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Football Chat & Pub Banter
Our resident Football Chat columnists are: 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.
Percy - Friday, October 26 It looks as though Martin Jol has bitten the dust at Tottenham. It's a shame of course because I think we all like the big Dutch freak. How can you not like a man with a forehead the size of Lincolnshire? I wonder if the Spurs board were finally pushed into sacking him because they were worried that their first choice replacement was about to be snapped up by Bolton Wanderers. Nah, not very likely is it? Question to the Bolton Wanderers board; "Was Sammy Lee not bad enough?" Gary Freaking Megson. Unbefreakinglievable. Meggers had a habit, during his incompetent tenure at Nottingham Forest, of inviting the fans into the dressing room to make their feelings clear after particularly embarrassing displays. I know a few Trotters, Gary, and I wouldn't advise you do the same thing if you do take over at the Reebok. They would most likely staple you to the dressing room wall and then take the players out for a couple of beers. I don't know if Bolton want to keep hold of the couple of class players they've got but appointing Megson would appear to be a sure fire way of completely pissing them off. Why don't they give Mourinho a ring instead? Still no word from Norbert but I can assure you he was texting me with remarkable regularity last Saturday before, during and after the Merseyside derby. I would love to share his thoughts with you but the laws of decency prevent me from doing so. I got the general impression that he wasn't happy and he thought the referee was not having a particularly good game though. I can't understand why. Percy - Friday, October 19 Jesus Christ. What are you lot going to do next summer? Unless Israel get something off Russia in their next qualifier it's a question we're all going to have to face shortly. And even if Israel do get something off them we're still going to have to beat Croatia and I personally won't be staking my mortgage on that one. Major football tournaments without England are the most excrutiatingly annoying things ever invented. Imagine what it was like in the 1970's when we missed out on the World Cups of 1974 and 78 and got nowhere near the business end of the European Championships. At least in those days we had a bit of an excuse. Kevin Beattie and Gerry Francis were never fit and we used to play in groups where only one team went through. In 74 we were knocked out by Kazimerz Deyna and his petrol drinking Polish mates and in 78 we came a cropper against the Italy of Causio, Benetti and Bettega. And obviously Zoff. No real disgrace there. But thanks to Mr McClaren and his malfunctioning superstars we are faced again with this disastrous prospect. I might even be forced into making a comeback at cricket. How goddamn awful would that be? Both for me and the toiling bowlers I would ritually abuse every week with my shaft of willow. Wednesday's exercise in negativity was as bad as any we've suffered in the past few years. When will we get a manager who doesn't think it's great when his centre forward is back "helping" the defence rather than trying to upset the other teams'? I seem to remember Emily Heskey doing something disastrous when we managed to let France come from behind to beat us in the last European Championship finals and this week it was Wayne Rooney's turn. What the frigging hell was he doing at left back? Why wasn't McClaren demanding he stay further up the pitch and try to relieve some of the building pressure. After all Rooney had been scaring the Russians stiff all night and then he ends up being the one handing them a way back into the game. Let the defenders defend, let the midfielders midfield and let the forwards attack. It would have been justified to call the formation at some stages the other night an 8-1-1. In fact Rooney got so isolated from Michael Owen in the second half that you could have called it an 8-1-0-1. Rooney was holding and there was actually nobody in the midfield at all. Anyway, I don't know if Norbert will be gracing these pages this weekend but it might make interesting reading if he does as it's the first Merseyside derby of the season. As a man of the people I will leave it to you to work out which side he will be cheering on.
