Football Chat & Pub Banter
Our resident Football Chat columnists are: Percy - Tuesday, April 28 Can anyone explain to me why the football authorities, in their infinite wisdom, have decided that taking your shirt off in celebration after scoring a goal is now a bookable offence? Surely football is all about excitement and emotion. Scoring a goal is the most exciting and emotional moment in a game. Surely we all want excitement and emotion when we go to the football. We all get excited and emotional when a goal is scored yet the player who actually manages the feat, the one who has most reason to be excited and emotional, actually gets punished if he whips off his shirt in celebration. What exactly is the problem? Personally I don't know why players do it. Not only are they going to get booked but it's not exactly a great celebration. Giggsy did it when he scored that goal against Arsenal and that was fair enough. Now I don't see what people think they can add to the genre. Once one shirt's come off, they've all come off in my view. But if a player still wants to celebrate that way then let them. On Saturday evening I was in the pub which had two games on live at the same time. Both games were dramatic, thrilling affairs. Both games were hugely important in their own right. Not surprisingly, at almost the same moment, both games involved examples of shirt removal resulting in yellow cards for players who committed that most heinous of offences, scoring a vital goal. The game I was watching was between Birmingham City and Preston North End. Both teams needed to win; Birmingham to clinch promotion to the Premier League, Preston to keep alive their play off hopes. With two minutes of an intensely exciting game remaining Preston were awarded a free kick thirty yards out, Ross Wallace stepped forward to slam the perfect free kick in off a post and thereby keep his team's hopes alive. Wallace set off on a manic run of celebration, shirt twirling above his head, and when he finally came to a halt there was the obligatory yellow card staring him in the face. Wallace had already been booked so this was followed by a red and he had to sit out a frantic period of injury time, which his team just about survived, and will also sit out next weeks' game when his side try to clinch a play off spot. Stupid, yes, because we all know the rules but should this rule actually exist? I don't know if it's a decency thing but Wallace had one of those long sleeved, skin tight t shirts on under his shirt so he just looked the same even with his top off. Bonkers. Over at Old Trafford Manchester United were in the process of slamming five goals past Tottenham in about as many seconds and when Ronaldo headed in the third, to put his side in the lead, he'd had enough of his shirt as well. Ronaldo's a guy I don't really like and regular readers will know that he's received plenty of stick down the years from yours truly but on this occasion I've got to give him a bit of credit. Having said there's not much else you can do with a shirt off celebration Ronaldo did manage something slightly unusual by hurling his shirt into outer space. Seriously, nobody could have thrown that shirt further. Not Steve Backley, not Fatima Whitbread, not even Dave Gahan. Dave Gahan? Dave Gahan always used to throw his shirt into the crowd at Depeche Mode concerts to give someone a magnificent souvenir and a pretty damn decent going out shirt into the bargain. I was at one once and I was getting all excited when Sir David mozied on over towards my part of the crowd and started whipping off his shirt. I knew what was coming and sure enough he lobbed the prized article straight in my direction. As just about the greatest fielder in cricket history I knew the shirt was mine the moment it left his bat, sorry, hand, and up I leapt, salmon like, to claim my prize. I was still there, hanging mid air like Les Ferdinand waiting for an Andy Sinton centre, as the precious article went sailing off into the distance. I couldn't believe it. One of my mates, who was about six foot six, was stood directly behind me and told me later that he had the garment covered but that I had taken him out as I arched backwards in desperate pursuit. Maybe, but I'm not sure. I reckon that shirt of Gahan's is now being kept company by Ronaldo's United shirt as it circumnavigates the moon for the rest of time. Of course Dave Gahan has had to stop lobbing his shirt into the crowd these days. He did it for five concerts on the trot a few years back and was then suspended for the next gig. Boy, how disappointed was Berlin that day? Having said that, Martin Gore's a good singer too.
Percy - Wednesday, April 15 Firstly, I see that The New Norman Whiteside is still keeping up his bid to become The New Norman Whiteside. Federico Macheda came off the bench to score the winner for Manchester United at Sunderland on Saturday almost before the fourth official had tapped his number into his electonic board. Very Norman Whiteside. What I want to mention today, however, is a couple of comments made by Premier League managers recently. One of those involved is the newest kid on the block, the other is a seasoned "pro". In both cases I was wondering whether they were talking football or talking bollocks. The first case I'm going to consider involves Big Fat Sam Allardyce so the answer is obviously he was talking bollocks. Big Fat Sam gave a nauseating interview before taking his Blackburn side to Liverpool in which he expressed the opinion that Rafa Benitez would be better off not getting involved in mind games with Alex Ferguson because he simply isn't onto a winner. Fair enough. Big Fat "Do You Know Who I Am?" Sam couldn't leave it there, however. He then had to go on to let us know that he's been involved in a few mind games down the years and he always wins. The reason for his success in this area, according to Sam himself, is the fact that he doesn't care what anybody else says. Brilliant. That does come across as almost ringing true, unusual for Allardyce, as he gives the impression of being a man who would gladly enter into a discussion with you without listening to a word you've got to say. But do the facts support Big Fat "Water Off A Ducks Back" Sam's claim? Big Fat Sam doesn't care what people say? Why the hell wouldn't he talk to the BBC for all that time then? Big Fat Sam is the kind of guy who will be able to win arguments or mind games simply from being too stupid to understand his own stupidity. I don't care what you say about me only don't say anything bad or I won't speak to you again. Is that a promise you stupid fat bastard? Onto the other incident. Step forward Alan Shearer. I was intrigued to read a quote from Shearer bemoaning the size of the Newcastle squad he has just inherited. Shearer told us that he's only got one right back and one left back and, apparently, "it doesn't take a genius to work out that isn't enough." Really, Alan? How many full backs do you want to have in your team? I would have thought that one on either side was plenty. Okay, okay. I know what The Messiah meant. Can't he just take his one right back and one left back and magically turn them into three right backs and three left backs like a true Messiah would when faced with giving 40,000 people what they wanted? The best thing about Shearer's comment, however, was that it brought back to my mind the revolutionary managerial tactics of one of my pub team managers a few years back. Arise Sir David of Murray, ex professional footballer of some renown and shortlived manager of The Fox & Grapes FC. Sir David, who had spent time playing football in Belgium which might explain it, was of the absolute opinion that there was no need for a left back in his football team. A right back yes, a left back, definitely not required. By not having a left back his team was therefore able to employ a player in the hole behind his two strikers. That tactic lasted about twenty minutes into our first game of the season by which time we were 2-0 down, we ended up losing the game and it cost us the league at the end of the season. Tremendous. I supposed I'd better mention, to save Norbert the trouble, that the first goal in that game came direct from a heinous mistake by yours truly after I'd had to wander over into the vacant left back position to deal with a situation only to make a complete cock up. Norbert also came on as a sub in that game and scored with his first touch but it wasn't enough to spare us from a 2-1 defeat. Coming on and scoring with your first touch. Maybe Federico Macheda isn't The Italian Norman Whiteside after all. Maybe he's The Italian Norbert. Now that really is a scary thought.
Percy - Thursday, April 9 It's been a hectic old week with all kinds of excitement and drama. Liverpool score a last minute winner at Fulham and spend the day smugly waiting for Manchester United to slip up. Then United score a last minute winner against Villa and can smugly laugh back at the Scousers. Then Porto score a last minute equaliser at United and nobody really knows who should feel smug anymore. Maybe Chelsea who then go to Liverpool and whop them 3-1. Yes, whop them. The way this season's going nobody should start feeling too smug, too soon. Anyway, from all this mayhem the major talking point, as far as I can see, has got to be the strange non-mentioning of Norman Whiteside. I've not done a totally comprehensive study but I've not heard him mentioned on the tele, the radio, in the papers, on the internet or down the pub. Unbelievable. I mean, a seventeen year old "boy" who's built like a brick shithouse comes on as a sub for Manchester United, tries to have a fight with Gareth Barry and then does a surprisingly smart turn in the last minute and fires home a spectacular winner. Jesus Christ, for a minute there last Sunday I thought I had gone back to the future and it was 1982 again. I was about to nip out of the pub and go and see if I could find the fourteen year old Tracey Bone again. Then I caught a glance of myself in the mirror and realised that, even if it was 1982, I was still in my forties and there might be repercussions if I did find Tracey. Then I started thinking about looking up my old form teacher, Mrs Teasdale. Back to the football though. Usually everyone's falling over themselves to christen a new kid on the block as the new somebody or other. This was the most obvious one ever. Maybe that's why everyone else hasn't bothered saying it. Federico Macheda; "The Italian Whiteside" surely. Get rid of that stupid "Kiko" nickname for starters and just start calling him Norman. It might piss him off at first but once he's seen a few videos of Norman in action he'll start to appreciate the comparison. The main comparison I've been trying to make in my mind has obviously been which one of them would win in a fight? The answers obvious too, of course. Norman Whiteside would kick his head in. Badly. Of course, Norman might then be in a bit of trouble with Federico's leather jacketed family members who did have a bit of a Sicilian look about them. Anyway, I'm not proud. It might have been a too obvious comparison for everyone else to make but Federico Macheda is "The New Norman Whiteside". And if he thought that goal on his debut was a lot to live up to then being "The New Norman Whiteside" is real pressure. My only advice to him as to how to go about doing so is don't try to emulate his drinking exploits. Now I'm back off to 1982 and the search for Mrs Teasdale. She was a Manchester United fan as I remember rightly. I'll bet she was thinking of Big Norman last Sunday. Percy - Friday, March 20 I suppose everyone in the country who doesn't actually claim to support one of the "Big Four" have been hoping that Aston Villa would be able to maintain their form this season and claim one of the Champions League places for next season. We've all been frustrated and disappointed, but not altogether surprised, that they have faltered and it now looks unlikely that they will be able to finish ahead of Arsenal who are getting their players back and hitting form at the right time while Villa's threadbare, by Premier League standards, squad looks increasingly jaded. If us neutrals are frustrated and disappointed by the situation it is only natural to assume that recent events are far more galling to actual Villa fans but it is difficult to defend, or comprehend, the ritual booing that now takes place at every Villa home game. Villa were booed off after drawing against Wigan, a game in which they battered their opponents but couldn't score, they were booed off after drawing against Stoke after letting a two goal lead slip in the last few minutes, and last week they were booed off after losing to Tottenham at Villa Park. In that last game the Villa crowd hit a real low spot by cheering loudly when Gabby Agbonlahor was substituted. Agbonlahor is a young player obviously out of form at the moment but he is one of the chief reasons behind Villa's lofty position and is a talent everyone connected with the club must surely be hoping will form a part of its' long term future. Likewise the manager Martin O'Neill. While the terrace abuse does not seem particularly aimed at him it will do nothing to endear the supporters or the club to him. Considering he only has a one year rolling contract and is one of the most admired and sought after managers around the Villa "faithful" might want to think before venting their spleen next time around. Obviously the home results this season haven't been the best but do Villa fans honestly think their team is better than Arsenal's and should be above them in the table? Their squad obviously isn't. If they see fit to boo their teams' efforts how much abuse should the Arsenal fans have been heaping on their team for trailing Villa for most of the campaign? There has been unrest at The Emirates but nothing as significant as that heard at Villa Park. Football fans always have selective, and generally short, memories but surely every Villa fan is aware that this season has been a significant improvement on recent efforts and that, under O'Neill, there has been a consistent improvement. These fans should also remember their attitude to Gareth Barry in the summer when he wanted to go to Liverpool. They demanded loyalty from Barry but they are now showing their own loyalty in a strange way. If one of the top four want to sign Barry again this summer could the Villa fans really complain if he wants away? One other thing the Villa fans might want to think about is the atmosphere at Villa Park as well. They can slaughter the players' efforts but Villa Park is hardly the most intimidating place to go and play football, is it? While Stoke City's fans are doing their best to keep their team afloat by turning The Brittania Stadium into an inspiring cauldron every other week the only time you generally hear anything from the Villa fans is when they break out into a chorus of derision at their own team. And while their team lost its' last home game to Spurs 2-1 if the supporters had been given scores after the game it would have been an absolute landslide victory for the visitors. Another thing I want to talk about is Theo Walcott and his recent European penalty. I was surprised when I saw Theo stepping forward to take a spot kick against Roma and although he scored it was a none too convincing effort that the keeper should definitely have saved. I was even more astonished, therefore, to see a newspaper article a few days later in which Walcott was holding court about how to take penalties. Sneaking one through the goalkeepers' hands doesn't make you Matt Le Tissier, Theo. Theo helpfully explained that the secret is not to look the goalkeeper in the eye. Now I seem to remember Eric Cantona strolling forward to take many a spot kick and never taking his gaze away from the keeper, almost goading the man that he was about to beat. If I had to put my money on either Eric or Theo to score a spot kick for me, or buy a manual on how to take them, I would be in the Cantona corner every time. I also have to conclude that Theo not only didn't look at the keeper before he took the kick but that he still wasn't looking at him when he somehow let the kick go past him. Fair play for taking the kick Theo and congratulations on scoring it but I don't think you're a spot kick guru just yet.
