose we must thank him.

A nutty US General who'd clearly watched too many war films ordered him and his troop, backed up by the Parachute Regiment, to attack a bunch of 200 Russian soldiers who had occupied an airfield because he wanted it for himself.

Officer Blunt respectfully declined as he felt NATO forces attacking Russian soldiers might have consequences for the future of man kind. Fortunately the head cheese of the British army General Sir Mike Jackson, who most certainly does not care for the smell of napalm in the morning, was listening in and alarmed by the language being used - "destroy," "attack," "Commie bastards etc" - suggested perhaps just encircling the airfield might be less confrontational and the Russians would then have to "share" the airfield as they would run out of rations in a couple of days.

Thus World war III was averted, phew...however apparently the Parachute Regiment guys were in a foul mood for the rest of the tour. Jolly good show though, I like James Blunt he's a funny chap and good egg, conversely the United States military is a danger to the entire galaxy.

A standard US General yesterday.

Manos de yeso

Once that nonsense in England is over between Audrey whatshername and Daniel Gray they'll be just enough time for a snooze and some rice pudding before some proper boxing commences early doors on Sunday in Dallas Teeeeexas Booooi.

Quite looking forward to this fight. I happen to think that even if Antonio Margarito wraps his hands in plaster of paris again he still won't win. I usually don't like to bet against the Mexicans, but he's a cheating pendejo and half Mercan anyway so I hope he endures a significant battering.

I'm not listening to the Gods on this one. They lied to me earlier. Bastards. I fancy what we'll see here is Margarito knocked out in rounds 9,10 or 11 (priced at 18,15 and 17). He's a big chap with a huge weight advantage so he'll try and knock the wee man out early doors, fail, tire and then collapse under the weight of Pacquiao's punches.

It's really quite simples.

Catch me if you can

I've had a funny old bet today I have. I can't even explain where it came from..somewhere from above is all I've got for you. I was just eating some beef enchiladas and then it suddenly became necessary for me to place a wager.

I can't of course offer any valid reason why we should enjoy any kind of return, but since when has that been necessary to place a bet, that's what I always say. So..the bet is a wee Trixie; I've backed Aston Villa, Totterington and Catch Me to win the Cheltenham thingy.

There's no reason why Villa should be able to beat Manchester United on paper let alone grass if they can only just beat a Blackpool team made up of some lads they found playing football on the beach.

And when you think of motivational speakers Gerrard Houllier doesn't immediately spring to mind having all the exuberance and zest for life of the grim reaper. I especially liked his contradictory pre-match press conference speech yesterday where he highlighted to his players the importance of not giving United too much respect and then went on to describe Ferguson as a genius.

Still, while it's true I've seen people crippled by aggressive cancers with more life in them than Houllier and village idiots making more sense, the Premier League is nothing but unpredictable and I'll never accept that a team playing at home is a 4/1 dog against any other team.

So there.

Come on lads, we can win this we're not dead yet: Houllier at half-time v Blackpool on Wednesday

This horsey bet is just such a random punt I got nothing to say about it. I just happened to be up when the Morning Line was on and so had a quick goosey at the prices for the Gold Cup and Catch Me was the name that stood out.


I'm trusting in the gambling Gods that there's a reason for this other than that they're fucking with me elsewise I've just invested a significant chunk of monies that could have been spent on woolens and other winter clothing.

No accounting for taste

A bunch of chaps at an Irish accountancy firm are in hot water for compiling a "top ten" of new female recruits on the basis of who might provide the best sport. Apparently it's not on according to a stuffy old package from some sort equality organisation who's obviously just jealous as she would have no chance of making the first team herself.

Well it's a sign of the times I suppose. These feminist types are everywhere, all short hair cuts and cardigans, buying their daughters tool boxes for Christmas instead of dolls houses and so on. It's enough to make you weep.

It's tricky to know what to make of this sort of thing, but I'll give it a go. Rather than pick a top ten, for now I'll just exclude the three who don't make the grade; for me they have to be numbers 2, 5 and 6 and I'll explain why if you'll indulge me:

Number 2 is far too orange - usually these fake tans are a sign of a poor complexion and this is usually brought about by eating too much cake...ergo, she'll be fat soon. So ta-tah number 2 run along if you can.

Number 5 looks far too prudish for my tastes. I shouldn't think she'd even give the fire a poke. No wonder accountancy appealed to her. And finally number 6 by gad what a monster! I have an almost phobic inability to adopt the firing position with any strumpet with hands bigger than a chimpanzees. Call me shallow, but it's how I am.

Oh and I think for the record number 11 would be my number 1 as it were. A spot of double-entry with that young filly would be just the ticket to keep the blood circulating on these cold Autumnal evenings what? Tally-ho.