Percy - Saturday, October 6 I mean nobody should be surprised. It would appear that the only reason Blackburn Rovers ever qualify for Europe is so they can make themselves and English football look stupid. In their remarkable European history they've embarrassed us all against the likes of Trelleborgs, Rosenborg, Bjornborg, Genclerbirligi and even frigging Celtic. That's not to mention the welterweight contest between Batty and Le Socks that they treated us to in Moscow that time. Surely their latest defeat is the worst of the lot, however. It would appear to me as though they have been knocked out this time by one of the women from my office. She wasn't in yesterday either which suggests she might have been celebrating a bit too much after sending them packing. Which was a pity because I really wanted to shake her by the hand. It might even have been worse than that though. The Larissa from my office can only be in her mid 20's whereas the Larissa that knocked Blackburn out was calling herself Larissa 1964. Now go on any self respecting sex site and you'll know that Larissa 1964 has got to be a 43-44 year old woman who can best be described as plump and is hoping to meet straight males, straight females, couples, bisexuals, whole families or just a plain, good old fashioned lesbian. Let's hope they never have to play Lyn Oslo.
Piranhafish - Friday, October 5 Today I shall be writing under my surname Piranhafish. It's true that my first name is Percy although I once went under the pseudonym Zebra Piranhafish when managing Burnley FC on an old version of Championship Manager and I certainly put Steve Cotterill to shame. The night when we won 3-2 at Ewood Park with Gareth Jellyman rising above the Blackburn keeper to head home the winner still remains fresh in the memory. Gavin Holligan was a star in that team as well if I remember rightly. Anyway, I've been quiet of late because once again I'm having to come to terms with England getting knocked out of the World Cup. Once again I had to sit through an excrutiatingly negative performance on the way to that defeat. Why are we so easily satisfied with reaching a certain stage? Or why are we so petrified of having a go when it comes to the crunch? We always end up losing anyway. Why not, just once, go out actually trying to win? Then we might not go out at all. The one thing I would say to Hope Powell is that at the end of that game lots of her team were crying. They were all gutted. They realised when the final whistle blew just what had passed them by. I would imagine, deep down, they were also gutted at the way they had approached the game. Surely that is the most galling thing of all. Defeat doesn't taste so bad if you end up feeling that you gave it your best shot, that nothing was left in the tank and you had at least given yourself a chance of winning. Defeat to the Americans, after that performance, must have felt awfully hollow. Right, now to something that did make me smile momentarily. I can never understand why footballers are always so keen to take the credit when someone on the other side scores an own goal. Alright, if it's just a slight deflection and the original shot might have gone in anyway then let the forward have it but when the keeper's going full length one way and one of his defenders sticks a leg out and buries it in the other corner then surely the defender should get the credit. I know that Premier League strikers are probably on a 50 grand bonus for scoring so they want to claim everything they possibly can, got to put food on the table somehow, but I always think it makes them look pretty pathetic. I mean if you want to get the credit for a goal just go out and actually score one properly. Anyway I bring all this up because of the League Cup tie Chelsea played at Hull the other week. For one of Chelsea's goals they ripped the Tigers apart down the left hand side and some mush put over a centre that looked meat and drink for Soloman Kalou about two yards out at the back post. Just as he was rising to apply the finishing touch, however, some Hull City defender came bulldozing in and did the job for him. As all his mates came rushing over to congratulate Kalou on his 50 grand bonus he just turned round with a cheeky grin and pointed towards the defender as if to say, "I didn't score, it was that knobhead there." Good lad, Soloman Grundy. I think if you want to really get the psychological edge over your opponents it is always better to point out how shit they are rather than trying to make them think that you're actually really good. Thinking about it it's not just the goal bonusses they are thinking of when they try and get the credit for these goals. When Peter Crouch first went to Liverpool and couldn't buy a goal he suddenly got the credit for about six genuine own goals in quick succession. When it comes time for contract negotiations or possible England selection those goals against his name probably make a pretty big difference. Even though he didn't actually score any of them. Finally a mention to my second least favourite manager, Billy "the midget" Davies. Billy was interviewed on Football Focus the other week and came on telling us how hard his players work and all that other