Hey,
I changed the comments options to allow people to write how bad they think my writing is under the column. To quote Peter Mannion in "The Thick of It", I have "opened the shit room door" by doing this to my blog.
Do your worst, world.
DC x
Friday 26 February 2010
The demise of Portsmouth, lessons that could be learned?
Hey,
I see Portsmouth have fallen into administration, yet I do not feel sorry for them at all, really. Not because of my family ties to Southampton, though that has meant I have always found a reason to not like Portsmouth, but because their demise seems fitting a punishment for what was essentially cheating. By vastly over-spending on players they could not afford, Portsmouth for a year or two lived the dream. Winning the FA Cup was arguably the best day in the club's history, as were the consequences of winning the Cup. Their entry into the UEFA Cup granted Portsmouth a glamorous visit from AC Milan.
Obviously one feels sympathy for the Portsmouth fans - I know if Celtic were in a similar mess I would be devastated - but the fact is the ambition (or greed, dependant on your outlook) was not victimless. For a start, Cardiff City were denied winning the FA Cup because of the unfair playing field. Should they be given the trophy retrospectively, such as the case in Italy after the match-fixing scandal? It would be pointless. Portsmouth FC may be ruined but the memories can never be taken away. You can give Cardiff the trophy but you can't give them that European night when Ronaldinho and Kaka went to Cardiff can you?
The debt of the Premiership - which by all accounts is extraordinary - is frustrating because of the unfair playing field it creates. The crisis of Portsmouth is, albeit more extreme, similar to the financial worries of Rangers up here in Scotland. Rangers are effectively being controlled by Lloyds TSB, with the entire squad effectively up for sale. It seems they too are paying the price for the over-zealous buying under Dick Advocaat in the late 1990/early 2000s. Looking back, the purchases of Advocaat - £12 million for Tore Andre Flo, £6 million for Michael Ball - are, for want of a better word, stupid.
But what makes the situation most annoying is that Rangers' debt, by comparison to those in England is small. Rangers were as good as put up for sale by Lloyds TSB because of a debt of £30 million which is a lot of money by anyone's reckoning. Yet Everton, a team who's bank balances are admired by most in England as being stable for a Premiership team, are also £30 million.
I hate money in football. It makes everything unfair. It means that a team can, under the right process, buy success. I know it is not as easy as that (ie Manchester City, QPR, Hoffenheim, Gretna) but it does certainly help. In 1967, Celtic won the European Cup, Rangers got to the an European final and Kilmarnock (yes, Kilmarnock) got to a semi-final. Today, this would never happen. How can there be equality in football when England has four teams in the "Champions" League? I am going off on a tangent here, but the point is football - like banks - should really ought to be regulated. Self-regulation, as we have seen with Portsmouth and Leeds, simply does not work.
There are many ways this could be done; transfer limits, price caps etc. It will never happen though, which really is a shame. As most Portsmouth fans are probably feeling the pain of their club's over-ambition.
DC x
I see Portsmouth have fallen into administration, yet I do not feel sorry for them at all, really. Not because of my family ties to Southampton, though that has meant I have always found a reason to not like Portsmouth, but because their demise seems fitting a punishment for what was essentially cheating. By vastly over-spending on players they could not afford, Portsmouth for a year or two lived the dream. Winning the FA Cup was arguably the best day in the club's history, as were the consequences of winning the Cup. Their entry into the UEFA Cup granted Portsmouth a glamorous visit from AC Milan.
Obviously one feels sympathy for the Portsmouth fans - I know if Celtic were in a similar mess I would be devastated - but the fact is the ambition (or greed, dependant on your outlook) was not victimless. For a start, Cardiff City were denied winning the FA Cup because of the unfair playing field. Should they be given the trophy retrospectively, such as the case in Italy after the match-fixing scandal? It would be pointless. Portsmouth FC may be ruined but the memories can never be taken away. You can give Cardiff the trophy but you can't give them that European night when Ronaldinho and Kaka went to Cardiff can you?
The debt of the Premiership - which by all accounts is extraordinary - is frustrating because of the unfair playing field it creates. The crisis of Portsmouth is, albeit more extreme, similar to the financial worries of Rangers up here in Scotland. Rangers are effectively being controlled by Lloyds TSB, with the entire squad effectively up for sale. It seems they too are paying the price for the over-zealous buying under Dick Advocaat in the late 1990/early 2000s. Looking back, the purchases of Advocaat - £12 million for Tore Andre Flo, £6 million for Michael Ball - are, for want of a better word, stupid.
But what makes the situation most annoying is that Rangers' debt, by comparison to those in England is small. Rangers were as good as put up for sale by Lloyds TSB because of a debt of £30 million which is a lot of money by anyone's reckoning. Yet Everton, a team who's bank balances are admired by most in England as being stable for a Premiership team, are also £30 million.
I hate money in football. It makes everything unfair. It means that a team can, under the right process, buy success. I know it is not as easy as that (ie Manchester City, QPR, Hoffenheim, Gretna) but it does certainly help. In 1967, Celtic won the European Cup, Rangers got to the an European final and Kilmarnock (yes, Kilmarnock) got to a semi-final. Today, this would never happen. How can there be equality in football when England has four teams in the "Champions" League? I am going off on a tangent here, but the point is football - like banks - should really ought to be regulated. Self-regulation, as we have seen with Portsmouth and Leeds, simply does not work.
There are many ways this could be done; transfer limits, price caps etc. It will never happen though, which really is a shame. As most Portsmouth fans are probably feeling the pain of their club's over-ambition.
DC x
Thursday 25 February 2010
Sleeping Sickness
Hey,
One thing I hate about being student (though there aren't many things I hate to be fair) is the sleeping pattern that one experiences, especially a social science such as myself. I am writing this blog entry at 00:52 on Thursday morning. A year ago, to be awake at this time on a school night would be unimaginable; now it's the norm.
It's due mainly I think to my timetable, which is very generous regarding when I actually have to be in Uni. For example, Tuesday is my earliest start. I start at midday on a Tuesday. This is great for nights out and the like, but I secretly (well, not secretly anymore, I've just wrote it in a blog for goodness sake) would like a return to a normal pattern. I miss being tired before the end of Question Time. I miss having lunch at lunchtime instead of breakfast. The irony is that the only time I had a return to this body clock was at Christmas when I worked in Morrisons. Do I have to compromise my mental state in exchange for a standard nine hours sleep? It's quite an interesting dilemma. On the face of it, I would not swap the life I've got right now; I play hockey with some great people, doing a course I really enjoy and have met some really good people since I've moved to Glasgow, a city which is so vibrant with terrific night life and a football stadium literally yards away from my Halls.
On the other hand, I miss Ben Shepherd's face in the morning. I cannot pin-point why I miss GMTV. It's not that great a television show (excluding the regular appearances of Dappy, which are always both bizarre and fantastic), and the bits I feel the urge to slag off (Lorraine Kelly, no offence) I can't because I've never seen them due to the show's regular time table. It just provided a clear structure to my day, an introduction. In Glasgow I wake up at random times and (occasionally) places.
I could make a compromise. I could just get up early, get the best of both worlds. But I struggle getting up with my alarm clock ("Riverside, Motherfukkkkkkka!!" if you are interested) in the morning as it is. Oh well, I'll just wait until the summer where work is back to normal, none of this degree nonsense.
In other news, my day was improved on Sunday by a reply on Twitter by Dave Gorman. Cool eh? If you don't know who he is, he's a comedian and a funny one too. The transcript of said tweets between me and Gorman are actually fairly dull, but if you want to see them go on my twitter. It's next to this article. Which is quite handy.