Percy - Thursday, February 5 You could almost have felt sorry for Tottenham fans this season. After all, it started with such optimism after winning a trophy last year and people talking about them breaking into the top four only for everything to fall apart and end up with them struggling to climb away from the foot of the table. And of course they now have to cosy up to the, at least, vaguely unpleasant Harry Redknapp. One thing has stopped me from feeling sorry for them, though, as there has apparently been one huge crumb of comfort which Spurs supporters have been eagerly feeding off all season. Even before it became obvious to the rest of us that Robbie Keane is actually crap every Tottenham supporter I heard venture an opinion was "Keane" to put on record the fact that his influence at White Hart Lane had been grossly over estimated, that he would fail at Liverpool and, basically, he simply wasn't that good. None of these comments came across as sour grapes, just the honest opinions of supporters who knew a good piece of business when they saw one. And while I've never seen or heard a Spurs fan say a nice thing about Berbatov since he moved from The Lane none have actually questioned his ability. Despite the struggles of their own team it must have been wonderful for the Spurs' support to see dear old Robbie failing even more miserably at the club "he had always supported". Bad one week, worse the next until he had practically been banned from the ground by Rafa "I never wanted him here in the first place" Benitez. How happy must these Spurs fans be now to see Harry give Liverpool almost all their money back to bring Robbie "it's like coming home" Keane back to White Hart Lane and install him as captain? Who's laughing now?
Percy - Thursday, January 22 I was watching the highlights of the Burnley/Spurs semi final last night and I'm beginning to worry that I'm losing my marbles. In modern day football nothing can happen without one or both sides turning viciously on the referee and blaming him for everything from third world poverty to the holocaust and the rightful direction of any given throw in. Every incident is blown up out of all proportion both on the pitch and off it by those directly involved and also hyped to death by everyone in the media. Which is why I'm beginning to doubt the existence of a genuine controversy of earth shattering proportions that I could have sworn I witnessed with my own eyes (through the medium of television of course). Let me explain more fully. With the scores still level at 0-0 on the night Burnley were trying to mount an attack when the ball broke loose towards the Tottenham left back. The situation was fairly tight but the ball was definitely his to play and he made an obvious attempt to pass the ball back to his keeper. In keeping with a fairly shambolic Tottenham performance, however, the freak in question overhit the pass massively and it was sailing clean over the keepers' head and into the net for a Burnley goal. There was no way the Spurs keeper could head the ball away and he's not allowed to handle a backpass so his only option was to just let the ball go in. Instead he jumped up and tipped the ball behind in just about the most blatant breaking of the laws I've ever seen on a football field. Lying leisurely on my sofa I immediately thought "Professional foul, indirect free kick and the keeper's got to go." It didn't appear as though there could be two opinions on the matter. Not so, however. The referee was quite content to simply point for a corner and neither the Burnley players, coaching staff or crowd seemed to be in the slightest bit bothered about the decision. Likewise the commentators didn't see fit to mention the possibility of foul play either at the time or in their assessment of events afterwards and none of the papers have mentioned it either. Did it really happen? And if it did why weren't Burnley bothered about it? The Tottenham keeper did look pretty crap and they might just have wanted to keep him on but it did seem strange to me. They should at least have wanted the indirect free kick over the corner. I know a lot of people reckon that there is too much scrutiny and criticism of officials but I think it is even stranger, and disturbing, when they are allowed to do as they please and no-one bats an eyelid. What's going on? Am I going mad or am I just the only sane person left on this planet?
Percy - Tuesday, January 20 Lots of people have lots of opinions about the sudden wealth of Manchester City Football Club. Is it good for the game? Is it good for English football? Is it good for Manchester City? Is it immoral? From my own point of view it is beginning to be a very bad thing indeed. Why? Because saturation coverage of their transfer dealings (real and imaginary) is quickly becoming the most boring thing ever in the history of the world. Ever. The freaking Kaka Saga alone is in danger of giving drying paint a good name. If it goes on much longer I reckon there will be people demanding that Sky Sports News is taken off the air and replaced by a programme offering live coverage of grass growing. I'll be heading that pressure group. Who gives a shit if City actually tabled a bid or not or if they were just out there on a corporate jolly gaining international exposure for their club with a fictitious pursuit of the God fearing Brazilian schemer? I don't. I just wish they'd all go away and do their business in private. I don't mind being told about it when somebody has actually signed somebody but beyond that I really don't need to know. I don't need to know about who Harry Freaking Radknapp is interested in and I certainly don't need to know about how much Roque Santa Cruz is worth to Big Fat Sam Allardyce. Apparently BFS won't sell RSC this window because nobody will bid 40 million for him and any figure lower than that does not make it worth his, or Blackburn's, while. This is what the Blackburn board have got themselves into and they only have themselves to blame. Allardyce is equating Santa Cruz's transfer value to the potential earnings loss Rovers would suffer if they got relegated. The fact that Allardyce isn't actually picking Santa Cruz would make you think that whether he stays at the club or not is fairly academic as to where they will finish and that if the club did get any kind of decent bid it could be good business for them. To be fair to Allardyce I think he has actually worked out that if he melted Santa Cruz down he could probably make 40 million quids worth of bubble gum out of him which would save him spending his own money on this essential product and also save him from the 47 visits to the newsagents he has to make each day at the moment to keep stocked up. Back to City. It was especially nauseating when some mush from their supporters club got air time on Sky Sports News and took the opportunity to gush on about how Kaka should be respected for his loyalty in turning down the chance of moving from Milan to City. Loyalty staying at Milan rather than moving to Manchester City? You'd be better off commending him for the retention of his marbles. No doubt that freak won't think the worse of the Wayne Bridge's and Craig Bellamy's of this world who do actually end up representing his club simply because it gives them the chance to grab a big, fat wodge of cash. All I can say is God's speed to the end of the transfer window and perhaps a summer long coma for Percy Piranhafish to save him from the pile of transfer shite awaiting him there. By the way, did Bellamy take his golf clubs with him when he jetted out to join his new City teammates on their little holiday in the sun?
Percy - Wednesday, December 31 I believe Steven Gerrard was arrested the other night. Can anybody tell me why? My guess is that him and some other Everton fans got involved in a fracas with some Liverpool fans, but that is only a guess. Anyway, at least it will give Liverpool FC and all their fans another opportunity to proclaim his innocence to all the world. We should all know by now that nobody remotely connected with that club can ever do anything wrong. Happy New Year from Percy Piranhafish.
Percy - Thursday, December 18 Yes, I know. It's depressing, isn't it? Big Fat Sam The Slug Allardyce is back in the Premier League as manager of Blackburn Rovers. I suppose Blackburn has an image of being a bit of an inbred, backward little town in the middle of nowhere with witches boiling children on the surrounding hills and I think we can assume that that image is pretty accurate. The decision to invite Big Fat Sam into your clan is very 14th century. The "football" he produces will probably be neanderthal. Well, Blackburn, you're welcome to the man and you're welcome to the garbage that comes with him. Just don't start moaning when you go down that the football's shit as well. I'm interested in now finding out just how bad a manager Paul Ince was. That won't be decided by what Ince does in any future roles. It will be the disgusting, festering slob that is Sam Allardyce who will spend the next few months (or however long he spends in charge at Ewood) loudly telling everyone of just how big a mess Ince had made of things whenever he feels the need to explain his own deficiencies. Things might well go wrong at Blackburn over the coming months but you can bet your life none of it will be Allardyce's fault. Personally, if Allardyce had to get another Premier League job I wish it had been at Manchester City. It would have been interesting to see just how much money he would have been prepared to pay to get Rory Delap to the club. Blackburn probably can't afford the £1.2 billion Allardyce would reckon he's worth.
Percy - Saturday, December 6 Using multiple exclamation marks at the end of anything is a really tacky thing to do but when you are going to talk about Big Fat Sam Allardyce then tacky is not only allowable it is imperative. The stupid Big Fat Bastard. Ever since getting ignominiously sacked by Newcastle United Big Fat Sam Allardyce has been whorring himself around each and every Premier League manager situation vacant that comes along. Up to now Big Fat Sam has tried to be subtle about it. Someone gets sacked or resigns and there it is, a day or two later in all the papers "a source close to Sam Allardyce confirmed that he would be interested in the job." That kind of thing while the big fat slob hovers somewhere in the background frantically chewing his gum and waiting for a door to open. What a retard. Now it would appear that Allardyce has given up on the subtle approach, it never was his forte after all. This week Roy Keane walked out on Sunderland and Big Fat Sam himself had made the sports pages the day after declaring his interest in the post. Of course the man who had always loved Newcastle has always loved Sunderland as well. And if Gareth Southgate got knocked over by a train tomorrow it would no doubt emerge that Allardyce has always had a Boro badge tattooed across his big fat backside. What we really needed this week was for Harry Enfield to be installed as chairman of Sunderland just so he could get Paul Whitehouse down the pub, order a couple of beers and make up a little sketch that ended up with him bellowing "Oi, Allardyce, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" Actually those sketches always started with them saying nice things about the person/thing under discussion before turning nasty at a supposed scenario involving them. I'm not sure what nice things they could actually come up with about Allardyce. "Allardyce, I admired the way you made a living as a professional footballer for twenty years without having any actual ability, I admired the way you were manager of Bolton Wanderers for twenty years without producing anything that could be remotely described as football and I especially liked the way you used your position to look after your nearest and dearest but if you came to me saying you wanted to be manager of Sunderland Football Club I'd say "Oi, Allardyce, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! Take your big fat chewing gum chewing face and your big fat Boro tattooed arse out of my office and piss off back to the dole queue. If you want another job in football apply at Histon whenever John Beck decides he's inflicted enough punishment on the beautiful game." Stupid fat bastard. Actually I might just have stumbled on why Allardyce makes these futile gestures in the papers. They don't let you claim dole any more unless you can prove you've been actively seeking work, do they? I suppose Big Fat Sam turns up at Jobseekers every other week with a roll of newspapers under his arm. "Have you applied for any jobs in the last two weeks Mr. Allardyce?" "Are you kidding? Just read these, are there any I haven't applied for is a better question." "Any luck Mr. Allardyce?" "Not really. Tottenham didn't want me, West Ham United didn't want me, Manchester City didn't want me, Blackburn Rovers didn't want me, Portsmouth didn't want me, Fulham didn't want me, Gareth Southgate still hasn't been hit by a train and the Americans went for some black bloke called Obama who I thought was actually their number one terror suspect. It's not easy out there but I have applied for the Sunderland job and I think I'll probably get that one so can I just have my giro please." "Sorry Mr. Allardyce you'll have to see the supervisor." "What? Do you know who I am?" What a prick. Talking of pricks, Cristiano Ronaldo. I can't stand the freak. United should have got rid in the summer. He think's he's bigger than the club and he might just be right. Ferguson was going to leave him out of the last European game but Ronaldo said he wanted to play so Ferguson let him have his way, coming on the tele drooling about the lads' attitude and commitment. What? Ronaldo actually wanted to play in the game, did he? They all want to play every game Ferguson, you fool. Do you really think Carlos Tevez prefers sitting on the bench watching that prick do his stupid little flick passes that go nowhere and then stand around with his hands on his hips for five minutes making the point that his teammates are all shit. Sell Ronaldo, get Tevez in and sign three more world class players to replace Ronaldo, Giggs and Scholes and there you are. You won't have to make a fool of yourself coming on the tele trying to defend his ridiculous, and fully justified, sending off at Man. City either. On the recent subject of pop songs for footballers I would also like to nominate the Pink Floyd christmas number one for the slimy Portuguese "superstar". In my opinion "All in all it's just a-nother free kick in the wall." His free kicks are shit. Finally, as we're on the subject of dickheads; Liverpool Football Club.
Percy - Monday, November 10 If Norbert really wants me to unleash some classic Depeche Mode into the "Potential Songs For Footballers" debate then I feel honour bound to oblige. The trouble with using DM songs to pay homage to footballers is that it is virtually impossible that the footballer in question is going to be worthy of the tune used. Norbert's own suggestion of turning Policy of Truth into a terrace chant about Robert Freaking Huth demonstrates this problem more than adequately. The song's an absolute all time masterpiece even by Depeche Mode standards while the footballer is just a great big German disaster area. Anyway, I was asked to suggest some Depeche Mode inspired terrace anthems so here goes. The Basildon Boys' one dance floor filler "Just Can't Get Enough" could be slightly tweaked by Watford supporters into "Jobi McAnuff" while Tottenham fans surely need to recognise the presence at White Hart Lane of "their own Personal Jenas". I'm not sure Nottingham Forest's supporters would have ever felt obliged to "Enjoy The Silenzi" but Everton followers might find the classic "Neville Let Me Down Again" an appropriate song for their accident prone utility player. Obviously I would like to utilise Shake The Disease, the greatest pop song ever made, for the purposes of this challenge but I think I might be clutching at straws with "Shake The De Zeeuw". It could catch on though. Having given this matter some thought over the past week or so I would like to nominate the ex Luton and Tottenham goalie, Milija Aleksic, as the best player ever when it comes to pop songs in his honour. Together In Aleksic Dreams (Phil Oakey & Giorgio Moroder), Are Friends Aleksic (Gary Numan), Aleksic Avenue (Eddy Grant), Aleksic Barbarella (Duran Duran), She's Aleksic (Oasis) and Aleksicity (OMD) are all options should Milija decide to make a comeback. It's also possible that Jimi Hendrix was really wondering "Have You Ever Been To Aleksic Ladyland?" I would imagine Jimi was a Hatter. One final one for the moment, and I think this is a good one. I'm not sure where veteran striker Sir Barry of Hayles is plying his trade these days but surely his latest set of supporters should be turning to the obvious Spandau Ballet classic for a few chorusses of "Through The Barry Hayles".