bollocks but the thing I found most interesting was when the editor cut from Billy's face to a shot of him taking a training session. Billy was walking around his assembled squad giving some instructions, possibly passing out some bibs for a 5-a-side, and all the players were kneeling down. Jesus Christ, Billy was actually an inch or so taller than some of the smaller ones. Does Billy insist on his players kneeling down in his presence or is that simply the way he makes them play when he's joining in the 5-a-sides? I can imagine "the midget" being a bit like Brian Glover was in Kes, retaking his penalties in training until he scores and then observing that "that's the way to take a penalty". And does he trot out saying "I'm the midget off Fantasy Island today. My Gary Coleman shirt's in the wash." I wonder if he's ever had to tell Stephen Bywater to get down from the crossbar. As Paper Lace said "Billy, don't be a midget".......Oops, too late. But well done for putting one over Fat Sam, Billy. If you win the return at St. James' but don't beat anybody else all season I'll be happy. Percy - Friday, September 21 Obviously I've been keeping up to date with the Womens World Cup and am getting all excited about tomorrows quarter final against the U S of A. As well as watching on the tele I've been keeping myself abreast of all things Womens World Cup by checking out the posts from our womens football correspondent. It's all good stuff. I was told to look out for Ghana's Florence Okoe and she didn't let me down, slamming home a penalty to bring the score back to 7-2 against Norway. Great stuff. Obviously my main interest lies with England and so far our girls have been doing us proud. Please, please, please, PLEASE let them give it a go tomorrow against the Americans. I don't mind them getting knocked out as long as they give themselves a chance of winning. Don't sit back forever waiting for them to score. We've got the best player in the world, get the ball to her, get her some support and let's give it a go. In fact, let's kick some American butt. Or ass, whichever you prefer. Or even some fanny because, as Keith out of The Office will tell you, fanny means your bum out there. Let's try and attack when we get the chance, unlike the men in these situations. After all, our defence looks like it can look after itself on the evidence so far. I was reading with interest the bit about Hope Powell having words with Kelly Smith for her goal celebrations against Japan. I too have to take umbrage with the England manager for this attitude. What's the point of scoring a goal if you're not going to celebrate it? If you score for England it should be mandatory. Despite being one of the finest natural footballing talents this country has ever produced my career never really progressed beyond local park leagues. Throughout my career I always made sure I celebrated my goals. Sometimes I would copy a particularly good one a professional might have introduced, I had a spell where I borrowed Lee Sharpe's Three Amigos effort, and sometimes I made my own up. I'm not sure I would have ever copied Kelly's boot kissing routine, however. For one thing it would have taken me about half an hour to untie and re-lace the damn things, especially in the middle of winter when my hands were freezing. For another I never, ever cleaned the freaking things so I would have been snogging all kinds of unpleasant fungal growths (something I have always tried my best to avoid doing). And it would have been a really dodgy celebration during my time with the Heapey Lions when we had to shovel the cow dung off the pitch before every home game. We also have a page for each of the England squad members and I was looking with interest to see which players have been getting the most traffic. Not surprisingly Kelly Smith is way out in front but the players following in her wake are a little bit surprising. Lanky midfielder Jill Scott is the next most popular followed by the goalkeeper Rachel Brown. Rachel Unitt, despite not having kicked a ball in anger, comes in a respectable 4th place, while Football England Favourite Fara Williams is 5th. So after Arsenal's Smith the next four are all Evertonians. What does that tell you about the price of fish? Maybe they are the peoples' club after all. Anyway, for what it's worth Percy Piranhafish sends the England team the very best of luck for tomorrows game. And don't forget, Kelly. Kiss them boots. Norbert - Football Chat - Thurs, Sept 20 It has to be said that Percy is right on the money there with his last post. That sort of leads me awkwardly into another observation that I explained to Percy about 12 months ago. We were talking about football in the pub, and Perce asked me what I thought of a certain ex English player. Fat, lazy, bananas. I reckon you knowledgeable folk will know who I was talking about. So enter your answers. Also right on the money tonight was Andy Johnson, with his first (of three) penalties. Unfortunately he had to take it again. I bet Moysie wasn't too happy when he stepped up to take the third one. Spell on the bench for you laddie. Percy - Wednesday, September 19 OK Norbert, answer me this. Has anyone ever been sent off for a more