The comedy club of Newcastle continues to have us all rolling in the aisles. When he was at Wimbledon, Joe Kinnear, the caretaker manager used to come across as quite avuncular and jovial, as soon as he turned up at Newcastle though, he looked old, sad, lost and bewildered. Time (a full week) in the job seems to have taken its toll, if this transcript of a press conference is anything to go by. You need to read right until the end for the full belly laugh.
For ages and ages, every time I bought something from Amazon it told me that Snitch Jacket was waiting to be purchased, so eventually I purchased it. It's one of the strangest books I have read, and not in a good way. Some of the prose is superb, some of the dialogue is brilliant, but the thing as a whole is fucking annoying. It comes across as a cross between a Confederacy of Dunces and the Big Lebowski, and Benny's wife brings to mind the crazed and irritating dame in the Jeff Bridges boxing movie Fat City. I shall persevere, but I'm not happy.
I recommend that boxing film, by the way, it's not brilliant but you can probably get it for about threepence.
Hows this for the greatest 12 minutes of Kevin Rowlands career?
2 comments:
What about this for a claim to fame. Kevin Rowland once used the next tumble drier to me at a laundrette on Hagley Road!
Errm, that's it! He was a sulky bastard billy big time way back then.
I recall when Dexys were just making it big in the Midlands, but were not yet all that well known nationally, they and their entourage would hang around in an all night caff on Broad St, acting like scoundrels!
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