Angels With Dirty Faces

I may have mentioned the sheep around these parts before, but I feel obliged to mention them again. I work in a strange borough, made up of old mining communities and steel towns, all of them very high up on any scale of poverty you care to mention and very low down on any quality of life measure…………although none of the proud folk who live there would agree with that. Anyway, unlike the urban sprawl of the Midlands, where you would not know when you have moved from one town to another (apart from Wolverhampton, where the low brow, open mouth and dragging knuckles of the populace indicate that you have entered a strange, other land) there is open countryside between all of the little communities.

Sheep reside on that hilly terrain, and they make frequent incursions into the towns and onto the roads. These sheep ain’t chickens. They will stare down anyone and they are as scrawny and tough looking as any 1930’s New York street gang. They can be quite scary. Until recently, the borough would round these silent, staring urchins up and return them to where they belong, but the borough is skint, and has stopped doing it, so they are left free to colonise the streets, take over the car parks and to charge down busy roads like a gang of 70's football hooligans, regardless of oncoming traffic. It is hilarious.

Having said that, in the last few days I have had to execute an emergency stop and have also been required to take avoiding action 3 times. You don’t get that in the bloody Midlands.

Talking of Welsh nutters, there I was in Tescos in Ebbw Vale last night, waiting to pay for my Beano, when I found myself being given an enormous bear hug, by a person unknown, with the unknown person simultaneously bellowing in my ear “The Blues are staying down, the Blues are staying down”, he then legged it, laughing, before shouting back at me:” see you in the play off's butty!”. He obviously knew me, but I haven’t got the faintest bloody idea who he was.

Youngest has started Judo. It was like living with bloody Cato anyway: Christ knows what it will be like now. It has come about because of some local bullies, although he has been asking to have a go for ages. The daughter and her pals like to go into a wood and play and build dens, but they are constantly subject to harassment, bullying and violence from some local scoundrels, one of whom should not be allowed out without his banjo.

Last Saturday, they came in for dinner and, to my great surprise, asked youngest if he wanted to help them in the afternoon, which, of course, he did. An hour or so later I had to round them up in readiness for some other activity, and couldn’t find the little ‘un, so, naturally, enquired as to his whereabouts. The girls sort of shuffled their feet a bit, looked a bit sheepish and pointed upwards.

He was sitting up a tree, looking quite content with his lot. “Hi Dad” he smiled, gummily. “What’s he doing up the tree”, I wondered. “Well”, the girls explained,” we stuck him up there with a load of sticks and told him if the boys come around again to throw the sticks at them”.

It was a damn fine, if reckless strategy, if you ask me.

You will ahve seen the universally good reviews for the new Leonard Cohen, which, by the wonder of the interweb, you can hear in its entirety, for free.

Proof

I heard, by chance, the best bit of radio of the year this dinnertime, as I was travelling these sunlit valleys. As usual I was furiously switching stations when I happened upon 5 live. The increasingly odious Victoria Derbyshire had just started an interview with Graham Souness. Apparently, there had been a story in one of the papers about Souness acting like a berk at his nippers football match and swearing in front of a lady.

Souness gave his side of the story and admitted that he had become upset and that he had sworn in front of the lady, and immediately apologised. He said the issue was that in this match between 9 year olds, a player had been sent off inside the first ten minutes for taking a brutal kick at his nipper and soon after, another player had done the same. The gist of it seemed to be that the ref didn't want to send a second player off, so asked the coach to sub him (I think) but the coach refused. Souness then intervened as he thought the coaches behaviour was despicable, and ended up swearing at the coach, with a lady nearby.

The ensuing discussion was hilarious, as it was obvious that Souness was in a rare old fit of pique. Derbyshire did her best to provoke him and succeeded, demanding that he should apologise even though he had already done so and ignoring his point that the coach seemed to be condoning the violence that his 9 year old players were perpetrating on the pitch. Derbyshire was pious and self righteous, but Souness was having none of it and launched into her. She never stood a chance.

Souness is a bit charmless but I felt like applauding him. Too many BBC journalists think that it is their job to be outraged and to embarrass any public figure that appears on the radio. They think that by being discourteous and labouring a point, they are doing the public a favour but they are not, they are massaging their own egos and Derbyshire is one of the worst culprits. I often wonder how public figures remain so calm and so polite in the face of the nonsense, but Souness is made of sterner stuff , he turned the tables on her, but his outrage was genuine and he made her look like a tit. We need more of that kind of behaviour.