ridiculous, stupid, pointless offence than the one committed by Jermaine Pennant against Porto the other night? I don't think they have. And I played in a game once when a teammate of mine got sent off for spelling his name in lower case. Percy - Wednesday, September 12 I watched England Ladies playing Japan in their first World Cup group game yesterday and I've never been as frustrated in my life. Well, not since the men were last playing a major championship anyway. I should say here, in the womens' defence, that it was frustration of a different kind. Whereas you get all wound up wondering why our "brilliant" mens team aren't daring to come over the halfway line yesterday was a case of suffering as chance after glorious chance went begging as England battered a team sitting above them in the FIFA world ranking. Then, after the magnificent Kelly Smith had suddenly scored twice to put us in front, I had to suffer as Japan equalised with the last kick of the freaking game. Japan's second goal of the game scored from a free kick awarded for a bit of bodily contact. They hardly had a chance in open play. Football is meant to be a contact sport. Shielding the ball, holding players off. That is something a forward is expected to do and defenders should have the right to challenge for the ball. Obviously they might foul their opponent doing so but both Katie Chapman and Mary Phillip were harshly treated yesterday and it cost England dear. I hope they've learnt that if a couple of opponents come and stand in your wall it is not because they are helping you block the shot and you probably need someone standing behind them in case they duck. Obvious pub chatty things to be noticed about the Japanese team were the Hair Bear they had at centre forward who I assume was playing with the aid of an invisible motorbike and that one of their defenders was called Kinga. Obviously, being Japanese now, she wasn't as big as when she was on Big Brother but I would imagine it was the same person. Those freaks will do anything to get on the telly. One thing I can't really stand about major sporting events are the opening ceremonies. Does anybody actually enjoy these things? I saw a bit of this one and there were lots of lights and fireworks going off. It looked like half the budget had been given to Jean Michel Jarre and the other half to Guy Fawkes. Personally whenever I come across one of these "spectaculars" I feel like the guy in Grease who, when asked to recognise the efforts of Patty Simcox and Eugene Felnic in decorating the gym for the dance contest, shouts out "Let's hear it for the toilet paper". It's the mens turn tonight and hopefully they won't start annoying/frustrating us as well. Played ok on Saturday but are they just setting us all up for a giant fall against the Ruskies. They'd better not be. We're looking forward to them doing that to us next summer rather than now. Playing like morons in major championships is something we've come to expect. It's like a national tradition. But not qualifying at all. That really is the pits.
Percy - Thursday, September 6 Personally I was really happy to hear that dear old Emily Heskey had been recalled to the England squad. It's not that I think the Wigan "striker" will unleash a barrage of goals that will send us hurtling into the Euro 2008 finals and beyond, it's just that I knew it was the kind of news to get my old pal Norbert out of bed and into the pub chatting section of the site again (now a No Smoking area obviously). Sure enough, Emily did the trick. Or Steve McClaren did the trick I should say. After all, dear old Emily wouldn't have called himself back into the squad, would he? He's just beginning to enjoy himself again now that people had actually forgotten that he ever played for England and stopped reminding him of how crap he is every time he steps out of the house. Now he's being looked on as some kind of saviour he's going to cop loads when it turns out he's still a hulking mass of gentle giant who doesn't know where the net is. Still, you never know. Maybe we'll get to see the magnificent "putting" celebration Emily unleashed on the Germans during that never to be forgotten, oh so long ago, 5-1 thrashing of the Germans. By the way, it's nice to see McClaren's "brave new world", "looking to the future" policy bringing us such ripe, new talent. We've had recalls for Beckham, Campbell, Calamity and now Emily. We've had McClaren pestering Jamie Carragher to come out of retirement to the extent that Jamie's had to have his phone number changed, gone ex-directory and have a restraining order placed by the courts. What next? Matt Le Tissier? Surely when whoever it was in the FA woke up one afternoon and decided that we should get Emily Heskey back in the England squad they were thinking of the womens squad just about to get their World Cup campaign under way in China. That wouldn't have been a bad idea, either. We could have sent Emily out there and dragged Kelly Smith back here to play for the men. That might have been a way of winning these next two qualifiers. Not that Hope Powell would have ever agreed to anything so stupid. Oh, and by the way; Calamity Emily? Surely that's the title of the worlds' greatest ever sitcom ever.