Remember the piece I wrote about the Superbowl? Well, if you go to Glasgow Uni feel free to pick up a copy of the Glasgow Guardian where you'll find it in this week's edition! I had to trim it a wee bit, a thousand words on American football was a bit much, but even so, it's good to be published. The copies are being posted the grandparents, obviously.
The Winter Olympics is fast becoming similar to the bag full of washing lying in the corner of my bedroom. I know I should deal with it, ultimately doing it would improve my life, albeit in the short term. Yet I just cannot get into watching it. I could watch clips of it on Youtube, but to be honest I just do not find it interesting. Which annoys me. Speaking to Nordic people in one of my classes the other day who loved ice hockey just made me wonder if I am the only one who just doesn't care about these games? I've started calling it the "Eurosport Games" as opposed to the Winter Olympics, for in my opinion it is just the sports you get on channel 410 (is it still that on Sky? It has been a while) that you flick past automatically, only to be annoyed because it is on HD too and your channel flicking process is temporarily stalled. That could just be me.
Anyways, I'm going to get some sleep now, or at least try to. It's 01:12, the day is still young...
DC x
One thing I hate about being student (though there aren't many things I hate to be fair) is the sleeping pattern that one experiences, especially a social science such as myself. I am writing this blog entry at 00:52 on Thursday morning. A year ago, to be awake at this time on a school night would be unimaginable; now it's the norm.
It's due mainly I think to my timetable, which is very generous regarding when I actually have to be in Uni. For example, Tuesday is my earliest start. I start at midday on a Tuesday. This is great for nights out and the like, but I secretly (well, not secretly anymore, I've just wrote it in a blog for goodness sake) would like a return to a normal pattern. I miss being tired before the end of Question Time. I miss having lunch at lunchtime instead of breakfast. The irony is that the only time I had a return to this body clock was at Christmas when I worked in Morrisons. Do I have to compromise my mental state in exchange for a standard nine hours sleep? It's quite an interesting dilemma. On the face of it, I would not swap the life I've got right now; I play hockey with some great people, doing a course I really enjoy and have met some really good people since I've moved to Glasgow, a city which is so vibrant with terrific night life and a football stadium literally yards away from my Halls.
On the other hand, I miss Ben Shepherd's face in the morning. I cannot pin-point why I miss GMTV. It's not that great a television show (excluding the regular appearances of Dappy, which are always both bizarre and fantastic), and the bits I feel the urge to slag off (Lorraine Kelly, no offence) I can't because I've never seen them due to the show's regular time table. It just provided a clear structure to my day, an introduction. In Glasgow I wake up at random times and (occasionally) places.
I could make a compromise. I could just get up early, get the best of both worlds. But I struggle getting up with my alarm clock ("Riverside, Motherfukkkkkkka!!" if you are interested) in the morning as it is. Oh well, I'll just wait until the summer where work is back to normal, none of this degree nonsense.
In other news, my day was improved on Sunday by a reply on Twitter by Dave Gorman. Cool eh? If you don't know who he is, he's a comedian and a funny one too. The transcript of said tweets between me and Gorman are actually fairly dull, but if you want to see them go on my twitter. It's next to this article. Which is quite handy.
Remember the piece I wrote about the Superbowl? Well, if you go to Glasgow Uni feel free to pick up a copy of the Glasgow Guardian where you'll find it in this week's edition! I had to trim it a wee bit, a thousand words on American football was a bit much, but even so, it's good to be published. The copies are being posted the grandparents, obviously.
The Winter Olympics is fast becoming similar to the bag full of washing lying in the corner of my bedroom. I know I should deal with it, ultimately doing it would improve my life, albeit in the short term. Yet I just cannot get into watching it. I could watch clips of it on Youtube, but to be honest I just do not find it interesting. Which annoys me. Speaking to Nordic people in one of my classes the other day who loved ice hockey just made me wonder if I am the only one who just doesn't care about these games? I've started calling it the "Eurosport Games" as opposed to the Winter Olympics, for in my opinion it is just the sports you get on channel 410 (is it still that on Sky? It has been a while) that you flick past automatically, only to be annoyed because it is on HD too and your channel flicking process is temporarily stalled. That could just be me.
Anyways, I'm going to get some sleep now, or at least try to. It's 01:12, the day is still young...
DC x
Sunday 21 February 2010
Mushick.
Hey,
My canvas is well and truly blank today - most of today was spent during research for a politics essay. As fun as that was it has shattered my creativity and my enthusiasm to write anything of any substance. So instead I will fill this will mindless, numb, words. I'm just going to put a list of all the songs I listen to the now, you can maybe go and listen to them yourself, if you like them that's great. If you don't, no surprises. It's mainly emo anyway.
1) The Sadness Will Never End - Bring Me the Horizon
2) When I Get Home You're So Dead - Mayday Parade
3) The Comedian - Blitz Kids
4) XO - Fall Out Boy
5) Bleed American - Jimmy Eat World
6) Discovering the Waterfront - Silverstein
7) Check Yes Juliet (Acoustic) - We the Kings
8) Stay Together for the Kids - Blink 182
9) See You at the Disco - Luke Pickett
10) Kiss and Tell - You Me At Six
11) Edinburgh - The Audition
12) A Decade Under the Influence - Taking Back Sunday
13) Homecoming - Hey Monday
14) Southern Weather - The Almost
15) Misguided Ghosts - Paramore
16) This Could Be Anywhere in the World - Alexisonfire
17) Semi-Mental - Biffy Clyro
18) Children of the Night - The Blackout
19) For Sure - Lostprophets
20) Collapse (Post-Amerika) - Rise Against
It's just a list. You can do what you want with it, most likely ignore it. I'd prefer if you did not ignore it, like listen to them on Youtube or download them illegally. Whatever the youth do these days. I'm sure I'll have more to write soon, blog standards have been bog standard of late. Apologies.
DC x
My canvas is well and truly blank today - most of today was spent during research for a politics essay. As fun as that was it has shattered my creativity and my enthusiasm to write anything of any substance. So instead I will fill this will mindless, numb, words. I'm just going to put a list of all the songs I listen to the now, you can maybe go and listen to them yourself, if you like them that's great. If you don't, no surprises. It's mainly emo anyway.
1) The Sadness Will Never End - Bring Me the Horizon
2) When I Get Home You're So Dead - Mayday Parade
3) The Comedian - Blitz Kids
4) XO - Fall Out Boy
5) Bleed American - Jimmy Eat World
6) Discovering the Waterfront - Silverstein
7) Check Yes Juliet (Acoustic) - We the Kings
8) Stay Together for the Kids - Blink 182
9) See You at the Disco - Luke Pickett
10) Kiss and Tell - You Me At Six
11) Edinburgh - The Audition
12) A Decade Under the Influence - Taking Back Sunday
13) Homecoming - Hey Monday
14) Southern Weather - The Almost
15) Misguided Ghosts - Paramore
16) This Could Be Anywhere in the World - Alexisonfire
17) Semi-Mental - Biffy Clyro
18) Children of the Night - The Blackout
19) For Sure - Lostprophets
20) Collapse (Post-Amerika) - Rise Against
It's just a list. You can do what you want with it, most likely ignore it. I'd prefer if you did not ignore it, like listen to them on Youtube or download them illegally. Whatever the youth do these days. I'm sure I'll have more to write soon, blog standards have been bog standard of late. Apologies.
DC x
Saturday 20 February 2010
Landan and Tories.
Hey,
Currently, the year below are in London, on their S6 school trip. I'm sure they will be having an awesome time, and it seems bizarre that this time last year I was doing all the things they are doing. As I type someone is probably playing "Laser Quest". Shooting a teacher. Living the dream.