Norbert - Wednesday, November 5 Hello Perce (& folks) And, of course, when thinking of music, good old mad Manc Morrissey is never a bad place to start. I am a little disappointed with MR P.P for not coming up with a Depeche Mode classic for us, so I'll spare his blushes on that one with "Policy of Huth" (Which is presumably a song about being big, uncoordinated and shit at football, with a few violent undertones). Speaking of Undertones, there's surely a song or two worth looking at from them - "Teenage Kicks" has a few possibilities and Fulham fans may want to adopt "Jimmy, Jimmy" for their cult hero, Mr Bullard. Villa fans, whilst they're deciding on the lyrics for John Carew to the tune of Metal Guru, may also want to have a retro look at Mud and their classic Tiger Feet. Any opposing fans of Arsenal may want to chant away to a Pat Benatar Classic "Stop using Cesc as a weapon", and Chelsea fans may want to reminisce about "Deco beach, far away in time...". I'm sure this little segment has got some mileage in it, so I'm keeping one or two up my sleeve for later on. However, if anyone can come up with one for Pascal Zuberbuhler, I for one will be suitably impressed. Bring it on P.P. Percy - Tuesday, November 4 This is my last attempt at getting my Lucanesque colleague Norbert Wartle to come back to these parts and grace our presence with a contribution to this page. I have it on good authority that it was Mr Wartle who suggested to our Premier League correspondent that Aston Villa fans should sing a song about John Carew to the tune of Metal Guru. Ever since I saw that suggestion the idea has been playing on my mind and I have come up with several other possible songs that the fans of certain teams could use to hail and serenade their favourites. In doing so I now throw down the gauntlett to old Norbs and challenge him to better the offerings I am about to make. It'll take some doing because I am a bit of a genius when it comes to nonsensical stupidity but Norbert has his moments in that department as well so I'm taking nothing for granted. I'll start with a couple which I have already talked about on these pages in the past but they remain copyright of myself so I'm including them again. "What's The Story Nickey Shorey" is a natural classic from Oasis that Aston Villa fans should be making full use of while trying to decide what's the best Carew option and I can't believe Manchester United supporters, normally quick on this sort of thing, haven't yet turned to Kid Creole and the Coconuts for a version of "Nani, I'm Not Your Daddy". I'd like to offer a lyric option for that one too. If I was a United fan, or maybe an opposition fan, I would go for Nani, I'm not your daddy And that would be true. Turkish players seem well fitted for an adaptation of the Kajagoogoo favourite "Too Shy" with Tugay of Blackburn and Tuncay at Middlesbrough both available for first option on that one and 'Boro fans could really go to town by giving a rendition of "Downing The Tube Station At Midnight" by The Jam. I'm assuming somebodies' already done something with ABBA's "Voulez-Vous" for Luis Saha so I'll not claim that one but you could have Kenwyne Jones instead of "Nathan Jones" if you're a Sunderland fan, "Running Up Cahill" by Kate Bush is an option for both Bolton and Everton supporters while The Buzzcocks "Evra Fallen In Love With Someone" was surely written specifically for the Manchester United left back (or Patrick Kluivert's mini-me as I like to think of him). I'm almost through for the moment but if Liverpool fans don't have something for Daniel Agger to the tune of Black Lace's "Agadoo" then it's about time they got their act together. If he ever gets to mark Jason Lee or Lianne Sanderson then they can leave the line in about pushing pineapples untouched. And finally Blackburn have apparently also got a player in their side called Grella and I would like to think that the entire ground jumps out of their seats every time he gets the ball, starts doing a ridiculous chicken dance and sings "Grella, Grella, Grella, Ooh. Tell me more, tell me more" as per the Grease classic "Summer Nights". At this stage I would also like to give a mention to an old friend of mine John Wilson, sadly no longer with us, who always used to tell me that one of the lines in the Depeche Mode gay anthem "Boy's Say Go" went "I'm not Gary Shaw". I'm not very sure if that's a fact but it would probably have pleased a lot of gay men if it was. And one very last word to Norbert, assuming he does accept this challenge; don't go claiming "Joe-Max Moore, how do you like it?" as your own because I know you just copied that from some Everton fans you once met.
Percy - Thursday, October 30 It's always a dangerous thing to leave a few minutes before the end of a football game. It doesn't matter if you've got something else to go to or if your team are just playing like spastics, football games last for ninety minutes plus (as any badge wielding coach will tell you) and something amazing is just as likely to happen in the last couple of minutes as at any other time during the game. In fact, it's probably more likely to happen at the end. OK, you might beat the traffic or you can make the ultimate statement about your teams' inept performance but one of these days the decision to get the hell out of there a few minutes early will come back and bite you on the bum. It's unlikely that any Manchester United fans, other than George Best, had left The Nou Camp that night they beat Bayern Munich (and Bestie would have been happier knowing he was on his way to a Spanish bar anyway) but that is the sort of thing you can always miss when you make a premature dash for the exits. The team I support once did the same thing in a Freight Rover Trophy game away to Carlisle, scoring twice in the last minute to claim a "famous" 2-1 win but they couldn't fool me. I hadn't gone in the first place. Last night Tottenham Hotspur did the dirty on several hundred of their fans. Despite a valiant showing in a pulsating game, with the game approaching added on time Spurs were heading for their customary defeat at Arsenal as they trailed 4-2. With the rain pouring down and the visitors vainly striving to pull off an unlikely comeback many of their supporters decided that an earlier tube home was preferable to witnessing another scene of Arsenal celebration and gloating at the final whistle and headed for the exits. They will be kicking themselves this morning. Suddenly certain, predictable defeat was turned into amazing, glorious victory (well, a draw but victory will never have tasted sweeter to those still present). The man all Spurs fans should be drinking a toast to is Gael Clichy who decided to fall over near the halfway line for no apparent reason which allowed Jermaine Jenas to run through a score an absolute peach and with their danders lit the visitors poured forward to claim a 4-4 draw when Modric's shot rebounded from the post for Aaron Lennon to slide home the equaliser. Unbelievable. As if it hadn't been dramatic enough anyway without a ball rebounding of the post to then be tucked away. Nothing gives such an ecstatic high to a football fan as seeing their team hit the post but then convert the rebound. From massive low to massive high in a moment. They are Class A goals and should really be banned. Anyway, the decision of so many Spurs fans to depart before this all happened did leave more space for those remaining to go mental in and they didn't waste the opportunity. I've got to say I have little sympathy for those who did leave early. They must have known that Arsenal were going to win when they bought their tickets for the match and therefore should have been pretty chuffed with a score of 4-2 with only a few minutes to go. Finally, a mention should also go to Manuel Almunia for allowing Spurs to take an early lead and thereby making all the following drama possible. How the hell did he end up diving full length to punch David Bentley's 97 yard volley into his own net when he could have just stood still and brought it down on his chest?
Percy - Wednesday, October 8 I was interested to read that our Premier League reporter reckons Aston Villa fans should come up with a decent song about centre forward John Carew. He suggested something to the tune of Metal Guru by T Rex. Personally I would like to suggest (Hey You) The Rocksteady Crew by Rocksteady Crew as a better song to utilise. This was a song that always intrigued me a little bit. It was the kind of song you used to find yourself singing along to without realising you were doing it and it was a song that you never had a clue what the words were. This makes it ideal for turning into a football chant. The other thing I remember about this song is the words I used to put to it. They might have been right but I somehow doubt it. "Hey, you, the rocksteady crew, Were those the right words? Maybe not, but what a magical being the logical gnu must have been. You can imagine intrepid explorers and warriors of yore seeking out the logical gnu to find out the directions to strange new lands or to learn if they would be successful in an upcoming battle. If anybody was going to help them in their quests it had to be the logical gnu. I'm not sure what the words should be to the John Carew version but I would suggest that it should start "Hey, you, big John Carew" and finish "It's a logical gnu." Having posted this I think I shall now pay YouTube a quick visit and type in "Rocksteady Crew" and have a little listen to the song in question, I haven't heard it in donkeys years. After that I'm going to type in "logical gnu" and see if anything comes up.
Percy - Thursday, September 25 I suppose I'll have to assume that Joleon Lescott doesn't bother keeping up to date with the observations and opinions of Percy Piranhafish. It might be better for himself and Everton Football Club in general if he did. Having pointed out his schoolboy defending against Blackburn on the opening day of the season I would have expected Mr Lescott to have his wits about him but what should I see, having tuned in to the last ten minutes of Everton's UEFA Cup tie with Standard Liege, but the aforementioned defender posing for a statue as a bog standard, left to right, diagonal ball dropped over his shoulder to leave an opponent clean through on goal. This time he got away with it as said opponent managed to leave the ball behind him as he bore down on Tim Howard and Lescott was able to get back, survive penalty appeals, and clear. There's no point posing for statues if you're gonna defend like that, Joleon, cos there ain't gonna be any. Talking of Standard Liege I think I should congratulate them on completing a resounding double over the two Merseyside clubs. Having faced Liverpool in the Champions League and then Everton in the UEFA Cup within a few weeks of each other the Liege fans can take a bow after absolutely, totally and utterly wiping the floor with the fans of both English clubs in the chanting stakes. Anfield, famous for it's European night atmospheres, has seldom known such a din as the Belgian fans unleashed a constant barrage of guttural war crys that overwhelmed the limp responses of the Kop. On to Goodison Park and the Everton fans found themselves just as comprehensively drowned out by the Terrible Tonsils of Belgique. Finally, and still on Everton, I also mentioned Luis Saha in my last post. It's the last time anybody has done. I hope Everton have also signed an extra physio just in case any of their other players get injured.
Percy - Saturday, August 30 Haven't had much to say about this season so far, basically the Premier League gets more boring by the second. I know I seem to be in the minority but where exactly is the enjoyment in seeing players who love their clubs like Gerrard and Lampard holding those clubs to ransom before eventually signing contracts that could end up putting said clubs out of business? That might sound ludicrous but it only takes one Russian billionaire to $*!% off back to Russia or one ridiculously average team from Merseyside to cock up in a Champions League qualifier against a team from, let's say for the sake of argument, Belgium and how exactly would the likes of Chelsea or Liverpool pay their players? Of course this situation becomes even more tedious when it is one of the foreign legion holding one of our clubs to ransom. Take a bow Mr. Berbatov. Not that I feel sorry for any of the Premier League clubs or their supporters. They're all as bad as each other. They'll sell their club and their soul to anybody flashing enough cash no matter how that money was gained and not even think about asking any questions. A club like Tottenham will cry blue murder when another club taps up one of their players but they will act in exactly the same way with any other club that they think they can bully. And it's basically the same with half the fans. They pull on the colours of whoever's most convenient but would they be there if that club suddenly dropped a couple of divisions? In most cases, no they wouldn't. So far, therefore, I have narrowed my Premier League observations to the goings on at one club, Everton. I thought Joleon Lescott laid down a fair marker for the worst offside appeal of the season award on the opening day against Blackburn. Lescott turned to ice as a long ball travelled through the sky and dropped over his shoulder but he must still have been aware of Roque Santa Cruz ambling past him to collect said through ball before stroking it calmly past Tim Howard, brutally exposed in the Everton goal. Apparently not. It seemed to come as a massive shock to Lescott finding Santa Cruz mysteriously goal side of him and he thawed out just in time to raise an arm in appeal as the ball was hitting the back of the net. Surprisingly the linesman was not fooled and allowed the goal to stand. Perhaps said official was still chuckling about the incident when he allowed Rovers' injury time winner to stand. I also had to indulge in an ironic chuckle while watching the highlights of Everton's second game of the season on Match of the Day. They went to West Brom with a pretty threadbare squad and didn't look like they were playing particularly well but they had managed to take a one goal lead by the time the incident occured. West Brom were trying to mount an attack which was ended by a fairly agricultural clearance by somebody, possibly Lescott but I couldn't swear to that. You could hear sections of the home support raising a mocking cry of "Hoof!" as the ball sailed forward but this must have stuck in their throats somewhat as their own centre half suddenly caught the turning to ice disease allowing Yakubu to loop a simple header over Scott Carson who had advanced into no mans land to make the finish as simple as possible. Message to any reading Baggies; you were a good footballing side in The Championship but you probably don't want to get too carried away about your sides ability to take the piss at this level. Finally the Goodison club have managed to join in the transfer market stupidity and have made up for lost time by stealing everyones' thunder by signing Luis Saha from Manchester United. It was bound to happen, somebody sometime was going to be desperate enough to raid the Old Trafford morgue and take Saha off their hands. Physio Basil Rathbone has always been keen on his natural remedies, almost pagan in fact, and his methods are going to get a thorough examination by the flimsy striker. If Rathbone can get Saha onto the field more than five times a season I think he will have earned himself a whopping bonus but the signing begs the question what chance is there for a young English hopeful like James Vaughan? If Saha was to miraculously stay fit then Vaughan will be confined to odd appearances from the bench and any chance of him developing into the player he could be will be drastically reduced. If you think England are struggling now give it another five or ten years and come back to see what damage the magnificent Premier League will have done to our national side. It will be carnage.