The presenters no doubt see themselves as heroic figures cutting through the crap and getting those in the public domain to explain themselves, however awkward it is for them. It ain't exactly Bernstein and Woodward stuff though, usually it is some hapless council spokesman who has committed the cardinal sin of following the rules (political correctness gone mad)or a sportsman, usually poorly educated, who is getting hammered for some mild response to a load of dogs abuse.

It struck, me, listening to this, that there is a bit of a double standard. Derbyshire accused Souness of patronising her (he wasn't) but she patronises people all the time. If you are known person, you get tough questions..............if you are member of the public with some idiotic gripe against officialdom, you are patronised, however peurile your argument may be. What Derbyshire and others don't seem to realise, is that they are the establishment, much more so than the likes of Souness, yet when the table is turned on them, they don't like it.

After the interview, Derbyshire admitted that most of the texts into the show were supportive of Souness; none of those texts were read out, yet one of her co presenters read out a couple that were against Souness. She admitted herself that the audience seemed to be against her, but the only texts that were read were those that supported her. It's a small and insignificant issue but it is illustrative of everything that gets on my nerves about 5 live.

I have been in a mood with Derbyshire all week. I can't stand the woman and hardly ever listen, but, you, know, I flick a lot, and she will pop up. I have heard her, briefly, twice this week and both times she has got on my nerves. Earlier in the week there was some middle class loon on, going on about her disabled son and his right to have a good shag, if only he could find someone to shag him. This woman was irritating beyond belief and believed that that world had conspired against her sons right to ejaculate into a person, rather than into a tissue.

She said that he had written a note to another disabled person, which said that he wanted to take a shower with her and spend the day in bed with her, but the daft bint had rejected him, and really, it wasn't fair. Rather than ask if she should be thinking about educating the chap about how to aproach people, Derbyshire positively cooed that it sounded georgeous. I don't think she would have found it so cute if the bloke was a hairy arsed docker, rather than a bloke with disabilities.

They were both banging on about it not being fair that the rest of us refuse to treat people with disabilities the same as we would anyone else, while pleading for special treatment on this chaps behalf. It's another small point, I know, but she gets on my nerves and she really doesn't deserve to be on national radio. This is the B.B Bloody C we are talking about, and half the time it sounds like amateur hour. Don't even get me started on the coverage of the death of the actress!

If I told you about some of the stuff I have been dealing with in work today, you absolutely wouldn't believe me. Never, ever, be surprised by the depths to which humanity can sink. And trust no one.

Soul Rebel

It seems churlish to knock a good cause but by Christ comic relief gets on my tits. It’s an excuse for every berk who likes to think of himself as “mad, me”, to behave in even more annoying ways than they usually do. I don’t actually watch any of it, but I assume that it still has large multinationals donating tiny sums of money on enormous cardboard cheques, giving themselves a load of free, prime time publicity, Still, it’s all in a good cause and everyone gets to have a laugh, so its ok.

What may still be OK but grates with me anyway is all the hullabaloo over the nonentities who climbed Kilimanjaro. Apparently, they were accompanied by a small army, including a catering unit and a mobile editing suite. It raised a lot of money, but I wonder how much was raised relative to putting the whole thing together, not to mention the carbon footprint and the effects of such a large scale operation on the mountain itself. Something about it just doesn’t seem right to me.

I know that there are still people on this planet who haven’t yet downloaded Spotify; if you are one of those individuals, you are a fool; you are denying yourself unimagined pleasures.

I don’t often start books by the same author one after the other, but, having finished my first Westlake, I dived headfirst into another, and I am enjoying it just as much as the first. The Dortmunder gang are the funniest and best little mob since Richmal Cromptons Outlaws. Westlake was absolutely prolific, so I have hours and hours of good reading ahead. I won’t read them all at once though.

None of us are free

Regarding the Blues, I don't like to say I told you so, but, I told you so!

I have also been telling anyone who will listen that inequality leads to misery for us all, but no bugger has ever listened. Well.................