What their time in London has made me think of most is just how fast technology has advanced. OK, it has only been a year, but there has been little, subtle advances in communications which just kind of gone unnoticed. For a start, I know where and what they are doing by fairly frequent Facebook status updates. I know Facebook Mobile is not a new thing, yet it just seems that it is around us (or should I say me) more. It may just be paranoia or old age. I ramble.
I think I may be right to think that it technology is advancing all the time and Twitter supports this argument. As the socially inept toolbox that I am I overcompensate by joining every social newtworking trend, ie the love affairs with MSN, Bebo, Facebook etc. Twitter is no exception. Yet when I was in London I was not on Twitter, and look at how big it is now. That is the base of my crappy little argument.
In other news, I spent last evening watching "Question Time", which was really good since it was in a town hit by the recession, Middlesbrough. What the program struck home most was the clear north/south divide in the country, both politically and economically. I knew this already, but it has never been as obvious as it was in the show. Due to political balance, the top parties and the Lib Dems (I'm joking by the way) get to field a representative. The Conservatives representative was effectively a party member, potentially an MP come May. In other words, he did not generally seem too high-up in the Party, which for me summed up attitudes to the North from the Conservatives and visa-versa. Do they care about the north? Do they care about Scotland? This, and many reasons are why I'll never vote Conservatives. To put it nicely, it's alternative interests.
Jeez, I went all political there. Sorry. Oh well, until we meet again.
DC x
Twitter
Currently, the year below are in London, on their S6 school trip. I'm sure they will be having an awesome time, and it seems bizarre that this time last year I was doing all the things they are doing. As I type someone is probably playing "Laser Quest". Shooting a teacher. Living the dream.
What their time in London has made me think of most is just how fast technology has advanced. OK, it has only been a year, but there has been little, subtle advances in communications which just kind of gone unnoticed. For a start, I know where and what they are doing by fairly frequent Facebook status updates. I know Facebook Mobile is not a new thing, yet it just seems that it is around us (or should I say me) more. It may just be paranoia or old age. I ramble.
I think I may be right to think that it technology is advancing all the time and Twitter supports this argument. As the socially inept toolbox that I am I overcompensate by joining every social newtworking trend, ie the love affairs with MSN, Bebo, Facebook etc. Twitter is no exception. Yet when I was in London I was not on Twitter, and look at how big it is now. That is the base of my crappy little argument.
In other news, I spent last evening watching "Question Time", which was really good since it was in a town hit by the recession, Middlesbrough. What the program struck home most was the clear north/south divide in the country, both politically and economically. I knew this already, but it has never been as obvious as it was in the show. Due to political balance, the top parties and the Lib Dems (I'm joking by the way) get to field a representative. The Conservatives representative was effectively a party member, potentially an MP come May. In other words, he did not generally seem too high-up in the Party, which for me summed up attitudes to the North from the Conservatives and visa-versa. Do they care about the north? Do they care about Scotland? This, and many reasons are why I'll never vote Conservatives. To put it nicely, it's alternative interests.
Jeez, I went all political there. Sorry. Oh well, until we meet again.
DC x
Friday 19 February 2010
Eastenders.
Hey,
Apparently there was something important happening in "Eastenders" tonight. I wouldn't know because I don't watch the soap that often, it's the television equivalent of looking in one of those "House of Mirrors" and seeing a glimpse of yourself which is far from positive.
I am not alone in this disposition towards "Eastenders". Yet ratings for tonight's show will be as high as they have been in recent years. Why is this so? Is it because it's the 25th anniversary? Is it because as a nation we have been gripped by this classic "who done it" storyline?
No. Everyone watched it tonight because it was live. And when there is live TV there is, inevitably, mistakes. These are soap actors, after all, they can't just act like turning on a tap! You cannot just "become" a ginger guy with a murderous streak (or not, as I have been told). No, no, no. Live TV can be cringe worthy, with accidents and fumbling of lines aplenty. Which means that if something did go wrong, we could all watch it. And it would be bloody hilarious, too. Imagine if Pat Butcher just blurted out "COCK!" by accident. Like, "Ricky (is he still in that show?), pass the cock book! Err I mean cook book!". Television would never be the same again.
It's this morbid interest in accidents and disasters that keeps viewers interested and, to be honest, I'm surprised the major soaps haven't done it more. Disasters on live TV is a huge winner, unless you are an Arsenal fan in which case, it's worked against you this week. But the potential, if not the recipe, for disaster keeps eyes on the screen. I am pretty convinced "Dancing on Ice" will only stay on our screens if someone has a nasty accident. Soon. I mean, five series or so of Torvil and Dean needs an extreme edge, otherwise we would be knocked out cold by Philip Scholefield's banter.
Which leads me quickly onto the Winter Olympics. As keen a follower I am of sports, this entire spectacle, as in most years, has just flown past me. I don't have a TV, plus it is on at awkward times (damn Canadians). All I know is that Britain haven't won anything yet. Which means the Curling hasn't started yet, in other words.
DC x
Apparently there was something important happening in "Eastenders" tonight. I wouldn't know because I don't watch the soap that often, it's the television equivalent of looking in one of those "House of Mirrors" and seeing a glimpse of yourself which is far from positive.
I am not alone in this disposition towards "Eastenders". Yet ratings for tonight's show will be as high as they have been in recent years. Why is this so? Is it because it's the 25th anniversary? Is it because as a nation we have been gripped by this classic "who done it" storyline?
No. Everyone watched it tonight because it was live. And when there is live TV there is, inevitably, mistakes. These are soap actors, after all, they can't just act like turning on a tap! You cannot just "become" a ginger guy with a murderous streak (or not, as I have been told). No, no, no. Live TV can be cringe worthy, with accidents and fumbling of lines aplenty. Which means that if something did go wrong, we could all watch it. And it would be bloody hilarious, too. Imagine if Pat Butcher just blurted out "COCK!" by accident. Like, "Ricky (is he still in that show?), pass the cock book! Err I mean cook book!". Television would never be the same again.
It's this morbid interest in accidents and disasters that keeps viewers interested and, to be honest, I'm surprised the major soaps haven't done it more. Disasters on live TV is a huge winner, unless you are an Arsenal fan in which case, it's worked against you this week. But the potential, if not the recipe, for disaster keeps eyes on the screen. I am pretty convinced "Dancing on Ice" will only stay on our screens if someone has a nasty accident. Soon. I mean, five series or so of Torvil and Dean needs an extreme edge, otherwise we would be knocked out cold by Philip Scholefield's banter.
Which leads me quickly onto the Winter Olympics. As keen a follower I am of sports, this entire spectacle, as in most years, has just flown past me. I don't have a TV, plus it is on at awkward times (damn Canadians). All I know is that Britain haven't won anything yet. Which means the Curling hasn't started yet, in other words.
DC x
Cheese.
Hey,
So, on the way back from Uni the other day I went into to the new Tesco on Byers Road, eagerly hoping to find Primula Cheese (long story - well, no it's not, it's a fairly short story, but one which would mean you would probably think less of me. Don't worry, it's nothing perverse, it would just reveal one aspect of my bizarre eating habits. This bracket has made you curious on what I use Primula for, hasn't it? I'm not going to reveal my cheesy secret, hell no).
Anyway.
I searched around the new shop to find this cheese, but to no avail. I looked everywhere. Even where the CDs are, and they weren't there either. After much searching and the eventual embarrassing feature of a lost shopper - the asking of a member of staff who cares as much about your cheese-need than you do about how today is the "Crazy Chilli Showdown" in Mineral Wells, Texas (thank you Simpsons calendar of pointless information). Having looked in all shops on my route home from campus the previous days, my possible options to find Primula lead me to one final shop; Waitrose.