Percy - Thursday, August 14 This morning I was having a dream in which I was being challenged to recite the words of The Human League song "Life On Your Own". I was rhyming off the words no problem at all. It was a really vivid dream and there is every chance I was actually singing it in my sleep. Anyhow, I then sort of half woke up and I could remember the dream so I started trying to remember the words and I was struggling like a madman. I finally remembered the opening, "Winter is approaching, there's snow upon the ground. It's good of you to visit me, I'm glad you came around", but after that I was struggling again and could only get random lines and not in the right order. Not surprisingly, given my mental torment at this stage, I couldn't get back to sleep and I therefore had little option but to get up, even though it was miles earlier than I normally fall out of the sack. With time to kill I decided to get the internet on and check out a couple of the videos of the said Human League classic which have been put on that magnificent site YouTube. I then typed in "Parole Officer" and somebody had obligingly downloaded the whole film (in nine bite size packages) so I watched that as well. So I was a bit pissed off at being up at a stupid time but I enjoyed myself all the same. The Parole Officer actually has one of Norbert's players from his Womens Fantasy XI in it but unfortunately Jenny Agutter never looks remotely likely to shed her clothes in this one. She's getting on a bit in it but she's still quality so it wouldn't have been a bad thing if she had done. It's good to see our half human, half billy goat tipster Minty sticking his neck out and predicting where everyone in the Premier League is going to finish this season. Obviously I'm going to take issue with a few of his opinions though. Firstly I don't fancy United to make it three titles on the trot. Winning three titles on the bounce is not easy, even in this day and age when only two or three clubs are allowed to win it, and I think the lack of new signings will count against them with Ronaldo injured early doors and Scholesy and, in particular, Giggsy getting past it. Personally I would have booted Ronaldo out of the door months ago and signed Berbatov, Ribery, Arshavin and Kelly Smith instead. I might have already told you that but the idea just seems more and more sensible every time I think about it. I think it's fair to say that I have a deeper knowledge of The Championship than Minty as well and on that basis I'm also going to disagree with his predictions for the newly promoted clubs. Minty reckons Hull will survive, West Brom will go down and that Stoke will be worse than Derby were last season. I'm going to say that Stoke will finish the highest of the newly promoted teams, provided they don't play Richard Cresswell too often, and I'll really stick my neck out by saying that all three of them will survive the season. "Gadzooks" I hear you saying, yet if Piranhafish says it is to be so then you know it is already written in the stars. I suppose you will want to know which teams are going to occupy those dreaded bottom three positions then, won't you? Manchester City will be one, for sure, Blackburn Rovers will be another and I have a strong gut feeling that David Moyes's Everton will flirt with danger once too often and finally plunge into the murky waters of The Championship. Don't forget where you heard it first boys and girls. And by the way, I still can't work out which of The Human League girls I fancied the most.
Percy - Friday, August 1 Tight At The Top Tight at the top? That's what it's going to be in the Premier League this season and you don't have to take my word for it. Just listen to any of the players who have recently been transferred in the Premier League, or their managers, and you will begin to understand just how overcrowded the top of the table is going to be. After all, you probably wouldn't have expected Sunderland to be amongst the leaders but that noted sage, El Hadji Diouf, reckons they are destined for a top eight finish. Diouf, of course, has just signed for The Black Cats. No doubt while he was still with Bolton he and his former mates had been targeting Sunderland as one of the teams they needed to finish above just to survive but there you go. David Bentley, apparent lifetime Spurs fan despite the fact that last season he was telling everyone that actually he's a born and bred notherner, reckons his new team are destined for the top four. Aston Villa are supposed to be so confident of improving on last seasons' 6th place finish that they've dreamt up a new contract for Gareth Barry that allows him to walk out and pick his own club next year if they don't. That means Villa might well end up in a Champions League spot alongside Peter Crouch's new/old club Portsmouth. The Lanky One reckons that's where Pompey are destined. Ben Haim has moved from Chelsea to Manchester City because he wants to win things, sensible choice then, which means that we must expect a big improvement from Sparky Hughes' team. Cesc Fabregas has also warned his employers that they need to start winning trophies so Arsenal need to up the ante somewhat as well. And all this optimism abounds despite the fact that Big Phil Scolari has opined that his Chelsea side can go out and win everything this time around. That load of bollocks is just about as bad as finding out the bizarre teams some of our newly transferred stars have been lifelong supporters of. Then there are the players who simply have strange dreams and ambitions. I've already mentioned David Bentley and his love of Spurs but how about Valon Behrami who reckons his move to West Ham is "a dream come true." Valon, whoever you may be and wherever you may come from, if you are telling the truth that means you've actually dreamt about being transferred to West Ham during your lifetime. I think you are a liar, and probably a crap footballer. If you were going to dream about being transferred to a different club surely you would pick one where all the new signings don't immediately suffer career ending injuries. Paul Robinson also stretched credibility when he claimed that Blackburn was "the only place I wanted to go." Jesus, that's the bizarrest thing anyone's ever said. I wish Manchester United had put in a last minute bid though, just so Robbo could have really proved that he meant what he had said. Of course the erstwhile England number one didn't let us in on that little secret until after he'd actually signed. Presumably he reckoned that if the club knew how eager he was to join them they would have halved his wages. Last, and most sickeningly of all, there is Robbie Keane and his drooling confessions to a lifelong love of all things Liverpool. Even though this is the most believable of all the pre-season claims (he is Irish so he will have supported either Liverpool or Manchester United) it remains the most obnoxious. Irish Robbie Keane and his love for Liverpool. Pass the spew bucket right now.
Percy - Wednesday, July 23 I think I probably said the same thing at this time last season but how bad are pre season friendlies? Specifically, how bad are pre season friendlies being shown live on television? What a pile of dog dirt. There is no excuse for this to happen and anybody who makes a special effort to watch these games needs to take a long hard look at themselves in the mirror. You also have to ask questions about people who go to watch pre season friendlies and end up celebrating like madmen if their team happens to win one of them. It's not too bad if it's a smaller club managing a decent result against a bigger boy but you have to wonder about, for instance, the couple of thousand Aston Villa fans who were going beserk as their team scraped a 3-2 win at Walsall. Having said that I suppose those couple of thousand have at least seen Wayne Routledge score for the club which is more than most Villa fans will probably ever be able to say. On a happier note I see we have had a sighting of Les Bradd sent in by one of our readers which has just been published onto the site. Apparently the guy who wrote in had met Bradd while he was "swimming in the Stratford Upon Avon area". There was no mention of it being at the swimming baths or anything so I hope the former Notts County stalwart was simply getting from A to B along the River Avon as his preferred mode of transport these days. You never know, after all, Les played in the days before people got paid £150,000 a week and maybe has to rely on Shanks's Pony to get around. But that was perhaps his own fault. Despite scoring goals for fun for The Magpies for a decade Les probably didn't kiss the club badge as often as some fat bastards we could mention. Finally, and this is perhaps slightly irrelevent, but does anybody else out there get irrationally irritated when women start chatting about babies or their children and the other women they are talking to start saying "Ah, bless" every five seconds. "My little Jemima said Mama last night." "Ah, bless." "Our Johnny fell over and split his head open at the weekend, he needed 337 stitches in it and he didn't cry once." "Ah, bless." "Little Frankie's just turned thirteen and he mugged his first pensioner half an hour ago." "Ah, bless." "Percy Piranhafish went on the rampage and kidnapped every woman in England who had said "Ah, Bless" in the previous 24 hours, glued them to a fleet of Sealink ferries and watched them sail away to various European ports while sitting naked in a deckchair above the white cliffs of Dover with only a supermarket trolly full of Carling Premier for company." "Ah, bless."
Percy - Tuesday, July 1 As any expert will tell you there were massive lessons to be learnt by us English from the recently completed European Championships. I, Percy Piranhafish, certainly agree with this opinion. Having studied these championships in great detail my advice to any aspiring youngster is that if you do ever make it into the full England side and you have to line up for a team photo then make sure you stand up on the back row. If you squat down on the front row and the picture ends up in the Panini sticker album in one of those things were you have to put four stickers in to make the full photo you end up looking like Peter Beardsley. Credit to Carlos Puyol, he looked like that even though he skilfully managed to keep his head away from the join. See, there really are valuable lessons to be heeded from our foreign friends if we are just wise enough to keep open minds.
Percy - Wednesday, June 25 It's all a bit quiet really on the football front. There's apparently something happening over in Europe but we weren't invited so that doesn't really count but it does seem to be holding up the usual summer transfer frenzy over here. All we really have to chew on at the moment are the same old chestnuts. Ronaldo continues to lead Alex Ferguson a merrier dance than he managed with any of the Euro 2008 defenders he came up against but when Fergie finally catches up with him the challenge is likely to be a bad one. Personally I would have just flogged him off already for the biggest wedge of cash I could extort out of Real Freaking Madrid or anybody else with a spare 100 million quid. By now I would have signed Berbatov, Arshavin and Ribery or Aaron Lennon to replace him. Bargain. That would also have taken care of the problem of replacing Giggs and Scholes as well. Nice one. It's no wonder I'm the greatest Championship Manager ever. Another transfer saga is the Peter Crouch fiasco. Portsmouth have now had a nine million quid bid rejected. Crouch cost Liverpool seven million and they don't want him but they expect a 50% profit on their reject goods. Unbelievable. The worst thing is somebody will no doubt cave in a give it them. Don't bother. Just leave him sitting there rotting in Liverpool's reserves for Christ's sake. If teams outside the top four really want to catch up with them they need to stop paying over the odds for their rejects, thereby allowing them to go out and rectify their mistakes at a neat profit. After all, if Portsmouth try hard enough surely they can find a striker somewhere in the world for nine million quid who's as good as Peter Freaking Crouch. Finally another word about the truly unpleasant Sam Allardyce. I saw an interview with him on that Sky Sports News thing the other day. Absolutely disgusting. First off he made a sly hint about something or other having happened to prompt him to withdraw from the running to be Blackburn Rovers manager. He didn't say what but it was a typical piece of scandal mongering. Surely the only reason this completely self centred freak pulled out of the running was the fact that he obviously wasn't going to get the job and, no doubt to his horror, it was going to be given to someone without his beloved Pro Licence nonsense again. Big Fat Sam hates that. He even went on to say that he had left the race open to somebody else. What a great bloke. Disturbingly he then went on to say that he is now a better manager than ever (not sure how he works that out) and that everyone now understands that what happened at Newcastle when he was manager wasn't his fault. Jesus Christ. Am I missing something here? Had the fat idiot been kidnapped by aliens or something and a gum sucking replicant from outer space sent to St James' Park in his place? It wasn't your fault Sam? You really are an arsehole. Then, most disgustingly of all, he went on to basically say that he was waiting for the sack race to begin so that he could start begging for somebody elses' job. Now all out of work managers must think that, I suppose, but they don't come out and say it. Big Fat "don't judge me for five years" Sam should certainly not say it. He got all stroppy when his job at Newcastle was under pressure and he came out and told everybody he should have five years to prove himself. Now he is licking his big fat slavvering lips at the prospect of all and sundry being in the same position so that he can step into their shoes. He won't be coming out telling everybody that so and so should be allowed another five years when somebody suffers a few early season defeats, will he? And he has the nerve to say that he stepped aside to leave the Blackburn job to somebody else. Sam Allardyce wouldn't turn his nose up at anything.
Percy - Tuesday, June 17 It's hard not to feel depressed when the rest of Europe is letting its' hair down and getting on with the business of the European Championships while we're sat at home studying next seasons' fixture list to find out when our biggest local derbies are. It got so bad last week that some mush from The Premier League actually came out and stated the obvious fact that our league of all nations was not actually helping the England team. For such treason his colleagues immediately disowned him and his job security is now apparently about the same as Mark Hughes'. For anybody who cares about English football, or just football to be honest, surely the most depressing blot on the landscape at the moment is the huge, steaming cesspit that is Big Fat Sam Allardyce who is, incredibly, one of the leading contenders for the Blackburn Rovers job. I've spoken to several Blackburn fans recently and they are all suitably disgusted at the possibility that Allardyce might soon be managing their club. While all fans try to wipe their memories clean of the garbage that was a Blackburn versus Bolton encounter during Allardyce's time in charge at The Reebok it is not actually possible to completely forget, or forgive. Now they have the prospect of that rubbish staring them in the face every week. Well, not so much staring them in the face as staring them somewhere in the night sky a couple of miles above Ewood Park. This can't have been a happy few weeks for your average Blackburn fan. They've had to watch Hughes depart, David Bentley trying his best to do the same while trying to figure out who would be a worse manager between Allardyce and Alan Shearer. At least Shearer would have brought with him some good memories of when he was a player at the club but would he make a good manager? He is so boring in his job as summariser for the BBC that it is hard to imagine him having much motivational skill in the dressing room while his insights into the game are scarcely earth shattering. But Shearer decided that he was going to carry on treating us all to his pearls of boring wisdom so Rovers have had to look elsewhere and that's where Big Fat Sam could come in. Jesus Christ. I can't believe anybody would even consider giving him another job. And what does it suggest about the future of English football? If he is the best we can come up with as a manager and his type of football is allowed to continue then when exactly are we going to be able to compete at international level? I wonder if he was chewing gum all the way through his interview, the big fat slob.
Percy - Friday, June 6 Here we are on the eve, or maybe it's the eve of the eve, of the European Championships and I see our website has provided a handy guide to which nation the average Englishman should support. I've read it through carefully but it hasn't changed my original opinion, I don't want any of them to win it. I don't know if I'll bother watching any of it. It's not great when you're just "supporting" the team you dislike the least. And it won't be long before the whining and cheating will start to really get on your nerves as Johnny Foreigner tries to find out just who can stoop the lowest when it comes to gamesmanship and general unpleasantness. I would imagine Ricardo Carvalho has a pretty good chance of coming out on top in that particular competition. I see there's a lot of speculation regarding his international colleague, Ronaldo, at the moment. Apparently young Cristiano might be about to exchange Old Trafford for the Bernabeau, although Alex Ferguson has also apparently said that he will rot in the reserves first. That might sound like just a typical piece of Fergie nonsense but it might actually not be such a bad idea. Although United would miss out on the huge transfer fee the gate receipts from their reserve games would go through the roof. I suppose most United fans will be biting their nails over Ronaldo's possible departure while those who love to hate the Old Trafford club will be licking their lips in anticipation but it would certainly be interesting to see how it affected United if he did up sticks for Madrid. With the dirty great transfer fee they received for his signature United could then always go out and sign a better centre forward, Dimitar Berbatov perhaps, and a better winger, Franck Ribery perhaps, and still have change left over to buy a player they really need, an attacking midfielder perhaps. If they did that they would also have three more players who were only concerned about playing for the team, which in turn would probably bring out even more from Rooney and Tevez. While all this was going on Ronaldo might just be finding out that it isn't quite so much fun playing for a team where everyone else thinks that they are the main man as well. All pure speculation, of course, but as Audrey Hepburn might say, in the best Cockney accent she could muster, "Wouldn't it be Ribery?"