Drunkards Prayer

<a href="http://www.fabchannel.com/willard_grant_conspiracy_concert/2006-10-14">Live Concert Video - Willard Grant Conspiracy</a>

Blues inexorable rise to the the top continues apace and the citizens of Birmingham are walking around sporting expressions of profound joy. I made the last bit up.

Ian Bell, once again, writes with a brutal honesty, this time about the monsters in our midst.

I can't remember if I linked to this interview with Ray Banks before. It's worth reading for two reasons, the mans attitude, and what look to be some good book recommendations.

"Out of the Gates, Slowly Bleeding": The Life & Times of Harry Crews

Black Heart

<a href="http://www.fabchannel.com/calexico_concert/2008-10-15">Live Concert Video - Calexico</a>

Pancho and Lefty

There is a free cd coming with tomorrow Independent. I have no idea if it's any good but judging by the artistes involved I doubt if it will be my cup of tea. Having said that, I like the cut the of their jib and it's nice to know that there are still some angry young persons about. I like this quote:

"When I hear your music, I want to know your opinion," Lowkey adds. "I don't want to know about your girlfriend. I've got a girlfriend. Keep your girlfriend to yourself, mate."

Having just read the Guardian review of the album, well, it's still good that they have a conscience, but I don't think I want to be privy to it!

On one of my mini tours of the South Wales Valleys yesterday, impatiently changing radio channels in a futile attempt to find something to listen to that didn't aggravate me beyond reason, I happened upon Victoria Derbyshire. I can't stand that woman, but that's by the by. They were talking about the upcoming Michael Jackson tour and caller after caller hailed him as a genius, as the greatest pop artist ever. I don't get it. What makes him so special? I find his music anodyne at best, irritating at worst............what the hell am I missing?

Besides which, his character seems to be a bit flawed; does this not matter? Who is going to be the support act on this tour? Gary Glitter? With cameos from Jonathan King and a comic turn by Pee Wee Herman?

I am deluded.

Fray

Hungry? Have a scanwich

Life magazine images from the 1930's. It wasn't that long ago.

Somebodys Gonna Get Their Head Kicked In Tonight

One of the little perks of having job which entails you spending a fair bit of time in the car is the opportunity it affords you to happen across little gems on the radio, such as this programme on the art of the sleevenote. It's very good and is a lovely listen.

Disappointingly, the new Neko Case isn't available on spotify, but it doesn't matter, because you can stream the whole thing, for free.

Christopher Hitchens goes to Beirut and gets himself and his mates smacked up.

"I Fought the Battle of Trinidad and Tobago"

Another defeat for Blues, undone by the officials..............the chumps that are supposed to ensure fair play. There are not many that will agree with me, but our last few performances have been encouraging; if only in comparison with the utter tripe that has been served up previously. If we had a fully fit squad, half the team that played today wouldn't even get in the reserves (if we had reserves) and we were unlucky not to get a point. I remain hopeful and I continue to like the cut of the jib belonging to Big Eck.

There was a very good piece in the Guardian the other day all about Charles Bronson, Britain's most notorious old lag. It was interesting because it was written by Erwin James, who seems to have been quite a dangerous character himself. The plea by Bronson that he hasn't harmed anyone for 9 years isn't as impressive when you consider the conditions in which he is kept, which ensures that it would be extremely difficult for him to harm anyone.

Mr Moto

So, I spent the whole of yesterday wiping eggs from my face, large numbers of eggs. Oh God, Blues are shit. Mind you, this comes as no surprise so theres no point getting too upset over it. Some of my fellow fans are getting a bit too emotional, they need to exercise a bit of perspective. There are far greater things in the world to become distraught over. Fair enough, immediately after a game, and long into the night, bad, dark thoughts can endure, but once you have had a sleep and the hangover has started to wear off, it's probably time to grow up a bit.

Actually, I spent most of yesterday at Southerndown beach. I woke up, opened the curtains, saw the sunshine and thought, oh shit, I have absolutely no chance of spending the day lazing about the house, reading the papers and watching the football, and sure enough, her first words on opening her eyes from her beautiful slumber were, "where we going to go then?" Mind you, it was splendiferous, as the many thousands of others who had the same idea will attest, and it really felt as though winter was being blown away.