Norbert - Football Chat - Sept 5th Remember that annoying anthem? I think Heskey probably got some of his truly ridiculous total of 43 caps in that particular tournament. 43 caps, 5 goals. If Norbert himself had 43 England caps (playing centre forward) he would have a greater goal tally. That has got to be true. I'd have got the odd mis-hit shot to creep under the keeper, glanced a header or two in off the post. Maybe even a penalty, if I could persuade the other team members to give me the ball. I'm not taking the European Championships really seriously, however. In the scheme of things, it doesn't really mean much, and it certainly won't prove much to the rest of the world. All that really matters when it comes to England is the World Cup. Better that we play Heskey in every game possible. Then at least McMoron will get potted and they can give the job to some other idiot. Preferably one with a personality. At least. Percy - Friday, August 24 It's good to see England's latest display got Norbert's blood boiling again. I think he's slightly missing the point though. Surely we're supposed to be crap in friendly internationals. Surely friendly internationals are just an excuse for 20 odd blokes to get away for a few days to drink loads of beer and have lots of meaningless sex. With each other if necessary. My only gripe is that our lads probably managed to get beat again without indulging in either of the above. Although the News of the World might let us know different on Sunday I suppose. More seriously though friendly internationals are more a time for taking a lighter view of our beloved game and I thought the Germans provided good enough comedy value. I liked the fact that they brought Steve Archibald on in the second half but most of all I liked the strange Europop style figure who kept jumping off the bench to issue instructions to the team. Ridiculous charcoal hair and natty scarf, he looked a bit like Gary Numan in his early days but whenever I saw him I couldn't help thinking of the great Belgian punk rocker Plastic Bertrand. Now I don't know what Plastic Bertrand actually looked like but surely he looked just like that geezer. What was he telling them? "Ca Plane Pour Moi" obviously. And "Oooh Ooooh Oooooh Ooooooooh!" And maybe a bit of "Blaah Blaaah Blaaaaah Blaaaaaaah!" Nobody knows any more words than that from his one big hit. Not even Plastic himself. I have to agree with Old Norbs about McClaren's selections for these friendlies. Have a look at some new players for Gods' sake. I thought it was ridiculous bringing Beckham all that way for starters. We know everything there is to know about Becks and with the injury problems he's been suffering I thought playing him was just asking for trouble. How bad would it have looked if he'd broken down? I know he did the dirty on the Under 21's but I would have given David Bentley a run out and I would also liked to have seen James Milner given an opportunity. The Premier League isn't overflowing with English players making their mark but these two were excellent throughout last season and have started well again this time around. And finally I have to say that having had such a good old rant as Norbert indulged in over the England game I casn't believe that he didn't even mention Alan Smith. Jesus Christ. "Ca Plane Pour Moi!" Norbert - Football Chat - Thursday, August 23 Hello boys and girls. That's sort of how it's become over the last few years hasn't it. Well, certainly in the friendlies. You watch them just on the off chance that they'll turn in a decent performance that actually makes you want to watch them even more when the next match comes along. Failed miserably on that score then. As my mind drifted off, whilst nothing exciting was happening, I found myself just thinking how shit our players really are. Or at least, how crappy they perform when in the white shirt. They really are poor. Put Paul Scholes in last night's team, and he would almost certainly have been our best player. The little ginger freak/maestro (delete as applicable) has been retired for umpteen years but is still our best player. How does that work? Pity Carragher couldn't have got the hump a few years earlier really. We were treated to a display from Mr Steve McMoron last night that had us on the edge of our seats when he introduced some exciting new blood as substitutes in the second half. The bench last night contained Phil Neville, Gareth Barry, Wright-Phillips, Downing, Dyer, Wes Brown, Defoe and a few others. Jesus Christ. You McClaren, amongst other things are an absolute coward. Give us 3-5-2 in a friendly, I dare you. (Yes I'm on that old chestnut again). But you can try stuff like that in friendlies can't you? Rio as sweeper, J.Terry & A.N. Other marking. A. Cole or Barry or Shorey or Baines or...? at Left Wing back (you only have to pick one left footer then). Beckham or Gerrard or Wright-Phillips or A.N. Other at R.Wing back. Pick from - Fat Frank, J.Cole, Gerrard, Carrick... whoever you freaking like in the 3 midfield slots, (apart from Hargreaves - but including Scholes). Up front - Rooney, Owen, Defoe, Bent (what happened to him?), Johnson... anybody but Crouch really - take your pick. How difficult is that?, it's worth a try at least. The other thing that got me thinking was how Moysie and Sven had been moaning about English players costing too much to buy. Don't be silly. Most of the boys on show don't look worth tuppence. Oh, and Moysie - you should hang your head in shame. You nearly pulled the off the difficult managerial pursuit of appearing to have your head screwed on recently. Part One: Mission accomplished. Part Two: Failed miserably: Have I missed something there Moysie? Nugent & £5.5 million or Yakubu? Choices, choices, David ...