Percy - Saturday, May 17 Just watched the cup final and not got time to say much but there was only one real talking point thrown up by events at Wembley today as far as I could see. If you were given the choice would it be Lesley Garrett or Katherine Jenkins? I reckon I know which one Norbert would choose and I'm pretty glad about his choice cos that leaves Katherine Jenkins free for me when the four of us bump into each other in the pub. Also I've got to point out to Garrett that it's no good showing off at footy games when you're singing the national anthem with all that opera nonsense. Pissed up Joe Public just wants to bellow it out as quickly and as loudly as he can and showing off making each syllable last ten seconds is just completely unnecessary and totally out of place. In fact it's a bit like having Sid Waddell taking Pavarotti's place in the Three Tenors. Having your tits out for the lads is, however, fair enough. Well done on that score, Lesley.
Percy - Saturday, May 10 Jesus, it's amazing how quickly your weekend can be completely freaking wrecked, isn't it? Now, I'm faced with a pretty busy schedule of doing nothing inparticular this weekend and was happily getting on with the job of doing it when I decided to break off from my official itinerary and slip in an impromptu half an hour of sticking the twenty packets of Euro 2008 Panini stickers I bought this morning into my Panini Euro 2008 sticker book. Happy days, you would think, but no. I had already suffered a little tinge of depression as the realisation that England aren't going to be taking part in this tournament struck me afresh when I made the fatal mistake of switching on the television. I headed for that Sky Sports News thingy and they were just introducing their "special guests" for the afternoon. First up Lewis Moody. No interest in rugby union, no interest in you, Lewis. By the same token I don't feel like jumping out of the window yet. Second up Chris Adams. Second rate cricketer, probably second rate pundit. But I'm still not eyeing up the window. Now the problems start. Third up Steve Freaking McLaren. Jesus H. Christ. The man's a turd at the best of times but when you're just settling down to start filling up your Euro 2008 Panini sticker book. Jesus H. Christ. And there he is with the same stupid grin on his face. Like an eight year boy who's just farted in church. Silly, orange haired knobhead. Why do they humour that prick by getting him on as an expert pundit. Did he ever do anything as England manager that even hinted that he might have some sort of idea about what was going on? Did he ever venture anything that could be even loosely described as an opinion or an insight? Or was he just a cock? Having said all that I was still prepared to let this one go and just try to ignore the fact that the silly prick was there at all. But then came guest number four. Billy The Freaking Midget Davies. JESUS H. CHRIST. Billy The Freaking Midget Davies. I can't begin to tell you how much I hate that freak of nature. I'll try though. I have always said that if I was handed one bullet by the government and granted amnesty to use it then it would undoubtedly be heading towards the right eye socket of a certain Phil Collins. Now I'm not so sure. Now it might be heading towards the stupid midget head of Billy The Freaking Midget Davies. I don't like him. And all the things I've said about McLaren above as reasons why he shouldn't be employed as an expert go double for The Midget. I suppose in this day and age of political correctness all sections of society have to be represented on television but surely they could have found a less offensive midget to come on their show. And one that would have known more about football as well. Basically I don't like him. Anyway, the upshot was I turned the tele straight off before he'd had the chance to open his gob and say something indecipherable in Scottish. There's a thought. If they'd wanted an indecipherable Scottish midget just to fill up a few political correctness boxes in one go why didn't they get that freak who played one of Rab C. Nesbitt's sons? That would have been far better. I was all set to jump out of the window but finally decided to vent my anger/disgust/insanity on these pages instead. Thanks for listening.
Percy - Thursday, May 8 Apparently Rafa Benitez wants to sign Gareth Barry from Aston Villa so he puts in a bid of 10 million quid. Or rather he bids some driftwood and cash that he reckons adds up to the value of 10 million quid. Rafa doesn't want Peter Crouch, which was obvious anyway because he never picked him, but he reckons he's worth 15 million quid. We can only wonder what Rafa will want for Dirk Kuyt when he comes to auction that useless freak off. Not surprisingly Aston Villa are not impressed with Rafa's estimates. I'd not be impressed if I was Gareth Barry. I would not want to go and play for a manager who thinks I'm only two thirds as good as Peter Crouch. And if Rafa only thinks I'm two thirds as good as Crouch will he ever pick me? After all, he never picked The Lanky One. No, no, no, no, no. If you have anything about you at all Gareth you'll stay at Villa and carry on playing with Ashley and Gabby. Martin will buy two or three other good uns in the summer and then you'll be better than Liverpool anyway. And if Stevie G is such a good friend he'll obviously come and play for Villa. Of course if Martin decides to sign Peter Crouch then you need to get down to Anfield ASAP. Don't even stop to pack bags.
Percy - Wednesday, April 30 So it's going to be an "All English" Champions League final after Manchester United knocked out Barcelona last night and now await the winners of tonights' game between Chelsea and Liverpool. Two English teams in the final, three in the semis and all four of them making it through to the quarter finals. And when one of our clubs is crowned as European champions the other three will have all been knocked out by other English teams. Jesus, we really are the masters of Europe, aren't we? This being the case I suppose England must be nailed on certs to win this summers' European Championships. Mustn't we? Yes, I suppose we must. Maybe that's why I can't get odds on us at Ladbrokes.
Percy - Tuesday, April 29 It really is. This website has spent most of its' lifetime bitterly bemoaning the fact that nobody at the FA would get on with it and just sack Sven Goran Eriksson as his tenure as England manager became ever more frustrating, timid and pointless yet now I am faced with the job of commenting on the absurdity of the apparent decision by Manchester City's owner to relieve Sven of his post as manager at Manchester City. It was rumoured that the freak who now owns City had a poor record on human rights and it would appear that Sven will soon be in a good position to testify to that. Sven has been in charge at City for less than a year and has significantly improved performances, results and the squad. In fact the job he has done is probably more impressive than first appearances suggest. Having taken over a truly uninspiring squad Sven took the bold decision to make genuine wholesale changes. In effect he signed an entirely new team in the summer. Most observers thought it would take at least a season for Sven to knit the players together into a team but he actually managed to get his side performing straight away and this season has represented a marked improvement on anything the club has managed in recent years. No flirting with relegation, two wins against United, another successful youth cup campaign, no goalkeepers asked to play centre forward and general optimism on the terraces regarding the clubs' immediate future. All this seems to have washed over the head of the clubs' owner who, it must be assumed, took over expecting City to qualify for the Champions League at the first attempt. Now Frank Sinatra, or whatever his name is, might go on to make fools of us all but it is more likely that he will be appointing seven managers a season if he really expects someone to come in and magically turn his club into a force straight away. If the rumours are true and City do sack Eriksson in the summer it will be one of footballs' more bizarre dismissals although I won't be shedding too may tears for Sven. He is probably still getting paid for being England manager and will get another massive pay out if City do get shut. On this occasion it's probably the City supporters who deserve sympathy. They finally get a manger who looks as though he basically knows what he's doing, they have a season where the club seems to be heading in the right direction and then they are hit by some friendly fire. The situation was summed up perfectly by Noel Gallagher in an interview I heard on the BBC website. Gallagher was able to speak with the passion and anger of the average football fan while retaining the eloquence and wit which make him a world class songwriter in expressing his dismay and disgust at the recent events at his club. It is well worth a listen. Gallagher actually gives Manchester City, a club that it is pretty easy to poke fun at, some genuine street credibility. He is a genuine celebrity with genuine talent and his passion for football and the club is obviously real and longstanding and not just something he has latched onto in a bid to increase his own position as a celebrity. Gallagher might also be a reason why I don't hear my United mates singing a ditty which they used to trot out quite frequently. As per my previous post the song, which contained about a thousand verses, always finished up with the line "Cos City are a massive club." It was hugely ironic in tone and gave several reasons why City might be considered a massive club. One of my favourite reasons was "They had a local derby with Macclesfield" but there were lots and lots of others which the United fans obviously thought were well worth bringing up to poke fun at their neighbours. One of these, however, was "They've got Curly Watts as a celebrity fan." Now that verse has had to be binned and it looks as though the song's gone with it. No point pretending Curly Watts is City's number one celebrity fan when Noel Gallagher's out there. And Gallagher certainly wipes the celebrity floor with Terry Christian, Mick Hucknall and Eamonn Freaking Holmes. And that's before we even start considering Ricky Hatton. Maybe City could start their own version. "They've got Eamonn Holmes as a celebrity fan, cos United are a massive club." They'll need a few more verses but maybe Sir Noel could pen some for them. How about "They nicked David Bellion off Sunderland, cos United are a massive club." Before I go, and having had a gentle dig at United there, let me just say one more thing. I was actually working tonight so haven't seen much of the football but I was following it on the internet and have had a quick look on YouTube since I got home to check out the events at Old Trafford and the words "Paul Scholes" and "Legend" seem to have been tagged together quite a lot. Hyperbole is the usual style of the football supporter, I suppose, but I don't think anyone could really quibble with that one. Imagine having a Scholesy at your club and then decide whether you would think they were a legend. Not a tough one, is it?
Percy - Tuesday, April 8 I was interested to read this week that Manchester City have been in talks with Ronaldinho's representatives about the possibility of the goofy one swapping the Nou Camp for the City of Manchester Stadium. The undoubted highlight of the report in question was a comment apparently made by Sven Goran Eriksson in which he assured Ronaldinho that there would be a place for him in the City starting line up if he did agree to the move. I can just imagine that Ronaldinho was sitting there in Spain thinking that he'd love to go and play for Man City except that he probably wouldn't be good enough to actually get a shirt. Nice of Sven Goran to reassure him on that point. Maybe he should also have taken the opportunity of pointing out to Ronnie that City are a massive club while he was at it. Another comment I was interested in this week was attributed to Liverpool's Rafa Benitez. Rafa apparently opined that having spent 20 years at Real Madrid he was well aware that second was not good enough, or words to that effect. It does seem slightly strange for someone whose one mission in life seems to be to finish fourth to come out with that one.
Percy - Wednesday, March 26 One of the highlights of the 2002 World Cup finals was being in the pub at about six o'clock in the morning supping beer and singing "His name is Rio and he dances in Japan." Nobody could come up with another line so I just carried on singing the normal Duran Duran lyrics which are quality so I was still quite happy. I might go round to Norbert's later on, stand outside his house while he's having his tea and start singing "His name is Rio and he wears the captains armband." If I do though I expect to be met by water cannon fire at the very least. Old Norbs has a quite passionate dislike of Sir Rio and I'm a bit surprised and disappointed that his selection as captain of England has not inspired one of my colleagues' sporadic foaming at the mouth rants. I know Capello's handing the armband out like raffle tickets at the moment in the desperate, and probably forlorn, hope that one of our players emerges as a natural leader but I'm still not entirely sure that Rio is a wise choice. Unlike Norbert I have no problems with RF as a player. Generally the guy's magnificent (just ask Fernando Torres but not Benjani Whatshisname from Man City) but he strikes me as someone who needs to concentrate on nothing but his own performance or there might be trouble. You never know though, the extra responsibility might magically transform Rio into the most diligent, responsible, inspiring personage the game in this country has seen since Bobby Moore or Captain Marvel himself, Gerry Francis. Now, can I think of another line for my Rio song? "His name is Rio and he wears the captains armband. Just like Bobby Moore he is captain of England. And when he shines he's usually wearing red. Oh Rio, Rio dance all over Thierry Henry's head."
Percy - Friday, March 21 Doo Doo Doo Dooby Dooby Doo, Happy Easter. Doo Doo Doo Dooby Dooby Doo, Happy Easter. If you're not having a happy easter then why don't you follow my routine. In a minute I'm going to watch Bargain Hunt while eating a plate of sausage and beans on toast and then I'm going to find my video of the film Easter Parade and watch that. It's freaking magnificent. Fred Astaire and Judy Garland on top form and sassy Ann Miller cranking it up as well. Magnificent. A bunny, for my honey. I can hardly wait. Some great songs in Easter Parade but a song I'm having to take issue with at the moment is Elton John's "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word." Having heard Ashley Cole coming over all contrite yesterday I don't think sorry is the hardest word. It seems to be an easy word. Ashley behaves like a spoilt little brat again and then gives everyone a very insincere sounding apology and no doubt he thinks he's free to carry on behaving as he chooses all over again. Sorry's not a hard word to say but it's a hard word to mean. I'm not overly convinced about Ashley's true state of penitence. It's far truer to say that actions speak louder than words and the true test of Ashley's repentance will be his future conduct. I'm reminded of Dennis Leary's rant about celebs who lose the plot then come over all sanctimonious after a spell in rehab. Dennis decides that he's going to go on a bender of booze and drugs, beat his children, pop into rehab for a bit and then go on the cover of People magazine with the message, "I Fucked Up. Sorry!" Whether behaving badly and saying sorry is enough to retain other peoples' trust and respect is debatable of course as Ashley is no doubt finding out in both his professional and personal life at the moment. As for the incidents involving Cole at Tottenham the other night I would just about give him some benefit of doubt about his bad challenge on Hutton, although he should definitely have been sent off, but his subsequent behaviour towards Mike Riley was beyond pathetic and worthy of at least a second yellow to equal a red. Grow up Ashley. Anyway, on a happier note, I could write a sonnet about your easter bonnet.