Waitrose is still relatively new to Byres Road, replacing the Somerfield which stood there previously. Up until yesterday the caste system has kept me out. I have heard many things of Waitrose to suggest it was some sort of supermarket for Emperors or Monarchs.
But it is not. Apart from unusually low roofs and dashingly well-dressed staff (I use the term "dashingly" loosely, but compared to my fish-counter fiasco of 2007 anything is an improvement). The food, albeit a bit more expensive than other places, was not as extravagant as I had in my ignorant head. Most importantly, they had Primula Cheese. And that is good in my books.
But enough about cheese. I can't believe I wrote a blog dedicated to a Supermarket and something that smells a bit. Oh wait, I did that for a whole summer.
DC x
So, on the way back from Uni the other day I went into to the new Tesco on Byers Road, eagerly hoping to find Primula Cheese (long story - well, no it's not, it's a fairly short story, but one which would mean you would probably think less of me. Don't worry, it's nothing perverse, it would just reveal one aspect of my bizarre eating habits. This bracket has made you curious on what I use Primula for, hasn't it? I'm not going to reveal my cheesy secret, hell no).
Anyway.
I searched around the new shop to find this cheese, but to no avail. I looked everywhere. Even where the CDs are, and they weren't there either. After much searching and the eventual embarrassing feature of a lost shopper - the asking of a member of staff who cares as much about your cheese-need than you do about how today is the "Crazy Chilli Showdown" in Mineral Wells, Texas (thank you Simpsons calendar of pointless information). Having looked in all shops on my route home from campus the previous days, my possible options to find Primula lead me to one final shop; Waitrose.
Waitrose is still relatively new to Byres Road, replacing the Somerfield which stood there previously. Up until yesterday the caste system has kept me out. I have heard many things of Waitrose to suggest it was some sort of supermarket for Emperors or Monarchs.
But it is not. Apart from unusually low roofs and dashingly well-dressed staff (I use the term "dashingly" loosely, but compared to my fish-counter fiasco of 2007 anything is an improvement). The food, albeit a bit more expensive than other places, was not as extravagant as I had in my ignorant head. Most importantly, they had Primula Cheese. And that is good in my books.
But enough about cheese. I can't believe I wrote a blog dedicated to a Supermarket and something that smells a bit. Oh wait, I did that for a whole summer.
DC x
Tuesday 16 February 2010
Goodnight, Irene.
Hey,
You probably did not get the reference in the title, did you? I thought not. You're so ignorant. I don't know why I bother sometimes.
Wait come back. I was clearly joking, because "Goodnight Irene" is the anthem of the lesser known football team I support. The mighty Bristol Rovers FC. Surprisingly, they are not that well known, especially up here in Scotland. Surprising, because they are the second best team in Bristol, albeit out of two. They play in the third tier of English football and very seldom get on air time or even column inches. Even on my blog. Even Scouting For Girls have been on my blog.
But last night was different; infront of a packed Memorial Stadium Rovers' home match versus Charlton was screened on Sky Sports One. this in itself is a minor miracle as we (I shall refer to Bristol Rovers as "we" now) have not been on TV for two years. And unlike the other team I support, Celtic (who?) they actually won! I cheered so loud when they scored my flatmate thought something wrong had happened becasue she overheard. This story deserves far more detail then I am supplying, but I am in a rush because the Milan-Manchester United game is about to start! Hopefully this is not the last time I write about Rovers, and hopefully it's the last time time I write about Scouting For Girls.
Sorry by the way Scouting For Girls, nothing personal. Honestly.
DC x
You probably did not get the reference in the title, did you? I thought not. You're so ignorant. I don't know why I bother sometimes.
Wait come back. I was clearly joking, because "Goodnight Irene" is the anthem of the lesser known football team I support. The mighty Bristol Rovers FC. Surprisingly, they are not that well known, especially up here in Scotland. Surprising, because they are the second best team in Bristol, albeit out of two. They play in the third tier of English football and very seldom get on air time or even column inches. Even on my blog. Even Scouting For Girls have been on my blog.
But last night was different; infront of a packed Memorial Stadium Rovers' home match versus Charlton was screened on Sky Sports One. this in itself is a minor miracle as we (I shall refer to Bristol Rovers as "we" now) have not been on TV for two years. And unlike the other team I support, Celtic (who?) they actually won! I cheered so loud when they scored my flatmate thought something wrong had happened becasue she overheard. This story deserves far more detail then I am supplying, but I am in a rush because the Milan-Manchester United game is about to start! Hopefully this is not the last time I write about Rovers, and hopefully it's the last time time I write about Scouting For Girls.
Sorry by the way Scouting For Girls, nothing personal. Honestly.
DC x
Sunday 14 February 2010
What Impact Did Unemployment Have on Interwar Society?
Hey,
Sorry for my blog avoidance in the last week, that thing called "University" crept up again and told me to write about unemployment up until 1939. Yeah I know. But at least it is finished now, which means I can do more important stuff, like write my thoughts for my fans*! If it is any consolation this is the first thing I have done since finishing my essay 23 minutes ago. So there.
The problem is that over the last week, rather than taking notes on important things such as Hustle (not Hustler as I had previously referred to, which means prowling for gay sex apparently. It makes poor TV). Instead I have had statistics in my head, and journals, and books, and references. For it to be finished is sweet. As I was saying, I have no notes so I am just going by my twitter updates and I'll add meat to those snippets of 140 characters.
Right ok, some things which crept up in my tweets then:
1) Hollyoaks
Ah yes, Hollyoaks. It is fine television, so it is. Previously I had only ever watched the night-time specials a few months back, when there was a terrible parachute-lesbian-psychopath storyline. With that storyline gone, the show remains fairly idiotic but still appealing. It is candid without intentionally being so. The acting is poor, the scenes which are meant to shock you do the opposite (I'm sorry but apart from Joe Calzaghe, Welsh people cannot be that hard. Fact). You know a show cannot be that great when it is merely a platform for Nuts/ITV reality TV. Still, at least we don't have to pay for it, unlike...
2)BBC Three
The retirement ground of Atomic Kitten, BBC Three is funny like Hollyoaks until you realise it's license fee money that pays for it. Three shows stick in the throat; "Coming of Age" - an immature version of "The Inbetweeners" but without the comedy and with canned laughter; "Hotter Than My Daughter" - a show where deluded, often naked, 40 year old mothers genuinely believe they are more attractive than their offspring and "Snog Marry or Avoid", where ironically, you would choose to avoid most of the girls on the show, even after their "makeunder" (see what they did there? As opposed to "makeover". That is clever that is). What is more startling about "Snog Marry or Avoid" is the Pod which gives the fashion advice. It is like the computer from 2001 Space Odyssey but with the personality of Gok Wan. In other words, just plain weird.
3)Hockey
Believe it or not I actually like to write about more than just television. I do occasionally have a life. Rather, I hire a life and use it every now and then (things such as festivals, going out etc) and then I return it to Blockbuster so I can get back to my normal quiet existence, revolving around BBC Three and Glee. But yesterday also saw the return of competitive hockey into my life, which was great. In our first match since the end of November due to the winter break, the team I play for (Glasgow Uni IIs) won 7-2. Fantastic score and the team played really well especially in the second half. Despite being a hockey team on Thursday we play football for fitness, which is also really fun. Despite my illustrious career as a semi-professional footballer (two unused sub appearances for Fort William FC, I will have you know), it appears I am not the left back I once was.
That's about it, really. Unless you want to read my essay on interwar society - which you are free to do by the way - that has been my week. Oh, unless you count the fact I tweeted my 1000th tweet yesterday. Yeah, I told you I just hired a life.