Percy - Tuesday, August 21 I've said it before and I'm sure, unfortunately, that I'll have to say it again. Garth Crooks is a complete and utter tosspot, waste of DNA. He was at it again on Saturday. He wants a job with the FA and he won't venture an opinion about anything if he thinks it might end up being construed as controversial. Either that or he just genuinely doesn't have an opinion to offer on anything. The fact that he's employed as a pundit by the BBC makes this a distubing thought though. While his colleagues were pointing out the fact that David Healy had scored a last minute equaliser against Middlesbrough on Saturday and that the officials had made an heinous error in ignoring the fact Garth refused to condemn the decision. He was trying to suggest that the angle might be deceptive and the ball might not have gone in and that, you know, we might not actually even exist. Everything might just be one big dream and then you'll wake up and find out that the game hadn't even taken place so how could it have been a goal? At least I think that was his logic. Why don't the BBC just tell him to get the hell out of their building and never come back. After all, if we don't exist and none of it's happening why are you bothering to turn up and go "no comment" on it? He really is a disgrace to the name of whatever it is he is supposed to be. Pundit? Journalist? Arselicker? Actually he's not a disgrace to the name of Arselickers, he's one of the best there is. On the subject of dodgy refs/linesmen I think it's good that Rob Styles has been relegated for a month for his penalty shocker at Anfield on Sunday. The eagle eyed linesman who didn't flag for Healy's goal has also been demoted. Referees cock up every week. By Christmas there won't be anyone left to officiate at Premier League fixtures and we'll be faced with the magnificent "park football" spectacle of teams picking someone from between themselves to referee the game. As blokes aren't allowed to walk their dogs around the side of Premier League grounds it will end up being one of the managers. Let's fast forward to the return game between Chelsea and Liverpool. Who's going to referee that one? I reckon Rafa Benitez is more likely to play fair than Jose Mourinho but it's more likely that the Special One will talk his way into the job. My money's on Chelsea to win that game with something to spare. Remember that penalty Jose thought his team should have had against Liverpool last season for a possible foul some ten yards outside the box? That one's definitely getting given when Jose's in charge, even if it does mean he'll have to go and fanny around in the Championship for a month or so afterwards.