Percy - Thursday, February 21 There are no doubt a few football followers who don't think much of Paul Gascoigne and they might well react to the news of his latest problems with indifference or even a knowing smirk. It is certainly easy to knock the man. As a footballer he was tremendously gifted but spoiled his talent with reckless behaviour both on and off the pitch. Since his playing days finished it would appear as though he has become a seriously troubled human being. Gascoigne obviously found it difficult coping with fame but it is easy to imagine that he struggles even more to come to terms with life away from the limelight. It is no great surprise to hear of Gascoigne's latest troubles, he has been detained under the mental health act after incidents in a hotel, and, to be honest, it is difficult to feel any real belief that he will ever manage to come to terms with or conquer his demons. I, for one, hope Gascoigne is able to confound us all and recover from his troubles to lead something resembling a normal life. I wouldn't want Gazza to lead a completely normal life. He obviously wasn't cut out for it. But it would be nice if he learnt how to curb his excesses and found contentment while still being able to do the things he enjoys, which would appear to be having a drink and having a laugh. I also hope that the next time I see a picture of him he's more like the plump young man who made his name at Newcastle and not the disturblingly gaunt figure who was last seen in football togs. Gascoigne, perhaps, did more than anybody to steer English football away from the grim as death status it endured through the 1980's towards the bright, brave new world of the 1990's and beyond. He made the world laugh and cry during the 1990 World Cup finals and became one of the very few Englishmen who have been able to really impose themselves on the biggest footballing stage of them all. Unlike the feted modern day superstars who have had chance after chance of making an impact on a major finals and failed miserably Gazza took his opportunity with relish and provided the whole nation with a new zest for the game. I will never forget the moment he left Ronald Koeman on his backside, or when he chipped that free kick in for David Platt to bury the Belgians or when he slipped Gary Lineker through for the match winning penalty against Cameroon. I will never forget the semi final against West Germany either. Not so much the tears. I was at that game and wasn't really aware of just how badly he was taking that frigging booking and it was hard to tell because he basically got on with that game and played well right up to the end of extra time. What I remember most was the crowd, knowing he must be pissed off at missing the final if we were to get there, chanting his name whenever he came up our end. "Come On Gazza! Come On Gazza!" We knew he must be feeling bad but we wanted him to carry on for our sakes. We could still get to the final and we wanted to be there. "Come On Gazza!" Every time we chanted he turned towards us and gave a clenched fist salute and carried on doing his best to get us through. In the end it wasn't quite enough and we all ended up feeling as bad as he did that night but it's something I'll never forget. He was hurting that night and he must be hurting now. His head was gone then and it might well be gone in an altogether more serious way now. All I can say is "Come On Gazza!" and this time it's not because I want him to pull something out of the bag for me. This time he still has everything to play for and if he can make another monumental effort to beat the odds we might get to see a happy and smiling Gazza again. Let's hope so because a happy and smiling Gazza is someone is capable of making other people happy and smiling also. Oh, and by the way, there was also the priceless memory of seeing Colin Hendry sat down on his big Scottish arse and having to watch one of the greatest goals ever scored bulging the back of the Scotland net in Euro 96. "Come On Gazza!" Before I forget I must also comment on a remarkably inept job of summarising the Bristol Rovers v. Southampton cup tie last weekend by Mark Bright who definitely did not live up to his name on the day. Obviously Bright is not going to be overly familiar with the players taking part in this game but there was no real excuse for him continually talking about the Rovers left back Joe Jacobson as though he was playing for Southampton. Bright accused him of trying to block a Craig Disley shot, which his teammates would not have been happy about, and then moaned that Chris Lines, the Rovers left winger, should be taking him on more. That would have been magnificent. Lines suddenly doubling back on himself and speeding off towards his own goal just so he can take the piss out of his own full back. What were you thinking about Brighty? Brighty saved the best till last, however. With Southampton desperately trying to retrieve the tie in injury time they won a corner and as the Saints keeper came racing upfield to join the attack Brighty blurted out "Steve Phillips is coming up for this." No he isn't, Steve Phillips is already there between the posts keeping goal for Bristol Rovers, Brighty. Just like he has been all afternoon. You would have thought his fellow commentator would have pointed these things out to him but he was probably too busy sniggering behind his hand.
Percy - Saturday, February 16 Jesus Christ, how good is it when Barnsley beat Liverpool? We all know the answer to that one unless we're Liverpool fans. And to be fair, even they must be starting to think the same. OK, they had Istanbul, but was that better than being a Barnsley fan today? The answer to that one is definitely NO! For starters Barnsley deserved to win and for seconds when those 6,000 Barnsley fans get home they're getting the best sex anyone's getting ever. The birds round Barnsley are the types who will give the best sex ever as long as you can give them a viable reason for them to do so. I think anyone producing a bonafide ticket and programme from todays game round Barnsley tonight is being served up with sex from a different planet. Yes, I do just mean Yorkshire. Anyway, unfortunately I'm not from Barnsley and haven't yet got a ticket and programme from the game (but I'm going to keep an eye out on EBay) so I just had to go out and drink beer with not too much chance of Anfield inspired sex. But as I was walking the one and a half miles home in the freezing cold with no chippies open either I did come up with this football song. I was pissed and cold but I still think it's magnificent. It's all the same tune but it's four different songs. There's a prize for anyone who can name the four teams who sing the songs involved. Here goes; Park Park Someone Told Me That's a great song and I recommend you memorise it if you're likely to have to walk a mile or more home when it's freezing cold without any chips. One last question, did Liverpool take Barnsley seriously? I'm not a professional footballer and I'm certainly not a Liverpool fringe player. But let me tell you something, if I was a Liverpool fringe player and I'd been given the nod that I was going to get a shirt against Barnsley in the 5th round of the FA Cup I'd have shown Barnsley enough respect to do enough homework to find out that Brian Howard is all left foot. To be fair, that would have been the kind of homework I liked because I didn't actually have to do it; as a football fan I actually already know that Brian Howard is all left foot. Nobody at Liverpool will ever realise just how funny it was when their player invited Sir Brian Of Howard onto his left foot to score the goal that put them out of the FA Cup in The Year Of Our Lord 2008. Unless they are old enough to remember Sir Brian Of Tinnion of course. The moral of this story? If you want your son to knock Liverpool out of the FA Cup at Anfield then call him Brian.
Percy - Monday, January 28 Now it's easy to be cynical about modern day football. It's also quite possible that this website is the most cynical commentator around when it comes to talking about modern football. I myself am so cynical about modern football that I often have to try and work out if I still actually like football at all or if I actually hate it. I've not yet been able to answer that one decisively one way or the other. One of the questions this site has been raising with a vengeance of late is whether the FA Cup still has any magic. We've been cynical, we've questioned the old girls' ability to rouse our excitement as though she's the football competitions' equivalent of Bet Lynch. You know, back in the 70's we used to love watching them both on the old black and white tv, preferably alone and with a box of kleenex on the sofa arm. Both Bet and the FA Cup could be relied upon for generating more than the safe daily dosage of excitement for the everyday 1970's male. Now they just make you feel old, depressed and faintly disgusted with yourself for ever having harboured such passions. The same can be said of Wendy Richard but when it comes to her the feeling of self loathing now is so much the greater because you used to fancy her more and now she is even more of a car crash. God forbid that I should ever get to see that Nurse Gladys Emmanuel from Open All Hours again, I shudder to think what kind of a disgrace that particular "sex symbol" looks like now. Anyway, this weekend the FA Cup, and I hope it was because we had goaded into a response, answered back. It had had enough of everyone telling it it was now crap and it rolled back the years to enthrall us all. Now I could still be cynical if I wanted, after all there were no real shocks, but this was a wholly memorable 4th round and I for one went through the weekend with a nice glow of contentment which I could only put down to the feelgood factor created by Wendy Richa, sorry, the FA Cup. Now we all know what the highlight of the weekend was but there were other good things as well which offered compelling evidence that the FA Cup still has its' magical powers. Let's start with the obvious one though. Havant & Waterlooville take a bow. I said in an earlier piece that I would only believe in the magic of the FA Cup if they went to Liverpool and won but I am now willing to take that comment back. I did also warn them about taking photos of the ground and fighting for autographs but they managed to fit all that into their afternoon and still gave the mighty Reds a rare old run for their money. Let me here and now say, without a trace of cynicism, a hale and hearty well done to all concerned with H&W. Not only did you cover yourself in glory but you restored a lot of peoples' faith not just in the FA Cup but in football generally. I don't need to go into too many details, you've all seen the highlights or clips on the news. For me one of the highlights of the day was the reaction the game caused among the people covering it on the tele, radio and in the papers. The excitement and sheer joy those people were obviously feeling just watching, and hearing about, the events unfolding was in itself something that made me feel happier myself. Goddamn it, I can only assume that's what it must have been like at Woodstock. Pass the joint and let's body paint each other Wendy. On the BBC scores extra thing, which I hate to be honest because of Ray Stubbs and Garth Crooks, we had Les Ferdinand and Lee Dixon, two guys I have a lot of time for. Ferdinand was extra special excited and couldn't really say anything coherent but you could tell from his big, happy, smiley face that he was enjoying it. What I liked most about Sir Les is that he was constantly trying to say the name of the team but he could never get any further than Havant & Waterloo. It was like the Ville had never existed. I wonder if he used to get that excited playing Monopoly when he landed on Penton Road. Marvellous. Thinking back to an earlier round nobody on that Sky Sports thing could manage to say the names properly when H&W took on Dagenham & Redbridge. Tony Gale was having a world of trouble. Even better, though, was when I watched Match of the Day. Dixon was summing up on this one too and the time delay had done nothing to dampen his spirits. In fact it seemed to have given him more time to reflect on the glory of the non leaguers efforts and I'm sure he was actually holding back, none too successfully, a tear or two as he emotionally considered their performance. I can't believe how good Lee Dixon is as a summariser. He's intelligent, coherent, insightful and genuinely seems to love this game we call football. I couldn't stand him as a player. I didn't think he was very good, he was a niggly, if not nasty, little bugger and he played for Arsenal (bad) and England (even worse for me as a supporter). You could see how genuinely happy he was for the H&W team for performing so well at Anfield. They had made his day, he had made my day, I hope someone had made Wendy Richard's. And talking of crying I really did like the pictures of the chubby little freak blubbering uncontrollably after Havant had scored their first goal, and well done to the eagle eyed cameraman for picking him out. We've all seen fans crying at the footy but it's usually when something's gone horribly wrong and they're just feeling sorry for themselves. Anyone can do that. Now crying when you've just scored is something altogether more praiseworthy and captured the truly surreal nature of the moment perfectly. Somehow it put everything into a perfect perspective. Well over 90% of football fans, particularly those that don't really go to games, support clubs because they want to see at least some level of success. They will never understand or appreciate the enormous fulfilment and emotional release that comes from seeing a really crap team achieve something unexpected or glorious. Even if it's just a perfect goal scored completely out of the blue it is a feeling you can't really describe. Havant & Waterlooville gave their fans, and there would have been some who have watched them home and away for years among the thousands of day trippers at Anfield, something that they will take to their graves on Saturday and the reaction of that young lad just seemed to put everything into perfect perspective. This game, however, did not give the best material evidence that the FA Cup still has its' old magic. That was provided by the Mansfield-Middlesbrough game with a little help the day after at Bramhall Lane. Now I really enjoyed the Mansfield game. I was rooting for them and they didn't win but this was, genuinely, a good old fashioned cup tie. I was really happy with the ref. He let a few dreadful fouls go and the two teams, basically, just got on with it. Every credit. If they come to review this game the ref will probably get banned for a few weeks but because the players kept it in the right spirit everything was fine. If we could ever get back to the days of the referees' decision being final and the refs themselves being allowed to use a bit of discretion then football would be a lot better off. There were no sendings off in this one despite the fact that Mansfield spent the first 15 minutes booting Middlesbrough all over the pitch. The ref didn't seem too concerned about nipping this in the bud so Robert Huth did something about it himself, folding one of the Mansfield forwards in half with something straight out of the Bruce Lee book of football. Not a long one that book, it just basically describes how to fold an opponent in half while sending the ball to Chesterfield. I bet young Huth pulled his face like anything when his parents gave him that one for Christmas many years ago but he's understanding its' value now. The best of all was when Dan Martin, last man and completely baffled by an electric turn from Aliadiere, simply rugby tackled his man to the ground. Even if he hadn't been the last man this was a sending off anywhere other than Twickenham and he might not have got away with it there. Commonsense prevailed, however, and the ref was content just to show yellow. What really proved the magic of the FA Cup in this one though was a piece of pure class from Championship Manager stalwart Gareth Jellyman. On a windswept pitch that was forever having something blown across it Jellyman raced down the left wing to send over a first time cross only to find the ball running into the path of a few stray balloons. Without hesitation the full back whipped over a peach of a centre and simultaneously popped the nearest balloon with his standing foot. Pure class and, as Paul Daniels would testify, magic. I was hoping they would get a woman out on a revolving wheel and Jellyman could throw knives at her whilst putting over pinpoint centres and bursting balloons at the same time. Maybe Sven might want to think about signing Jellyman for Manchester City. When his left back, Michael Ball, was faced with a similar conundrum the day after at Sheffield United he cocked up his act completely, didn't clear the ball, didn't burst any balloons and was just left with egg on his face. That act's not getting him through the heats of Opportunity Knocks or New Faces. Or The X Factor. Still, Michael Ball's always been more of a singer than a magician. What use is that in the FA Cup? Finally, I was wondering when Baldrick from Blackadder was going to make an appearance during the Wigan-Chelsea game. Now he's not Baldrick any more you only usually see him on programmes where they are digging up old burial sites or other things of historical importance. It took me a while to work out that I was watching live football and not an episode of Time Team, or whatever it's called, because all I could look at was the recently discovered Roman Road that runs the length of the JJB. Straight as a die and no corner shops. It's got to be Roman. Check it out Baldrick.