There's something about Trevor Phillips which I find a bit creepy; he seems just a bit too smooth and bit too self assured, I give him a great big standing ovation for this though:

The biggest things that are driving inequality today are class, place, culture and sometimes structure in institutions. The task today is not to shout for blacks or women, but to break the grip of white men who went to public school.


Southerndown Beach, Glamorgan Heritage Coast Feb 09

Just Like Honey

Call me a naive fool, but I am starting to get excited about the Blues again. It doesn't take much. There is still some disharmony among the fans; I can't remember a manager being as unpopular as McCleish after such a short time in charge. I still think he can do a good job for us and as I keep on saying, all our managers have been shit and I don't know what possesses anyone to think the next one will be any different. Eck has seen where our problems lie and has taken steps to address them. It's still a work in progress, but the signs are encouraging, we are much more positive and it is a good sign for the future. If we go up and he is allowed to sign the type of players he has bought in this season, we should be a pretty fast, fluid side.

I fully expect to have egg all over my face at 5 p.m tomorrow. I should not forget the immutable law: The Bastards Will Always Let You Down.

It's probably a bit late to start recommending Spotify, but I will anyway. If you haven't tried it, or just had a quick look and never went back.................it is brilliant. I have listened to all of Alela Dianes oeuvre, loads of Felice Brothers, Rory Gallagher, John Coltrane, Headless Heroes, U Roy and loads more; so you can see the breadth of stuff at your disposal, for free, apart from a very occasional and brief advert. I have currently got the radio set to alternative country, and while it's a bit hit and miss, it's better than Radio 2!

Judging by reactions around the interweb, the English cricket fan has become as puerile and childish as the average football fan: they just cannot tolerate disappointment. The test match just finished was brilliant and the final day was as good as final days get, with every ball being possessed of a profound meaning. England couldn't take the final wicket, so what? It was a magnificent comeback from the previous game and a magnificent sporting occasion. Hats off to the Windies tail.

I read this week that Richie Benaud has retired.We hadn't heard much of him the UK lately anyway, but he is one of the greats and I wish there were a few more like him (and Jimmy Armfield on the football commentaries)...........calm, knowledgeable, wise, astute, not afraid to tell the truth, not given to hyperbole and unafraid of silence. One of the disappointments of the current series is the poor quality of the radio commentary and summarising, specifically, Viv Richards. He may have been a great batsmen but he isn't the most articulate of communicators. He can't say "to", he can only say, "to, to, to", it's the same with "the, the, the"

I wouldn't say it to his face though. I once saw him holding court at Edgbaston after a days play against Somerset. Botham was in the bar, being hugely and impressively gregarious, while Viv held court on the seats outside, on a beautiful Birmingham evening. He was imperious, and there seemed to be an exclusion zone around him, into which no one ventured. His space was his space, and he seemed to need plenty of it.
I recall reading that he offered an Aussie bowler out when he got fed up of his sledging and the sledging stopped immediately. I can't imagine that happening with Ian Bell.

Viv takes on a journalist.

Pieces of String

It's half term already and I am spending this latter half of the week carrying out my parental duties: ie; arsing about on the net while the kids look after themselves. It's been a beautiful few days. I got promoted at work, the snowdrops are poking their pert and pretty little heads up and the weather has become springlike. There is a warmth in the air, and while it is raining while I type, the birds are singing and the air is full of a promise of better things to come.

At the risk of sounding like a decrepit old judge, until the other week I had no idea who Jade Goody was. I was familiar with the name, but it meant nothing to me, and I had no interest in her. I am depressingly familiar with her now, even though I don't read tabloids or watch the more popular tabloidesque news programmes. You can't escape her, more's the pity. OK it's sad that she is enduring a premature death, it's sad that she will leave 2 children behind, but, frankly, I'm not interested. Tragedy will befall families all day, every day, her tragedy is no more special than anyone elses.

So she will make some cash for her kids, good. So, more women will go for smear tests, for a couple of weeks, anyway........... good. But bloody hell, enough with the beatification. Death comes to us all, it comes to some of us earlier than others; it has certainly visited my own family with a harsh and premature finality, but so what; it's not as if the world is short of replacements.