DC x
*"Fans" means my Mum.
Sorry for my blog avoidance in the last week, that thing called "University" crept up again and told me to write about unemployment up until 1939. Yeah I know. But at least it is finished now, which means I can do more important stuff, like write my thoughts for my fans*! If it is any consolation this is the first thing I have done since finishing my essay 23 minutes ago. So there.
The problem is that over the last week, rather than taking notes on important things such as Hustle (not Hustler as I had previously referred to, which means prowling for gay sex apparently. It makes poor TV). Instead I have had statistics in my head, and journals, and books, and references. For it to be finished is sweet. As I was saying, I have no notes so I am just going by my twitter updates and I'll add meat to those snippets of 140 characters.
Right ok, some things which crept up in my tweets then:
1) Hollyoaks
Ah yes, Hollyoaks. It is fine television, so it is. Previously I had only ever watched the night-time specials a few months back, when there was a terrible parachute-lesbian-psychopath storyline. With that storyline gone, the show remains fairly idiotic but still appealing. It is candid without intentionally being so. The acting is poor, the scenes which are meant to shock you do the opposite (I'm sorry but apart from Joe Calzaghe, Welsh people cannot be that hard. Fact). You know a show cannot be that great when it is merely a platform for Nuts/ITV reality TV. Still, at least we don't have to pay for it, unlike...
2)BBC Three
The retirement ground of Atomic Kitten, BBC Three is funny like Hollyoaks until you realise it's license fee money that pays for it. Three shows stick in the throat; "Coming of Age" - an immature version of "The Inbetweeners" but without the comedy and with canned laughter; "Hotter Than My Daughter" - a show where deluded, often naked, 40 year old mothers genuinely believe they are more attractive than their offspring and "Snog Marry or Avoid", where ironically, you would choose to avoid most of the girls on the show, even after their "makeunder" (see what they did there? As opposed to "makeover". That is clever that is). What is more startling about "Snog Marry or Avoid" is the Pod which gives the fashion advice. It is like the computer from 2001 Space Odyssey but with the personality of Gok Wan. In other words, just plain weird.
3)Hockey
Believe it or not I actually like to write about more than just television. I do occasionally have a life. Rather, I hire a life and use it every now and then (things such as festivals, going out etc) and then I return it to Blockbuster so I can get back to my normal quiet existence, revolving around BBC Three and Glee. But yesterday also saw the return of competitive hockey into my life, which was great. In our first match since the end of November due to the winter break, the team I play for (Glasgow Uni IIs) won 7-2. Fantastic score and the team played really well especially in the second half. Despite being a hockey team on Thursday we play football for fitness, which is also really fun. Despite my illustrious career as a semi-professional footballer (two unused sub appearances for Fort William FC, I will have you know), it appears I am not the left back I once was.
That's about it, really. Unless you want to read my essay on interwar society - which you are free to do by the way - that has been my week. Oh, unless you count the fact I tweeted my 1000th tweet yesterday. Yeah, I told you I just hired a life.
DC x
*"Fans" means my Mum.
Monday 8 February 2010
Superbawl.
Hey,
So then, Superbowl XLIV. Did you watch it? If so, did you know exactly what was going on, or did you just look in to see what the fuss was going on? I was a mixture of both; I had a fair grasp of the rules of American Football, courtesy of owing NFL Madden 2000 on the Playstation and that sleep had deserted me on Sunday night / Monday morning.
The Superbowl is like the finale of a television show which you have never seen before. You know that it is big in the US, and that from all reports is kind of a big deal so you should really watch it so you have a vague idea of what had happened, thus ensuring that you aren’t the idiot who doesn’t have a clue on what happened when you go to your lectures on Monday. In that regard it is a bit like Glee. However, like watching a TV show from cold, it takes a while to warm to the main characters. For instance, it is hard to feel any strong emotions towards Patton Manning, until you realise he is the latest in a family famous for quarter backs and is in search of his fourth Superbowl winner’s ring (let’s face it, a winner’s ring is far cooler than a medal; you can’t exactly wear a medal to work can you? Trust me, I’ve tried).
In some aspects, the Superbowl is the essence of “the American Dream”; it’s brash, loud, super-sized and commercialised (a thirty second advert during the game is estimated to cost $2.6 million). The half-time show is worth staying up to 1am on its own. This year, The Who played during the interval. The Who for crying out loud! Imagine if the Champions League final had a brief interlude with a set from The Rolling Stones? It’s unimaginable, and it just wouldn’t feel right. The mind wanders to the Twenty20 Cup final which had a half-time show performed by the Sugababes (old Sugababes, you know when at least one of the original members was there, I forgot who though). It was just a bit bizarre when you realise they are a warm-up act for the Surrey Brown Caps chasing 130 on a flat track.
Yet the Superbowl spectacle is possibly one which we sceptical British folk can relate to if only we can admit to it. For a start, unlike all the other major sports in the US, the Superbowl is a final and not a “best of” series such as the World Series in baseball or the Stanley Cup in Ice Hockey. This brings it in line with “our” (I use the term “our” loosely to describe rugby, football etc) sports, which focus on a grand finale of such.
Watching the national anthem at the beginning of the game instantly brought my mind back to rugby union, with the coincidental start of the Six Nations on the same weekend. The pride and patriotism from the fans in Miami was not too dissimilar to hearing a packed Millennium Stadium singing “Land of My Fathers” or hearing “Flower of Scotland” sung by 65, 000 Scots in unison. Superbowl brings the country together the way a big international football match brings a nation together, and this can’t be a bad thing, can it?
To joke about the blatant advertising in the Superbowl (which is brought to you by Bridgestone, by the way) seems to be a touch hypocritical when “our” sports appear to be just as bad; e.g the Heineken Cup or the Coca Cola League Championship. It is even subtle for goodness sake. What is interesting to note is that the player kits worn by both teams and all NFL franchises have no sponsorships on them, unlike football shirts which are now effectively mobile billboards.
Of course, the sport does itself no favours having “franchises” as opposed to teams. Those who simply do not like NFL can criticise its flexibility that the Colts simply picked up sticks one day and moved from Baltimore to Indianapolis. Apparently, this means a franchise is devoid of history, of roots to a city to the way a football club has. But really, who needs history? If the Premiership could be as flexible as the NFL it would be. The desire for a “39th Game” abroad was inspired by the NFL’s annual international game in London, and shot down by our ugly British scepticism. American Football, of course, is not restricted to America; as well as NFL Europe - a league which was graced by the presence of the Scottish Claymores until a few years ago – the international game at Wembley is a huge event. For the 2009 game between the Saints and the Chargers the first 45,000 tickets available sold out in just ninety minutes.
The game itself was actually very interesting, despite my increasing tiredness creeping in. Complicated, yes, but interesting nonetheless. It is a game of strategy, tactics and planning, just like football or rugby or cricket. Just because I did not know the technical terms and the ins and outs (I will probably never know what “unnecessary roughness” is) it didn’t fail to spoil my enjoyment.
So, at the end of a long night, it was the New Orleans Saints who were triumphant, winning 31-17. What the night proved for me though is that this game is a) immensely popular and b) far more entertaining than I thought it would be (though the performance by The Who helped a wee bit). It made me wonder, is it us who are the ignorant ones for not taking this game as seriously as we should?
DC x
So then, Superbowl XLIV. Did you watch it? If so, did you know exactly what was going on, or did you just look in to see what the fuss was going on? I was a mixture of both; I had a fair grasp of the rules of American Football, courtesy of owing NFL Madden 2000 on the Playstation and that sleep had deserted me on Sunday night / Monday morning.