Percy - Thursday, January 24 First of all I want to say well done to our womens' football correspondent. I have just read the latest piece and once again I thought it was good stuff. As well as avoiding the common trap of patronising the womens' game with faint praises and conveniently overlooking any shortcomings there may be our correspondent is also not afraid to comment on the really important issues that face us not only when addressing womens' football but sport altogether and life in general. When I read about his frustration at never seeing Everton Ladies give Arsenal a proper game, failing to win the lottery and never yet having played a round of golf on the moon with Fara Williams I knew exactly what he meant. Surely we all did. My frustrations reach the next level, however. I have qualified for Europe in the hopeless dreaming stakes. I am still waiting to see England give Portugal a decent game (ie. paste the living crap out of them) at a major finals, I get angry every time I don't win the Euro Lottery (imagine all that money and most of it originally belonging to foreigners. it's the nearest you can really get to being Francis Drake in this day and age) and my ideal round of golf would be with Jelena Dokic and I think I'd choose the planet Venus, it sounds more romantic. Perhaps such musings might provoke another entry from our temperamental pal Norbert Wartle. Mr. Wartle has become such an occasional visitor to these pages that I was thinking of inviting his namesake, Mr. Dentressangle, to take his place as a chatting companion. I used to work at a gaffe where Norbert Dentressangle lorries used to come in pretty frequently. They were always my favourite lorries. If I ever write a comic book football story one of the teams is going to have a Dutch centre forward called Norbert Dentressangle. I can assure you that he will be a freaking good un. I don't know if any of you are familiar with an erstwhile kiddies programme called Where On Earth Is Carmen Sandiago? The theme tune was the exact words of the title belted out in earnest tones just to emphasise that this was the question which needed answering most urgently by the great minds of the universe. Whenever I see a Norbert Dentressangle truck I can't help singing the Carmen Sandiago song but substituting Norbert Dentressangle into the lyrics. By the way, if I ever do a comic book story about womens' football then one of the teams is going to have a centre forward called Carmen Sandiago, she'll be either Brazilian or Chilean or perhaps both, and she will be freaking magnificent. Anyway, perhaps our Norbert could tell us which lottery he would most like to win and who he would most like to play golf with and on which planet. I would imagine the lottery he would most like to win would be the football sweep at the Seven Stars but, as a bit of a star golfer, he might set his sights a bit higher on that teaser. Anyhoo, I mentioned the prospect of a Moyes headbutt in my title and I wasn't just teasing you. We've all seen Adebayor graze his mates nose the other night with the Togoan version of the Glasgow Kiss and, as I watched Moysie getting increasingly tense the following night as Everton struggled against Chelsea, I began to wonder just what it would be like to take one from one of Scotland's finest. Now I think we've all thought that Moysie is going to be a bit of hard work if he ever loses it and starts really going to work on someone but I'm beginning to have my doubts. When I was watching him get interviewed afterwards I was beginning to wonder if he's actually human. It doesn't look like he's got real skin at all. He looks as though he's been made out of plastercine. Like a bigger version of Morph (Tony Hart's old pal), only skin coloured and not blue just to confuse us into thinking he is actually real. I'm most dubious about Moysies' wrinkles. That's a very human touch but wrinkles normally move. Sometimes they deepen with a furrowing of the brow, sometimes they disappear altogether. Moysies' don't. They just stay in the same place all the time like they've been chiselled on with a really fine chisel. The only explanation for them that still leaves him basically human is if he's had a facelift that went a little bit too far in the lifting, stretching procedure. Anyway, the point is Moysie might look hard with his manic staring eyes (which could also just be the effects of a botched facelift or they might just be buttons) but it wouldn't hurt you if Morph headbutted you so he might not be quite as hard as we think. I reckon if I ever have Moysie a fight I'm going to end up plastering him everywhere. Literally. I'm going to scoop up big chunks of his face and putty my windows with him. I'll never have a draught in the house again. Food for thought, eh?
Norbert Monday, January 21 I know what Perce is going to say, "Who's been rattling your cage Norbert to get you on here", so I'll tell you. It was Brian freaking Woolnough and his journo chums on that god awful Sunday Supplement programme they have on Sky. Now, I don't usually watch that programme, as on the past occasions I have watched it, it had been basically drivel, and the incumbent at the time was Jimmy Hill. Unfortunately for me, I was really bored with Spongebob Squarepants on Sunday morning after about 7 episodes on the bounce, and decided to flick through the channels, only to find Woolnough's jowly features staring back. Anyway, main topic for debate for the fencesitters (I mean panel) was; What is Kevin Keegan likely to achieve on his return to Newcastele? After about half an hour, they sort of agreed to a man that King Kev is doomed to failure because he's still going to have the same attitudes he left the game with in the late 90's, and he's not going to cut it with the modern ways of the game and new coaching methods. I have heard some bilge in my time, but Jeez Louise. And, these blokes get paid to say this garbage on telly. Just remind me chaps, who have Newcastle just sacked? Oh yes, Big Sam knows his stuff, he's got them eating proper, he's got psychologists in, massage therapists and motivation coaches. He's brought in new tactics and training techniques, he's the way forward. Big Fat, I'm the only man in the world that would buy J.J Okocha because he can throw it a long way, Sam. I'm sort of neither here nor there with Newcastle. It has to be said that I did quite like them while Kev was there last. They were good to watch. There has to be a place in the game for people like Keegan, and the more of them, the better. The man clearly loves football, and is a refreshingly honest speaker. He will turn out a side that entertains, and whether or not he actually wins anything, he will surely set Newcastle on a better footing than they currently are, post Sam. Disappointingly for the Sunday Supplement team, Keegan will not be getting 10 men behind the ball at all times and aiming to stop the other team scoring. He will not have his team running fast and punting balls up the middle. He will get his team playing something resembling football and aiming to score goals. Come on Kev, good luck to you. By the way, I was advocating sacking Sven when England had qualified for the Quarter finals of the last World Cup, so that Keegan could take charge for the knockout stages. Finally, as if to add injury, the Sunday Supplement team went one better at the end by discussing "Who should Capello have as his England Captain?" One of the journo's (the baldy) actually suggested Owen Hargreaves. I rest my case. Norbert & Piranhafish for Sky T.V.
Percy - Thursday, January 17 Hindsight's a magnificent thing, only it's not really, it's actually crap. Hindsight would be magnificent if you could make use of it beforehand but then it wouldn't be hindsight. It would be foresight, or telepathy, or something else. It would obviously be a lot better than it is at present, however, and would come in handy with my lottery efforts and my correct scores at Ladbrokes. Anyway, the point is I am now commenting with the benefit of hindsight but I reckon hindsight wasn't really needed in this instance. See what you think. What I want to talk about is the BBC's choice for their live game this week in the FA Cup replays. They chose Manchester City and West Ham. They chose this game despite the fact that the first game between the two sides was a borefest goalless draw and the fact that Manchester City, under Svengali, are possibly the most boring team ever invented. Sure, they're doing ok in the league and Svensterious has to be complimented for making his side tough to beat and improving their league position. All well and good. Surely nobody actually wants to watch them though. Especially not the poor old neutral. Sven is undoubtedly one of the most cautious men to have ever lived. Unless it comes to getting into ladies knickers and then he's the most daring bloke alive since Evel Knievel. And he's more daring than Evel when it comes to getting into ladies knickers. Evel would have had Man City playing more expansively, however, and might even have turned them into a team you wouldn't object to watching live on the visionbox every now and then. Anyway, there are the BBC having to decide, in between telling everyone about the magic of the FA Cup, which game to show from the available replays. What do they do? Do they get a few bloodhounds; shove their snouts in a trough full of undergarments collected from the washing lines of David Copperfield, David Blaine, Harry Houdini, Paul Daniels and Tommy Cooper and then let them loose to see where the magic might be located? No, they look at which are the two "biggest" teams left in and decide to show them. The logic is simple, if they are the "biggest" teams left in then the viewing figures will be at their highest. The fact that City are as dull as dishwater and West Ham are just dishwater doesn't come into the equation. The fact that both teams might still be trying to work out if they actually want to be in the competition at all doesn't come into the equation either. "Man City and West Ham, I've heard of both of them, they seem to be playing each other, get the cameras to Maine Road" says whoever it is at the BBfreakingC who decides which game gets shown. And unfortunately for us the outside broadcast unit sent to cover the drossfest gets to Manchester early enough to find out that City don't actually play at Maine Road anymore, survives the excursion into Moss Side and manages to mosey on across town to the City of Manchester Theatre Of Tedium in time to bring the full gory ninety minutes into our living rooms. Ninety minutes and no rabbits pulled out of hats, no ladies sawn in half, no disappearing midgets. Not even so much as a card trick. Then there was the game they could have chosen, Havant & Waterlooville against Swansea Freaking City. You have the last non league team left in the competition against a minnow turned giant in Swansea City, so often the underdogs now the team to be shot at. Boot on the other foot and not feeling so comfortable I fancy. You have the incentive of a trip to Liverpool in the next round to make sure that every one involved in this game will be literally foaming at the mouth in their efforts to secure victory. You have the knowledge that the first game was reasonably exciting and ended up in a mass brawl and you know it's going to be played at Havant & Waterlooville and even though you've never seen their ground you know it's going to be a complete wreck and the pitch is going to be muddy as hell. Jesus Christ, you don't need the bloodhounds to tell you that there's a sniff of magic floating around the night skies of Hampshire as the game approaches. Sure enough, City versus West Ham is the greatest advert for cricket since Walter Hammond went out at teatime and smacked his own teams' cocky young spinner all over Gloucester with a stump while the H&W, Swansea game is almost as good as watching Wally Hammond smack his own teams' cocky young spinner all over Gloucester with a stump. Having had to endure the ninety minutes of sheer grotesque from Manchester the boys in the BBC studio quickly introduce short highlights from H&W's momentous 4-2 spanking of the Swans just to give us a little taste of the glorious excitement we could have been lapping up. When the clips are finished and we return to the sofa (and why aren't Hansen, Shearer and Dixon all curled up asleep on it by this stage?) one of the pundits (Shearer I think) pipes up with "That's the magic of the FA Cup" Rub it in Alan, it's not like I'm suicidal enough after watching that other crap. The BBC, eh? They want the FA Cup to be magic but they won't go to Havant or Waterlooville to prove the point. Anyway, in conclusion, I refuse to believe the FA Cup is still magic. The BBC won't show H&W beat Swansea so it doesn't actually count and I'm worried the H&W boys will not take their trip to Anfield seriously. If I catch any of them taking photos during the game or running after Liverpool players thrusting autograph books towards them then I won't be happy. If Havant & Waterlooville really want to convince me that the FA Cup is magic then they need to go to Anfield and win. Preferably 6-1. Oh, and by the way, the live game this Sunday afternoon is Man City versus West Ham. It's enough to drive you to the pub. The one that doesn't have Sky of course. Finally, I read that Joey Barton's psychologist, or whatever the name for it is, is Peter Kay. Amazing.
Percy - Tuesday, January 15 Are you desperate? Are you stupid? Oh good, then welcome to the January Transfer Window. How funny is it watching clubs that have stayed clear of real trouble looking to offload their own failures on teams stuck at the bottom for stupidly inflated fees? Well, it's funny unless you support one of the clubs at the bottom looking to pay the inflated fees. I have noted with interest the patriotism of Alex McLeish as he attempts to buy Scottish for Birmingham City, so far without success. McLeish obviously isn't concerned about the cautionary tale that was Lawrie Sanchez trying to resurrect the Northern Ireland team at Fulham and getting the boot a couple of months later. I know Scotland have had a few decent results recently but I'm not sure it is the best country to raid if you are looking to secure Premier League survival. After all, Derby County have their fair share of Scots in situ and they are not faring all that well. One manager who seems to have turned his back on his own nation is Blackburn's Mark "Sparky" Hughes who actually managed to offload the comedy "hard man" Robbie Savage to the aforementioned Derby the other week. Nice to see Paul Jewell planning for next season already. What I'm really waiting to see, however, is which one of the teams at the bottom of the Premier League is going to take Nigel Quashie off West Ham's hands. Surely one of them has got a couple of million quid burning a hole in their pockets that they want to get rid of in exchange for guaranteed relegation.
Percy - Thursday, December 27 I take it Steve Bruce hasn't been able to rustle himself up an assistant yet at Wigan. I also take it that none of his players can speak English. Maybe they can't speak at all. I also take it that the handful of fans who go to the JJB had gone home before the post match interviews yesterday and that Dave Whelan was being held hostage by the KGB. And I know, unfortunately, that George Formby is dead and therefore unavailable for comment. I have to believe in these things as fact because surely Brucie wouldn't have stepped forward to do an interview himself for Match of the Day if there had been anybody else around who could possibly have said a few words when he was looking that Goddamn ugly. Now I know we're not talking about an oil painting at the best of times but yesterday Steve looked positively hideous. I hope no children had been allowed to stay up late to watch just because it's Christmas. They wouldn't have slept well last night if they were. Steve's right eye, the portion of it that was still open, was completely bloodshot. He was trying to do the interview in profile to disguise the fact but unfortunately we could all still see it. His left eye was merely puffy and unpleasant. And his head in general seemed to be contracting, as though being pressed together in an invisible clamp. Has he got a bad cold or had Big Fat Sam just got hold of him in the tunnel and gone beserk when he said he was going to speak to the BBC. If he's got a cold and it's that bad he doesn't want to be getting too close to his players. If a normal human being catches something that bad they're likely to be in a coma for weeks. Then Wigan might have to do an Arsenal Ladies and stop turning up for their matches. One good thing I suppose is that Bruce did see, out of half an eye, his team gain a vital three points and it might be the biggest incentive his players could have. After all, you wouldn't want to upset a man who looked like that would you? He'd probably end up exploding like Mr Creosote in a volcano of pus and mucus. Imagine that (but not while you're eating). Anyway, Happy Christmas, a Happy New Year and all that and be good otherwise Steve "the Bogey Man" Bruce will be visiting you. Or should that be Steve "the Elephant Man" Bruce?