Norbert - Football Chat - Weds, Aug 15 I'm just responding to Percy's challenge on the predictions for the coming season: He's gone mad if he thinks his tips will be anywhere near even challenging the mighty Norbert this season, after last years honourable draw. My crystal ball says: The four lowest placed teams in the Premier League (not counting the three promoted clubs) will be Fulham, Middlesboro, Bolton and Wigan. Promoted from the Championship will be West Brom, Coventry and Blackpool while going in the opposite direction will be Burnley, Leicester and Colchester. Promoted from League One will be Notts Forest, Oldham and Huddersfield while heading down the toilette are Cheltenham, Southend, Port Vale and Bournemouth. Saying Bye-Bye in an upwardly way to League Two will be Grimsby, Rotherham, Bradford and Peterboro. Destined for a spell in the Conference are Macclesfield and Rochdale. The League Cup final between Everton and Man City will end 4-1 with Norman Vaughan's lad getting a record breaking cup final hat-trick. The FA Cup final will be contested by Man Utd and Bristol City. I think United will just prevail, but only after City are reduced to 9 men. Quality. Percy - Wednesday, August 15 First of all, how good were my predictions? You might not think so but they've obviously scared the BeJesus out of Norbert who hasn't even summoned the courage to respond. Still, for the sightings we get of Mr Wartle he might as well be Lord Lucan. I'm thinking of having the canal dredged in fact. Next a comment on the Beckham hoo-hah. Everybody must be getting a bit concerned about their investment in Becks as his troublesome ankle refuses to heal properly. You might think that an ankle is bound to clear within five years (the length of his contract I think) but you can never be too sure. Remember when the Japanese turned to another gorgeous English footballer to sell the game in their country? Gary Lineker played about 17 minutes out there before a toe injury saw the sun setting on his career. Before you start casting doubt on my description of Line-acre as gorgeous I was looking at it from the Japanese perspective. Even your dog ugly westerners seem to have a strange fascination to people from the Orient. Which probably explains them signing Ian Moores in the 1970's. It couldn't have been for football reasons. Lastly, I've just been leafing through some more old copies of Shoot magazine and the old player profiles came up with another interesting piece of info. Racism in football? I don't think it really existed in the early 1980's. In the focus on Coventry City's Danny Thomas when it came to the question about nicknames Danny cheerily responded "I have a few". This would seem to suggest Danny was a popular boy with his teammates but I'm not sure the names thought up by his colleagues would pass the more stringent political correctness tests of today. One of Danny's monikers was "Baldy". That's not too bad but "Calypso Kid" might be looked upon a bit more dubiously today but I think it's pretty harmless really. What about "The Wee Chimp" though? Not entirely PC is it? God only knows what the Fulham players were calling Paul Parker. Percy - Thursday, August 9 Before I give you the benefit of my wisdom on the likely events in store for the coming season I must have one last (I hope) word on the Leeds United saga. Their 15 point penalty has been upheld today so we get the stomach churning spectacle of Dennis Freaking Wise, complete with his Ben Turpin eyes, whining away about how hard done by they've been and letting everyone know how sorry he's feeling for himself. Do these $*!+^$"* (fill in your own personal favourite expletive there) not actually realise that their club has acted improperly? I know it's getting harder to be shocked or surprised by footballs' total inability to grasp any concept of reality but when Dennis Wise comes on the spoilt, sulking little brat moaning because someones' had the nerve to punish him then it's time to reach for the sick bucket. Message to Dennis, Leeds and everyone else in football, if you don't want to be punished then play by the rules. Specific advice to Dennis and Ken, don't spend any more of other people's money unless you know you will be able to pay it back (in full). Of course West Ham did basically get away with cheating, lying, cheating, lying, lying, lying and then lying some more but they play in the Premier League where the spoilt brats are bigger and can therefore get away with just about anything and still have their mums' tuck them in at night and read them a bedtime story. Why have the Premier League not done something now it turns out the Hammers were lying to them about Tevez being their player? Anyway, on to next season and Norbert called down the thunder and now he's got it. These predictions may shock you now but not half so much as in May 2008 when you look back in anger and wonder why you didn't scribble down these gems and away to the nearest bookies. Firstly the four lowest placed teams in the Premier League (not counting the three promoted clubs) will be Fulham, Reading, Bolton and Everton. This should have only been the bottom three but I wanted to get the Toffees in