Anyway, all this is just a preamble to two Goody articles. The first a very good and thoughtful piece. The second, a spoof............a very tame spoof but one which was considered too outrageous to be posted on a Birmingham City message board which prides itself on its irreverence.

A documentary on Magazine, from 1978, it's in 5 parts. Magazine were one of the best bands I saw at Barbarellas, and I saw lots of bands. Actually, although I went to hundreds of gigs, I can't remember many of them, Magazine is one of the few I do. Joe Jackson was another, he was amazing and there were only about 100 people in there, in fact, they might both have been in the same week.

To continue the cheery theme: Confessions of a Guantamano guard. I have to admit, the bit about the brutal medic actually made me chuckle. A bit.

Mi Pueblo, Mi Casa, La Soledad

Julien Temple has made a film about Dr Feelgood. He says that they are a forgotten band. Not in this house they ain't, my 8 year old loves them and regards Wilco with nothing short of reverence.

Meanwhile, the Billy Bragg lookalike who does the funny sports bits on the back page of the Guardian is on very good form.

Romeos Tune

I shan't detain you long tonight, but I shall leave a treat: Freckles

Another, huge treat: Ramblin' Boys: A Journey - The Martin Stephenson/Charlie Poole connection

Broken Things

I seem to have hit a bit of a hiatus with dear old Cwmbran library. I'm not finding much in there and the books that I do try, just because I can, are not turning out to be quite my cup of tea. So, I picked up a Donald Westlake. I have seen his name and his books all over the place, shelf after groaning shelf of the things, and being a bit of a tit, I thought that anyone that popular and prolific cannot be any good, so I steered clear. But the other day I was desperate, and I took one home and I started reading and I fell in love, straight away. All I need now is quiet beach to sit on for few weeks with a big pile of his stuff and I will be a happy man. It will never happen.

But I Could Be Wrong

Sponge

#74.1 - Vic Chesnutt - Sponge
by lablogotheque

The banking bosses have said sorry. That's OK then. I like to imagine them just sort of shuffling in, looking a bit shame faced and muttering, "soz". It wasn't quite like that though. A cynic might suggest that they aren't all that sorry at all.

While I feel a bit sorry for Scolari and his mate, I am delighted that it's all going tits up at Chelsea. Abramovich is bad enough, but Peter Kenyon is the most odious man in football, apart from that Brummie scoundrel at Manchester City, and if he and his ilk have to learn a hard, hubristic lesson about arrogance, well, it will be no bad thing. There is a good article on it in the Independent.

Apparently, Scolari had (cack phrase alert) "lost the dressing room". The players didn't like this and they didn't like that. Christ, I wish the same principal applied with social service managers, mind you we would be even more trigger happy than Abramovich.

I heard on the news today that some head teacher in Sheffield has resigned after some people took umbrage at her discontinuing of a Muslim assembly. Well, if we banned all religion from state schools, we wouldn't have that particular problem, would we?

Robert Fisk on the Iranian revolution. I remember some very heated debates going on in variouis Labour Clubs just prior to the revolution, with David Owen being accused of all sorts of bastardy. Being a young militant of course, I was firmly on the side of the Mullahs. I have always been a bright spark!

Supposed to Make You Happy

Robbie Keane was very dignified on Sportsweek yesterday when he was being interviewed by Gary Richardson. I quite like Richardson, but he can be a real scandal monger and seems to want to make the news as much as report it. He asked Keane about his attitude towards Benitez and Keane neatly sidestepped the question, which didn't stop the interviewer persisting and reframing the question in a desperate effort to get Keane to say something untoward, which of course would have made every sports news bulletin for the rest of the day.

Another example of the BBC trying make a story out of nothing has happened today. All the sports bulletins have said that Dwain Chambers has said the he could beat Usain Bolt, but if you listen to the interview, he doesn't say that at all............he talks about the mechanics of sprinting and what he would need to do to be able to beat him, which isn't quite the braggadocio which the beeb has been presenting all day. Christ, it's not as if there isn't enough interesting stuff going on in the world of sport without the BBC trying manufacture stories out of nothing.

