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.

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.