The Superbowl is like the finale of a television show which you have never seen before. You know that it is big in the US, and that from all reports is kind of a big deal so you should really watch it so you have a vague idea of what had happened, thus ensuring that you aren’t the idiot who doesn’t have a clue on what happened when you go to your lectures on Monday. In that regard it is a bit like Glee. However, like watching a TV show from cold, it takes a while to warm to the main characters. For instance, it is hard to feel any strong emotions towards Patton Manning, until you realise he is the latest in a family famous for quarter backs and is in search of his fourth Superbowl winner’s ring (let’s face it, a winner’s ring is far cooler than a medal; you can’t exactly wear a medal to work can you? Trust me, I’ve tried).
In some aspects, the Superbowl is the essence of “the American Dream”; it’s brash, loud, super-sized and commercialised (a thirty second advert during the game is estimated to cost $2.6 million). The half-time show is worth staying up to 1am on its own. This year, The Who played during the interval. The Who for crying out loud! Imagine if the Champions League final had a brief interlude with a set from The Rolling Stones? It’s unimaginable, and it just wouldn’t feel right. The mind wanders to the Twenty20 Cup final which had a half-time show performed by the Sugababes (old Sugababes, you know when at least one of the original members was there, I forgot who though). It was just a bit bizarre when you realise they are a warm-up act for the Surrey Brown Caps chasing 130 on a flat track.
Yet the Superbowl spectacle is possibly one which we sceptical British folk can relate to if only we can admit to it. For a start, unlike all the other major sports in the US, the Superbowl is a final and not a “best of” series such as the World Series in baseball or the Stanley Cup in Ice Hockey. This brings it in line with “our” (I use the term “our” loosely to describe rugby, football etc) sports, which focus on a grand finale of such.
Watching the national anthem at the beginning of the game instantly brought my mind back to rugby union, with the coincidental start of the Six Nations on the same weekend. The pride and patriotism from the fans in Miami was not too dissimilar to hearing a packed Millennium Stadium singing “Land of My Fathers” or hearing “Flower of Scotland” sung by 65, 000 Scots in unison. Superbowl brings the country together the way a big international football match brings a nation together, and this can’t be a bad thing, can it?
To joke about the blatant advertising in the Superbowl (which is brought to you by Bridgestone, by the way) seems to be a touch hypocritical when “our” sports appear to be just as bad; e.g the Heineken Cup or the Coca Cola League Championship. It is even subtle for goodness sake. What is interesting to note is that the player kits worn by both teams and all NFL franchises have no sponsorships on them, unlike football shirts which are now effectively mobile billboards.
Of course, the sport does itself no favours having “franchises” as opposed to teams. Those who simply do not like NFL can criticise its flexibility that the Colts simply picked up sticks one day and moved from Baltimore to Indianapolis. Apparently, this means a franchise is devoid of history, of roots to a city to the way a football club has. But really, who needs history? If the Premiership could be as flexible as the NFL it would be. The desire for a “39th Game” abroad was inspired by the NFL’s annual international game in London, and shot down by our ugly British scepticism. American Football, of course, is not restricted to America; as well as NFL Europe - a league which was graced by the presence of the Scottish Claymores until a few years ago – the international game at Wembley is a huge event. For the 2009 game between the Saints and the Chargers the first 45,000 tickets available sold out in just ninety minutes.
The game itself was actually very interesting, despite my increasing tiredness creeping in. Complicated, yes, but interesting nonetheless. It is a game of strategy, tactics and planning, just like football or rugby or cricket. Just because I did not know the technical terms and the ins and outs (I will probably never know what “unnecessary roughness” is) it didn’t fail to spoil my enjoyment.
So, at the end of a long night, it was the New Orleans Saints who were triumphant, winning 31-17. What the night proved for me though is that this game is a) immensely popular and b) far more entertaining than I thought it would be (though the performance by The Who helped a wee bit). It made me wonder, is it us who are the ignorant ones for not taking this game as seriously as we should?
DC x
Friday 5 February 2010
Blogs for an Accerlated Culture.
Hey,
Can you by any chance fetch me a mop? The blood from my slit wrists is going everywhere. And on the laptop too. Aww crap it's gonna break again...
A bit extreme, perhaps. But this is the closest metaphor I could find to display my raw emotion as my ears and eyes - which, by the way were once my favourite senses - were unfairly punished by the atrocity of Jedward's new single. I don't really know what is worse; the fact that Freddie Mercury is not alive to experience this monstrosity, or the fact that my idol Vanilla Ice - proud owner of the song which was number 1 the day I was born - has sold out by collaborating on this song. Either way, it hurts really bad, like being stabbed by their acutely sharp hair styles. By the way, does anyone know the difference between John and Edward? I don't, for one. At least with Ant and Dec they perpetually stand in the correct order. And Ant has a huge forehead, that helps as well.
It has not been the best couple of days for me, musically, as I discovered this week Fall Out Boy, ie the soundtrack of my teenage years, have split up. This wasn't really a surprise (the releasing of a Greatest Hits and the hiatus they announced in November may had been clues) but it was still a bit upsetting nonetheless. It was a metaphor for my youth, for I realise now I am far closer to adulthood than kidulthood. And it is all very depressing. What is more, my Dad, rather than comfort me, simply said "I told you so. They aren't like Paul Weller, after all". And I suppose this is true. If anything, I am surprised some of the other bands I like are still going after all this time. It must be hard for Brian Molko to write about teenage angst when Placebo have been around since the mid-90s, for example.
Life is not all bad, far from it. I have distractions, little insignificant things which keep my mind away from such depressing thoughts. Often these are unintentional little things; for instance, in one of my classes the other day a boy of Asian descent (which country I am not sure) was proudly wearing a Celtic jersey. This cheered me up. I can't really say why though, after all, it was just an example of successful global marketing. But hey, it's Celtic global marketing. And that makes it good. If it were a Rangers jersey he was wearing my mood would be diminished. But this is my blog, which means I'm allowed a high degree of hypocrisy, ok?
Another distraction is for me is reading. The last couple of months, especially since leaving High School is that I love books. They are great. Like, the way you can just pick up a book and enter a completely different world. I am currently reading "Generation X" by an author who's name I can't really remember just now. I could easily go and get the book now but that would involve leaving my chair. And I don't want to leave my chair, I am quite comfortable thank you very much. The point is, people who don't read should read more, because you don't need 3D glasses when you have an active imagination.
By the way, sorry for the lack of blogness (if that is a word) yesterday. I was travelling up the A82 ton Fort William yesterday evening. Hence, today's blog comes from my hometown, the place where my first bout of entries derives from. It's weird not writing this in my Murano cell, on my laptop whilst sipping tea and listening to Bloc Party (I am still listening to "Weekend in the City") but rather the "House" computer, with it's Windows XP and lonely existence in the corridor. It is probably a better PC than my laptop though.
Anyways, I'm going to call it a night for today's installment. Remember all the stuff I said about reading? Screw it, I have an XBox upstairs!
DC x
Can you by any chance fetch me a mop? The blood from my slit wrists is going everywhere. And on the laptop too. Aww crap it's gonna break again...
A bit extreme, perhaps. But this is the closest metaphor I could find to display my raw emotion as my ears and eyes - which, by the way were once my favourite senses - were unfairly punished by the atrocity of Jedward's new single. I don't really know what is worse; the fact that Freddie Mercury is not alive to experience this monstrosity, or the fact that my idol Vanilla Ice - proud owner of the song which was number 1 the day I was born - has sold out by collaborating on this song. Either way, it hurts really bad, like being stabbed by their acutely sharp hair styles. By the way, does anyone know the difference between John and Edward? I don't, for one. At least with Ant and Dec they perpetually stand in the correct order. And Ant has a huge forehead, that helps as well.