Very little of these interesting stories are happening down St Andrews way though, where our team of all the talents continue to play like a bunch of old bastards, has beens and never will be's. Predictably half of our fans won't rest until the head of Mcleish is being paraded around the streets of Small Heath on a stick. They either forget, or don't realise, that all our managers have been shit. Not one of them has a record to be proud of, with the honourable and notable exception of the legendary Bill Coldwell. Leave Eck alone, I say, he seems like a very nice man, is doing no worse than any other manager we have had and he doesn't take the fans for idiots. We may as well let him have the time to either succeed or screw it up royally.

I feel sorry for the increasingly gnomic Tony Adams, following his brutal sacking by Portsmouth. I like the way that he has recognised his faults and changed his life around and I admire his efforts to get himself educated and to increase his football knowledge, but there is something about him that just grates with me, I can't quite put my finger on it, but there you go. Still, I hope he finds another job soon, we could do with a few more iconoclasts in the game. Perhaps he'll come to us.

Andy Flower, the England batting coach and the man responsible for bringing the best out of Ian Bell, Andy Strauss, Paul Collingwood and Alasatair Cook has said we all need to calm down after Saturdays humiliation. Well, if I was him, I wouldn't my role to be scrutinised too carefully either.

Gypsy Rider

Sharon Shoesmith, the former director of social services who was so cravenly sacked by Ed Balls has been interviewed by the Guardian, and she makes some very astute and good points..............it's worth a read.

So is this: THE FABULOUS SCHIAFFINO BOYS

Spend some time with the Taliban

Pakistan in peril

Won't Get Fooled Again

Is it that time already? Not 5 minutes ago I was bragging about my prowess with a bit of dead pig, and now here we are, many weeks later, not so smug, having burnt the turkey. Having burnt the turkey so badly, even the moggies turned their noses up at it. For years I used Delias method, this year I used Jamie Olivers..............disaster. It has taken some getting over.

What else has been happening? Well, the transfer window has opened and closed and Blues,once again,managed to balls up the seemingly simple task of buying a centre half, while at the same time losing two right backs. There are those amongst the Blues brethren who are bit fed up about this. I'm not...........it all adds to lifes rich tapestry.

Carol Thatcher and Jeremy Clarkson displayed their wit for all the world to see and there has been uproar. I can't stand Clarkson, but you know, he is what he is and he appeals to a particular,lumpen demographic, which loves his prosaic take on a complex world. He has a way with a turn of phrase, so, well,let him be. If you don't like it, ignore it.

The loudly braying half wit Thatcher is another matter. She is where she is simply because of who she is. She displays all the worst traits of Clarkson without having the saving grace of a witty way with words. If she cannot see that the use of the word golliwog is offensive she is as daft as she is cabbage looking. I was prompted to renew acquaintance with this little blog after reading loads of accounts by black people of how they find the word offensive, and thinking, I must blog that, with appropriate links. But it doesn't need links. If you cannot understand why that word is so offensive, you are in a privileged position, and I urge you to have a little think about others, who may not be in such a comfortable place.

Anything else? Yes. Blues couldn't score in a barrel of fannies.

I went to see Teddy Thompson, son of Richard. What a chip off the old block he is. Look at the picture on his album cover and read of him being part of a brat pack of famous sons and daughters and you might doubt him, but he is good, and, he has a proper band. It was a great night, made better by the presence of Tift Merrit as support. I acquired a Tift album a couple of years ago, it was OK, but nothing special, and I have thought little of her since. As she played the other night, I didn't know who she was, but kept recognising songs, and drove the people around me mad by insisting that I knew the song, but couldn't place it and asking who did the original.

What else? America has a new pres and the world has fallen in love with him. I say HAH! You don't fool me. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

And then? The weather. The motherfucking weather. Here in Wales we have a weatherman.........a personality, no less, much loved by grannies and all those with very little brain. Well, next time I see, I am going to kick his fucking head in. He has ruined my week with his unerring ability to get it completely wrong.

And.......and...............oh, almost forgot, there is my situation at work, but then I don't do that anymore, mores the pity. I'm still trying to be a little Buddhist, still trying to recognise that I am the sole author of my fortunes, mis or otherwise. By Christ it takes a bit of adjusting.

What about the links? I have hundreds, but I can't be arsed. It's late and I'm drunk, plus I am typing this on a tint notebook effort and it's really difficult, so please forgive the typos.

Q: What's the difference between a snow man and a snow woman?

A: Snow balls.