Percy - Wednesday, December 19 I've not been on for a while as you may have noticed. I'm supposed to comment on the funnier things in football and there hasn't been much to go at recently. The bung situation festers on with police raids and the like, virtually every game in the Premier League over the past month has seen a fracas or a two footed challenge or both, we've had stabbings and missiles being thrown at players during recent European games and the latest entry into the cesspit that is modern football is a rape allegation against Manchester United's Johnny Evans. Maybe there have been some more praiseworthy things happening or the odd humourous interlude but I was probably too busy throwing up to notice them. One thing that was worthy of comment was Fabio Capello's first press conference as England manager at the start of this week. Time alone will tell if Capello is a good choice as England manager but if he is as superior to Steve McClaren in the actual job of managing England as he showed himself to be in handling a press conference then things will certainly be looking up. Being honest, could anybody really feel any respect, warmth or inspiration from listening to McClaren's insipid, guarded and basically meaningless responses to each and every question ever put to him? Could anyone really feel any confidence about a man whose occasional attempts at bravado were completely undermined by his own shrinking body language, helplessly staring eyes, hopelessy insincere smiles and general lack of charisma. Capello spoke through an interpretor but even when you were listening to him speak in Italian you could sense the self confidence of a man whose has genuine belief in himself and his abilities. It was also impossible not to feel his presence. When his comments were relayed they were simple, commonsense answers which nevertheless contained enough pointed meaning to give food for thought to everyone within touching distance of the England set up. If nothing else it was almost liberating to hear an England manager actually give a proper answer to a simple question. It's no wonder Capello is so keen to get his own men in to assist him as England manager either. He can have little trust or confidence in anybody English at present. Not only was McClaren a joke but the coaches associated with England in recent times scarcely come across as inspirational characters or even competent tacticians. Then there's Brian Barwick, the man who apparently chose Capello. While the Italian cut a confident, imposing figure at the press conference the man he sat next to wittered on in painfully contrived jargon and persistently chipped in with meaningless asides which sounded embarrassing next to the straightforward, logical responses given by Capello himself. Barwick seemed to fear the mythical traps that McClaren always seemed to think were being laid for him by our dastardly journalists. Capello seemed to think they were just questions which he, as a man of intelligence knowing his own mind and ideas, was quite capable of answering. I think our new manager will have already made a pretty big impression on the men most likely to play for him and I think there will be no little apprehension among their ranks. Instead of being guaranteed a place in the England squad it looks as though people will now have to earn it by turning out performances for club and country. So much the better. In short, rather than just keep telling everyone how much it means to them to play for their country they are going to have to prove it by what they do on the pitch.
Percy - Wednesday, November 28 Hopefully I won't have to mention Steve McClaren again but I have to just bring up the stomach churning news conference announcing his sacking and the one he gave himself "celebrating" his dismissal. Firstly the FA. It doesn't pay to pay too much attention to that row of stuffed shirts, even though they do run English football, but how nauseating was it when Brian Barwick jumped in and started giving his speech about letting us all down and only being in the job because he's a football fan? Pass the spew bucket. I think he thought he was giving an "unto the breach dear friends" sort of rallying call. He was simply turning my stomach and the whole thing just left me less confident than ever about the competence of the people running our national game. Then there was McClaren. Less sign of any remorse, genuine or otherwise, from him. Of course he might actually still believe he did a good job. After all, he responded to all criticism during his tenure with a "they're out to get me" attitude rather than consider that he might just be doing things wrong. What got me about McClaren's interview was that he was at pains to point out how well everyone around him had done during his time in charge. The FA, his backroom staff, the players. According to McClaren they had all been brilliant. If they had all been brilliant then how bad were you Steve? Of course this obvious deduction seemed to completely pass McClaren by and there was never any possibility of him leaving with any dignity by actually resigning. Instead he stayed till he was pushed and collected a £2.5 million pay off for being completely incompetent. Still, why not leave with money rather than dignity?
Percy - Thursday, November 22 At least one good thing's come out of England's dismal defeat last night, it got Norbert out of his coma kicking and screaming. I've given it until today and allowed myself to calm down a bit. The worst thing about doing that is it's allowed Norbs to make the point I wanted to make. That being the case I'll make it again anyway. I was watching Sky Sports News before the game and they were putting up the odds for some bets you could have regarding the game and its' potential aftermath. One of the bets they put up was for McClaren to resign by the end of the night. "Absolutely no way" I thought regarding that bet. As if McClaren's going to resign and miss out on the dirty great big compensation package he'll get for being completely incompetent. After all, the FA carried on paying Sven thousands of pounds a day after he'd stopped doing the job so why shouldn't they do the same for me, Steve probably thought. How much money have the players collected for their miserable efforts in qualifying? I know they made the handsome gesture of handing over their match fees to charity but that amounts to a pittance of what comes their way for pulling on the England shirt. Maybe Steve and his men should re-direct some of their earnings towards the England womens team. They have been pointing out the fact that they actually lost money while representing England with credit during the recent World Cup with the FA paying them each £40 a day for the privilege. Brilliant. And what about Wembley? What a disgrace. Now I don't mind a bit of mud, just as last night it helps contribute to an exciting, generally error strewn game and should still have it's place in English football. It would do nobody in the Championship any harm to play on such a surface every so often, League One games would probably be better for it and in League Two such pitches should be obligatory. Where we should not get such a pitch is wherever England play. Of course the FA now have to prostitute themselves in whatever way they can to try and recoup the ridiculous outlay made to bring us this stadium (which is no great shakes really) but playing American Football on it is little short of disgusting. Not only did it cock the pitch up completely but what the hell is the governing body of English football doing promoting another sport from another country? Just think if American Football did really take off in England and youngsters around the country decided they would rather play that than our game. That would be great and the Yanks would have our own FA to thank for the expansion of their shitty game. Of course there would probably be more money in it for the FA so they would be happy enough. Anyway, I need to calm down again so I'll take you back to what I did last night after the game had finished. Desperate to relieve the stress and restore my faith in England I did the only thing possible, I watched a George Formby film. If only George was still around to take over from the bumbling idiot McClaren. As it is it didn't turn out nice again, did it? Norbert - Wednesday, November 21 Jesus, pretty well on the money there Percy, apart from the last bit where you recommended we actually go out and play well. We were shit, we've been shit almost throughout qualifying and we didn't deserve to go through. That is what I'm sure most of us are thinking. I just get the feeling that after McClaren came on telly to say how "We know how disappointed everyone is", and "We're feeling it just as much as the fans", and "You should see the lads in there", that somehow he thinks that he can exonerate himself from being an incompetent twat. If you knew how disappointed I felt Steve, you wouldn't even have bothered to come on the telly and give us another marvelous insight into your ineptitude. You're not going to step down? How much does that have to do with accepting your responsibility, standing up like a man, and doing the right thing or waiting to be booted out so that you can take your hefty payout. Just fuck off Steve. I never wanted you, and I want you to leave right now, with as much humiliation and disgrace as the good people of England can muster towards you. I'm not even going to get started on the F.A. Now on to the players. This embarrassing exit has not come about by just one defeat, it has been a campaign of under par performances, by a squad that continue to be touted as world class players. It is a long, long time since we have seen a genuine world class performance from our boys. Wayne Rooney has showed the odd moment, a bit further back Beckham had 1 or 2. Step up to the plate Stevie G. Not a chance. Two of the best midfielders in the World? You're crap and we know you are. Percy - Wednesday, November 21 I was reading the article on our site about Steve McClaren ahead of tonights' game against Croatia and, if todays' papers are correct, I am now wondering whether our noble manager has been doing the same. If the team being napped in the papers this morning is the one that actually starts tonight then it is basically the exact team suggesteed in that article. Carson in the nets, Gareth Barry alongside Lampard and Gerrard in midfield and Joey Cole in an advanced role with SWP to support the Lankmeister Crouch. In fairness the article preferred Ashley Young to SWP but it was left as a judgement call so Mr McClaren was obviously at liberty to use his own judgement on that one. I hope McClaren doesn't just turn round and blame us if everything does go horribly wrong tonight, although they reckon all publicity is good publicity. If I'd known Steve was such an avid reader of ours, and took so much notice of what we say, I would have been on earlier suggesting we call Gabby Agbonlahor into the squad. Why not have someone who can actually get into their club side as one of the forwards? Not only that but he looks the business to me. Defoe and Bent can hardly be bristling with confidence at the moment and the inclusion of Alan Smith is simply depressing. Obviously, in thinking about tonights' game, I must say "Well done chaps" to the Israel team for beating Russia at the weekend and making all this possible. (I hope when England end up winning this tournament and Steve McClaren gets knighted he remembers to say the same.) I won't, however, start thanking the Israeli's for winning and all that kind of crap that's been filling the papers for weeks now, or telling them that they are now national heroes, in England. Jesus, we really make ourselves look like arseholes in things like this. We kick up a big stink before hand suggesting all kinds of skullduggery and malpractice, all of which is deeply insulting to the parties concerned, and then make a gigantic fuss of them when they get the result we wanted, as if they've done it just for us. This again is deeply insulting to the parties' concerned. Now we have people hoping that Croatia will be happy just to turn up because they have already qualified. Deeply insulting. No, on this occasion our fate is in our own hands and it is up to us to do the business. Croatia won't let us win or draw, we will have to do enough ourselves to earn such a result. With the game being at home if we play anything like we should get a draw, if we play well we will get at least a draw. That being the case my advice would be to go out and play well.
Percy - Saturday, November 10 Big Fat Sam, you've got to love him haven't you? If any of you answered yes to that question then you got it wrong. Very wrong. If we're being completely honest about it then it is too early to be specualting about the turds future at Newcastle. He hasn't had long enough in charge to be judged and, to be fair, his start has been okay really. But I don't really see why anybody should be fair to Big Fat Sam. He doesn't strike me as a bloke who has lived his life strictly by the principles of honesty, integrity or fair play. Typically the most hyper sensitive, self centred man in football took great exception to the first murmurings of discontent voiced about his management of Newcastle United. Live with it Fatty. You weren't exactly slow to put your two pennies worth in when Glen Roeder got the job were you? And you had no shame in touting yourself as the best man for the England job. Now you've got a job at a big club, well bigger than Bolton anyway, you'll just have to put up with that sort of crap yourself won't you. I've nothing against Newcastle as a place or a club and would actually like to see them establish themselves as a club capable of challenging for honours but I hope if that happens it is post Allardyce. I want Big Fat Sam to have to squirm, suffer and fail at St James Park. It's nothing personal. I just don't like the guy. I hope he doesn't get to squirm, suffer and fail for the five years he decreed this week he should be allowed in charge of the club to turn Newcastle into a force. It's brilliant, isn't it? You get this big fat slob shouting from the rooftops about how great he is and how he should be given every job going in football and then when he gets one of them he starts telling everyone not to expect anything for the next five years. Fanshaggingtastic. Did he say that in his job interview? What a cock. Give Big Fat Sam five years. I wouldn't give him five years if I was chairman of a football club but I might if I was employed in a different profession. Anyway, enough about Fatso. Now for one of his signings, Alan Freaking Smith. Back in the England squad. That's not good. Back in the England squad as a centre forward. Jesus. How bad are we? Finally for today, some time back I had a little muse about what might be the best film about football ever made. Having seen the last half an hour of Mean Machine the other night (Vinnie Jones not Burt Reynolds) I can definitely say it's not that one. What a pile of shite.
Percy - Wednesday, November 7 First things first. The Sports Minister came out the other week and made some comments about wages and ticket prices in football and of course reaction from within the game was swift and withering. Unbelievable. These people obviously think they are worth all the freaking money they get. Retards. Fair enough, you might as well take it if you can get it but don't complain if someone points out that £150,000 a week for playing football (to a decent but scarcely world class standard) is a bit over the top. Then Alex Ferguson has his say and defends ticket prices at Old Trafford and warns the Sports Minister (apparently a United fan) from ever coming to the ground again. Jesus, should all the United fans who think prices are a bit steep stay away Alex? Or should they carry on stumping up the cash because they love the club so much? Then a week later Ferguson is having a go at Arsenal about their ticket prices. Hypocrite warning. Still, who expects honesty and integrity in the world of football? On a lighter note I was watching a Watford game on the tele the other week and I was wondering whether anyone can explain Nathan Ellington's beard to me? It's a thick, bushy affair but it doesn't actually cover any of his face, it's confined purely to his neck like he's wearing a thick fur stole for winter. It's actually quite scary. Finally, Stephen Ireland. Now, having issued Alex Ferguson with a hypocrite warning earlier I have to be careful myself here. After all I am always saying that people should be able to celebrate goals any way they want and not be punished (short of killing people) so I cannot really have a go at Ireland, can I? Well, yes. Maybe Ireland should be allowed to pull his shorts down when he scores but he needs to realise that if it's not offensive it certainly is a crap celebration. Nobody wants to see a scrawny little freak showing off his superman undies, do they? Reminded me a bit of Screech off Saved By The Bell. Maybe if Ireland gave his celebrations a bit more thought he could come up with something a bit more tasteful next time. Maybe he could lift up his shirt to show a t-shirt with "Hello Gran" written on it. Just a thought.
Percy - Friday, November 2 I've got to admit, I've always loved Martina Hingis.
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