It has not been the best couple of days for me, musically, as I discovered this week Fall Out Boy, ie the soundtrack of my teenage years, have split up. This wasn't really a surprise (the releasing of a Greatest Hits and the hiatus they announced in November may had been clues) but it was still a bit upsetting nonetheless. It was a metaphor for my youth, for I realise now I am far closer to adulthood than kidulthood. And it is all very depressing. What is more, my Dad, rather than comfort me, simply said "I told you so. They aren't like Paul Weller, after all". And I suppose this is true. If anything, I am surprised some of the other bands I like are still going after all this time. It must be hard for Brian Molko to write about teenage angst when Placebo have been around since the mid-90s, for example.
Life is not all bad, far from it. I have distractions, little insignificant things which keep my mind away from such depressing thoughts. Often these are unintentional little things; for instance, in one of my classes the other day a boy of Asian descent (which country I am not sure) was proudly wearing a Celtic jersey. This cheered me up. I can't really say why though, after all, it was just an example of successful global marketing. But hey, it's Celtic global marketing. And that makes it good. If it were a Rangers jersey he was wearing my mood would be diminished. But this is my blog, which means I'm allowed a high degree of hypocrisy, ok?
Another distraction is for me is reading. The last couple of months, especially since leaving High School is that I love books. They are great. Like, the way you can just pick up a book and enter a completely different world. I am currently reading "Generation X" by an author who's name I can't really remember just now. I could easily go and get the book now but that would involve leaving my chair. And I don't want to leave my chair, I am quite comfortable thank you very much. The point is, people who don't read should read more, because you don't need 3D glasses when you have an active imagination.
By the way, sorry for the lack of blogness (if that is a word) yesterday. I was travelling up the A82 ton Fort William yesterday evening. Hence, today's blog comes from my hometown, the place where my first bout of entries derives from. It's weird not writing this in my Murano cell, on my laptop whilst sipping tea and listening to Bloc Party (I am still listening to "Weekend in the City") but rather the "House" computer, with it's Windows XP and lonely existence in the corridor. It is probably a better PC than my laptop though.
Anyways, I'm going to call it a night for today's installment. Remember all the stuff I said about reading? Screw it, I have an XBox upstairs!
DC x
Wednesday 3 February 2010
Living For the City..
Hey,
Music is an amazing thing, ain't it? I mean, a song, once heard, never truly leaves you does it? Unless it is a really bad song, or Scouting For Girls. Remember Scouting For Girls? They by-passed my consciousness like a seagull flying over head whilst on holiday in Majorca that won't be seen again. Touchwood.
I mention this because of what happened to me this morning. In our flat, the radio is near-enough perpetually on, and bizarrely, it is always on Radio 2. Hardly the typical choice of us stereotypical studnet folk, with our Pot Noodle, creased clothing and debt. Yet Radio 2 plays good songs. Not the type that a certain record label want you to hear (that's right, Fearne Cotton. You don't like You Me At Six at all, do you? You lie Miss Cotton, you lie) but genuinely good music. This morning, I was awoken to Stevie Wonder's "Living For the City", an amazing song which I doubt I'd hear on Radio 1 unless Westwood took a small - yet significant - accident whilst on a bicycle. The song was to epitomise my day as the search for a flat for the 2010/11 (Jesus, where do the years go?). Turns out it is tougher than you think, especially when money is involved. I'm sure it will sort itself out though hopefully. The song also reminds me of Higher Modern Studies, with all the social inequalities of the US. As I say, a song can trigger memories in a second.
The great thing about a song, especially in this day and age of "Shuffle" - a concept which seems to be suffocating the concept out of a concept album - has meant you may become distant from a song for a long time, only for it to come back to you randomly. This has also been the case with Bloc Party's "A Weekend in the City". I bumped into it by accident in amongst my unhealthy Fall Out Boy collection the other day, and I have only just realised how good an album it is. With iPod, the temptation not to really listen to a CD properly is common and this album recieved such treatment. It may be three years too late, but at least now I know. I'll let you borrow it if you want, I cannot get "Song for Clay (Disappear Here) out of my head at the moment.
My blog is almost starting to sound a bit, well, positive. We can't have this now can we! OK, back to normal. First of all, my annoyance with Iceland, regarding their bag policy. The other day, having both numerous items, I was not offered a bag, forcing ME (I know, right) to do it. "Fair enough" I thought. Yet, next in line, a girl who was arguably more attractive than I was to the male check-out operator bought a bottle of coke which he bagged personally. I don't have a problem with not getting it packed, it is the mere hypocrisy of it all. Should I be discriminated against because I lack (or at least, have very small) breasts? No. Feminism gone too far? Probably not that either, just me moaning about something pointless. Again.
Also, the loan signing of the Messiah - not an exact quote from the Bible but you can check - of Robbie Keane to Celtic failed to prevent them from losing to Kilmarnock. Those of who that are regular readers of my blog (that's right you two) will have noticed I watched Kilmarnock play and thought little of them. How silly of me. I reckon it's the fact that, regardless of who the personnel are, the team "Celtic" will not score goals. End of. Pele and Maradona would be sold to Middlesbrough if they were wearing the most recent neon-black kit disaster. Maybe their name should be changed, everything else has been tried. Perhaps "Old Firm Green" to stick true to old Pro Evolution Soccer games. Or make a bit of money out of it, being skint up here in Glasgow in all. Fans may not like "Renault Celtics" at first, but that would change once we won the Europa League.
Got to keep it realistic and all that.
DC x
Music is an amazing thing, ain't it? I mean, a song, once heard, never truly leaves you does it? Unless it is a really bad song, or Scouting For Girls. Remember Scouting For Girls? They by-passed my consciousness like a seagull flying over head whilst on holiday in Majorca that won't be seen again. Touchwood.
I mention this because of what happened to me this morning. In our flat, the radio is near-enough perpetually on, and bizarrely, it is always on Radio 2. Hardly the typical choice of us stereotypical studnet folk, with our Pot Noodle, creased clothing and debt. Yet Radio 2 plays good songs. Not the type that a certain record label want you to hear (that's right, Fearne Cotton. You don't like You Me At Six at all, do you? You lie Miss Cotton, you lie) but genuinely good music. This morning, I was awoken to Stevie Wonder's "Living For the City", an amazing song which I doubt I'd hear on Radio 1 unless Westwood took a small - yet significant - accident whilst on a bicycle. The song was to epitomise my day as the search for a flat for the 2010/11 (Jesus, where do the years go?). Turns out it is tougher than you think, especially when money is involved. I'm sure it will sort itself out though hopefully. The song also reminds me of Higher Modern Studies, with all the social inequalities of the US. As I say, a song can trigger memories in a second.
The great thing about a song, especially in this day and age of "Shuffle" - a concept which seems to be suffocating the concept out of a concept album - has meant you may become distant from a song for a long time, only for it to come back to you randomly. This has also been the case with Bloc Party's "A Weekend in the City". I bumped into it by accident in amongst my unhealthy Fall Out Boy collection the other day, and I have only just realised how good an album it is. With iPod, the temptation not to really listen to a CD properly is common and this album recieved such treatment. It may be three years too late, but at least now I know. I'll let you borrow it if you want, I cannot get "Song for Clay (Disappear Here) out of my head at the moment.