there. Promoted from the Championship will be Southampton, Norwich and Wolves while going in the opposite direction will be Preston, Burnley and Hull. Promoted from League One will be Notts Forest, Swansea and Gillingham while heading down the pan are Cheltenham, Yeovil, Leyton Orient and Crewe. Saying Multi Cheerio to League Two-io will be the MK Donald Bradman-ios, Darlo-io, Posh-io and Stock-io Count-io. Destined for a spell in the Conference-io are Macclesfield Town-io and Accrington-io Stanley-io. The League Cup final between Aston Villa and Everton will go to penalties with Joseph Yobo being the man to miss and the FA Cup final between Manchester City and Everton will also go to penalties with Joseph Yobo-io being the man to miss. Don't say you weren't warned. Percy - Monday, August 6 Isn't the Charity/Community Shield the most pointless game of football ever? Complete and utter pointless nonsense. Anyway it does provide an excuse to visit the pub of a Sunday afternoon so I went along to watch it. The one talking point the game provided me with was regarding one of United's new forwards, Nani. He had not been on the pitch two minutes, and had already fallen over in Norman Wisdom fashion, when I uttered my hope that either the United supporters, or one of their rivals, make up a song about him to the tune of the Kid Creole and the Coconuts classic Annie, I'm Not Your Daddy. Kid Creole And The Freaking Coconuts. Jesus. I did also venture the opinion that in the charity shield drawn games should be settled by a penalty shootout between the two managers rather than the players. This proposal went down a storm in the pub with everyone thinking it was a great idea until I added a slight technicality that they should also be naked. Then people weren't quite so sure. I can see this is going to be a long season.
Norbert - Football Chat - Friday, August 3 Hello folks. I toodled along with old Perce and our Women's footie correspondent to watch the England Ladies under 19's play in some final on Sunday (see Percy's last post). After overcoming the initial embarassment of showing an interest in the televisual feast on offer at one of our towns less salubrious inns, whilst most of the hairy neanderthals present were hurling various levels of abuse at the screen, I actually got back into "Pub Football Mode" for the first time in some while. The game was really, really bad, but the company and the enjoyment was there. That's all you really need isn't it. Sometimes, the worse the game on the box (in the pub), the better the banter has to be to overshadow it. This all culminated when Germany took the lead after about 396 minutes of absolute dross entertainment, just at the moment when Nena's "99 Red Balloons" started up on the pub jukebox. We were all thinking it, but before anyone could say " I bet they go and score now...", the ball was in the net. It seemed obvious at the time that the Teutonic anthem had spurred the frauleins on to great things and, because we all seemed to note this fact simultaneously, it had us all testing our chuckle muscles for a good minute or two afterwards. Being the wag that I am, I waited for the guffawing to subside, and at a suitably quiet moment, offered up: "If Rock me Amadeus comes on next we're f*cked". Well, it amused us, anyway. Roll on pub spectator footy. At this time of year silly transfers and speculation seems to be everywhere, and predictions abound. I'm sure some sort of prediction gauntlet will be passed between myself and Percy in the next few days. Sven's been spending money like a madman - Thank god he never had to actually go out and buy players for England. Which brings me to my first prediction of this season. What are the odds on that Minty? (He does still work for us doesn't he?). Percy - Wednesday, August 1 First of all I would just like to get in my first gripe of the season about Big Fat Sam. He's finally got his wish and managed to beg his way into a "Big Job" at Newcastle United. My mate Norbert reckons this job is an impossible one, a kind of managers graveyard. I've nothing against Newcastle but I hope this theory holds true at least until Big Fat Sam has bitten the dust. Anyway, he might be at a new club but the record seems to still be stuck. Not enough money to spend on players, not enough of this, not enough of that. Surely the only virtue you can claim to have as a manager Sam is that you've managed to get a few more years out of several apparent has beens who you picked up at Freeman Hardy & Willis. Surely no chairman would ever employ you unless they thought you might be able to create a functioning team without spending any cash. He does love telling other people how they should spend their money though. Maybe one day he will have made enough money out of football to buy a club himself and he can spend as much as he damn well pleases. Big Fat Sam apparently isn't too happy about the suggested move for Kevin Keegan as Director of Football either. I would think not. What would Big Fat Sam want with some nobhead hanging around who actually thinks that passing the ball, individual skill and stupid things like that actually matter. I would imagine Big Fat Sam's ideal choice |