My blog is almost starting to sound a bit, well, positive. We can't have this now can we! OK, back to normal. First of all, my annoyance with Iceland, regarding their bag policy. The other day, having both numerous items, I was not offered a bag, forcing ME (I know, right) to do it. "Fair enough" I thought. Yet, next in line, a girl who was arguably more attractive than I was to the male check-out operator bought a bottle of coke which he bagged personally. I don't have a problem with not getting it packed, it is the mere hypocrisy of it all. Should I be discriminated against because I lack (or at least, have very small) breasts? No. Feminism gone too far? Probably not that either, just me moaning about something pointless. Again.
Also, the loan signing of the Messiah - not an exact quote from the Bible but you can check - of Robbie Keane to Celtic failed to prevent them from losing to Kilmarnock. Those of who that are regular readers of my blog (that's right you two) will have noticed I watched Kilmarnock play and thought little of them. How silly of me. I reckon it's the fact that, regardless of who the personnel are, the team "Celtic" will not score goals. End of. Pele and Maradona would be sold to Middlesbrough if they were wearing the most recent neon-black kit disaster. Maybe their name should be changed, everything else has been tried. Perhaps "Old Firm Green" to stick true to old Pro Evolution Soccer games. Or make a bit of money out of it, being skint up here in Glasgow in all. Fans may not like "Renault Celtics" at first, but that would change once we won the Europa League.
Got to keep it realistic and all that.
DC x
Tuesday 2 February 2010
If I had the money to go to the record store I would. Yeah, I would.
Hey,
The return of my laptop, as I said a few days ago, has meant many things have returned to my life. Most notably, Facebook. But another welcome reunion has been the one between myself and BBC iPlayer.
As a student, and consequently television-less, iPlayer has been a bit of a lifesaver. I do not miss out on my favourite shows, and I also watch them when I want to watch them, roughly on the same terms as Sky+. Looking back, scheduled TV listings just seem a bit, well, weird really. They have become a diet which you do not have to stick to, and if you don't you will lose the same amount of weight regardless of whether you done the exercise or not.
Another advantage of iPlayer - in conjunction with the free time a first year student has - has been the possibility to watch programs you would normally flick over whilst browsing the many channels on digital. One such program which I came upon last night was Hustle, Midsomer Murders, but half the length and twice as enjoyable. Oh, and without murder. In fact, the murder thing is quite essential to Midsomer Murders, not so much Hustler. Ultimately, it is my kind of show.
Another show which had it's UK debut last night was The Cleveland Show, a spin-off from Family Guy. If you love Family Guy, you will love this too. I know I did.
Right, before I end up becoming a TV critic, I better get off this thing. After all, this essay "What impact did unemployment have on society in the inter-war period?" is not going to write itself. If only I could con someone into doing it for me. Hopefully, it's a spoiler for next week's Hustle...
DC x
The return of my laptop, as I said a few days ago, has meant many things have returned to my life. Most notably, Facebook. But another welcome reunion has been the one between myself and BBC iPlayer.
As a student, and consequently television-less, iPlayer has been a bit of a lifesaver. I do not miss out on my favourite shows, and I also watch them when I want to watch them, roughly on the same terms as Sky+. Looking back, scheduled TV listings just seem a bit, well, weird really. They have become a diet which you do not have to stick to, and if you don't you will lose the same amount of weight regardless of whether you done the exercise or not.
Another advantage of iPlayer - in conjunction with the free time a first year student has - has been the possibility to watch programs you would normally flick over whilst browsing the many channels on digital. One such program which I came upon last night was Hustle, Midsomer Murders, but half the length and twice as enjoyable. Oh, and without murder. In fact, the murder thing is quite essential to Midsomer Murders, not so much Hustler. Ultimately, it is my kind of show.
Another show which had it's UK debut last night was The Cleveland Show, a spin-off from Family Guy. If you love Family Guy, you will love this too. I know I did.
Right, before I end up becoming a TV critic, I better get off this thing. After all, this essay "What impact did unemployment have on society in the inter-war period?" is not going to write itself. If only I could con someone into doing it for me. Hopefully, it's a spoiler for next week's Hustle...
DC x
Monday 1 February 2010
Deadline Day; Call the Masses.
Hey,
I know I know I know I KNOW I said I would try and write this blog daily. Circumstances (broken laptop) have meant that I couldn't. With that excuse gone it may appear that I have failed on this promise. But technically, I havent, for you see I started this blog on Monday 1st February, so make of this what you will. Not as if it matters, in the grand scheme of things. If I did not write this blog civilisation would still function. I would still function. What is the point of this?
A bit downbeat? Yeah, sorry. I don't really feel like that, it is just an introduction for today's blog. Not that much has happened since we last met; I caught up with Glee, followed by four hours of vomiting/crying. Whichever is more manly, because Glee doesn't produce that sort of reaction out of me. More a feeling of discontent, cringe and at best, an admiration of Sue's tracksuits. Adidas Original will always be cool.
Today though was the last day of the January transfer window. Anyone with an eagle eye will have noticed however that today is the start of February. It makes no sense, right? As a Celtic fan (don't judge) transfer windows generally mean a relatively empty month, with nothing but jealousy of the spending power of Stoke and Bolton to feed on. But this year has been different; players have been bought, sold to Middlesbrough (contender to be the new Coventry, possibly?) and it has all been very exciting. Especially the signing of Robbie Keane.
Good news, yes, but the messiah no he is not. The reaction of the Celtic fans is on a similar scale to said Monty Python sketch. But yet hundreds, literally hundreds of fans have turned up at the gates of Celtic Park to see him. It all reminds me of Newcastle so much when Kevin Keegan was signed/sacked/signed again/sacked again. Ultimately, Keane, like all of us, is human. Any less than a Keane-inspired league trophy will be seen as a disappointment.
To conclude, I should really be going to bed. University is tomorrow and I am tired from my hockey exploits. On the other hand, my flatmates are out tonight, I am tempted to stay up and laugh at drunk people. Heck, they have done it to me enough times...
DC x
I know I know I know I KNOW I said I would try and write this blog daily. Circumstances (broken laptop) have meant that I couldn't. With that excuse gone it may appear that I have failed on this promise. But technically, I havent, for you see I started this blog on Monday 1st February, so make of this what you will. Not as if it matters, in the grand scheme of things. If I did not write this blog civilisation would still function. I would still function. What is the point of this?
A bit downbeat? Yeah, sorry. I don't really feel like that, it is just an introduction for today's blog. Not that much has happened since we last met; I caught up with Glee, followed by four hours of vomiting/crying. Whichever is more manly, because Glee doesn't produce that sort of reaction out of me. More a feeling of discontent, cringe and at best, an admiration of Sue's tracksuits. Adidas Original will always be cool.
Today though was the last day of the January transfer window. Anyone with an eagle eye will have noticed however that today is the start of February. It makes no sense, right? As a Celtic fan (don't judge) transfer windows generally mean a relatively empty month, with nothing but jealousy of the spending power of Stoke and Bolton to feed on. But this year has been different; players have been bought, sold to Middlesbrough (contender to be the new Coventry, possibly?) and it has all been very exciting. Especially the signing of Robbie Keane.
Good news, yes, but the messiah no he is not. The reaction of the Celtic fans is on a similar scale to said Monty Python sketch. But yet hundreds, literally hundreds of fans have turned up at the gates of Celtic Park to see him. It all reminds me of Newcastle so much when Kevin Keegan was signed/sacked/signed again/sacked again. Ultimately, Keane, like all of us, is human. Any less than a Keane-inspired league trophy will be seen as a disappointment.
To conclude, I should really be going to bed. University is tomorrow and I am tired from my hockey exploits. On the other hand, my flatmates are out tonight, I am tempted to stay up and laugh at drunk people. Heck, they have done it to me enough times...
DC x
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)