2009 Review

Have been ligged on the sofa scratching my balls most of the holiday season, I have noticed a plethora of telly shows showing the "Best of 2009" and "The best of the Noughties", so being a bit a sheep, according to our lass anyway, I have decided to do a Bender Squad review of not only 2009, but also of the Decade. Being as bone idle as I am though, I will be doing just 2009 now, and one for the previous ten years either tomorrow or the day after. Or the day after that. Or maybe next week. But for now, I shall focus on the last twelve months, as I take you back over the last twelve months, and dish out my now annual awards.

The Bender Squad

Bender of the Year
The whole reason that we formed our little drinking gang, was to have company as we took off on drinking shindigs. Of course the economic storm has put paid to the number of them we can actually take part in, as some members aren't as solvent as they once were. So this year the nominations are a bit scarce. In fact there are only really two that can be considered. Our annual 1860trip, which was to Munich, and Mad ad's stag night north of the Border to Edinburgh. First up, Munich. Our second trip to the Bavarian capital, but this time there was no Oktoberfest, so we got to see a whole lot more of the city. We also had a couple of German speakers with us, which helped us secure uber cheap tickets to watch Der Lowen. Shouty was in inspired form, Jonesy proved a great addition, as did Dance Mat, the Major and Ryan, who try as we might, we could not think up a decent Squad name for. Adams do round Auld Reekie was a much hastier trip, we were only allocated two nights supping, although Tony Helmet tried to squeeze in a months worth in one weekend, with predictable results. Honourable mentions too the annual FA Cup final Day, the Christmas Shindig round Skipton and myself and Crespos trip through Darlington, Leeds and Bradford, all in one day. But the standout trip had to be Munich.

Winner- Munich
Runner up- Edinburgh

Squad Member of the Year
A first annual award, one for outstanding contribution to the cause of drinking beer. I plan on making this ward in a fashion similar to thew Wisden cricketer of the year, as in it can only be won by an individual once. I would this year say there are probably three worthy nominees. First up is the surprise one, Tony Helmet. Yes he was in full noodle mode in Edinburgh, but the fact remains he has proved to be one of the most reliable members this year. He is aways keen to track down errant members, and drag their sorry arses out. He often makes himself available to ferry us off to away games, and but for a lousy job that requires him to work weekends would probably be an ever present. Next up is Crespo, who never seems to miss any outing. He combines a healthy dose of common sense and buffoonery to make an excellent companion on any jaunt. You basically know he is as big a muppet as the rest of us, but not enough to get beaten up or arrested. But the winner, at the risk of sounding arrogant, has to be my good self. Fair enough, I probably haven't set as high a standard as in the previous years, but I do continue to organise almost every aspect of every trip we under take. Combine this with the blog that I maintain for our perusal, and I think it is deserved. Honourable mentions go to El Grande Queso, Big JohnnyM and the Shoutster, all of whom make more outings than most.

Winner- Euro Bri
Runners Up- Helmet and Crespo

Newcomer of the Year
We are all well aware that the Squad needs to gather new members to replece the comrades that fall foul of the evil Mean Repressive Spouse aka the M.R.S. Over the years we have seen several members, some as high profile as much lamented Jamon, fall into the mysterious waters of the pootang triangle, never to be seen again. This is why new blood is always required, and this year we have seen a couple emerge. First up is Sprocket. Although he hails from the back waters of Castleford, I figure we have found a bit of a diamond. Always hungry, and he gets a bit rowdy when pissed, he is still a good companion, and one of my favourite people to argue with. In contrast is the little fire cracker known as Charlie Child Catcher. Believe me, this fella is capable of going off anywhere, and although he requires a little seasoning, there could be a bright future for this guy as Shouty's heir apparent. Honourable mentions to the Major, Gareeeeee and Mickey D

Winner- Sprocket
Runner Up- Charlie Child Catcher


UK Pub of the Year
I have decided to preclude our main watering holes, the Villager and the Upper George, from this award section, as they are to all intents purposes our home from homes. So first up we have our new Bradford City local, and my dream Bradford pub, the New Beehive. A Georgian gem from the turn of the century, almost all it's original features have been maintained. It's courtyard, on a sunny day, is one of the finest places to be on the planet. To my mind this is what every pub should be like. The only other pub that we use in the town centre is the City Vaults, on oasis in a sea of boarded up shops, although Helmet still maintains that it is a gay bar. The final nomination is not a particularly nice pub, looks wise, but it was the sight of probably the biggest blow out of the year, the Haymarket in Edinburgh. It was under this roof that Helmet, Funky and Mad Ad went into Buffoon overdrive, and for this reason alone makes the final three. Watching the bouncer chase them out, on several occasions was hilarious. Honourable mentions go to Diggers and the Spiders Web in Edinburgh, Fannys in Saltaire and the Narrow Boat in Skipton.

Winner- The New Beehive, Bradford
Runner Up- The Haymarket, Edinburgh

Foreign Bar of the Year
Not a massive choice to pick from, as we only ventured to Munich. The beer kellers were great, my personal favourite were the two Augistiener ones near the train station, although the Hofbrauhaus was a lot better than I expected. The best one, however, was the one a taxi driver took us to on the Sunday night. You entered through a thick curtain, to be met by a bunch of worse for wear drinkers slumped at the bar, and a DJ playing some kick ass tunes. Whithin the hour the place was rammed, full of fit birds, and the beer was cheap. What was it called? I have no idea! But it was the best boozer I was in all year, bar none (forgive the pun).

Winner- ???????, Munich
Runner Up- Augustiener Keller, Munich

I think that just about covers the year in Bendering. As I alluded to at the beginning I will be doing an in depth review of the last decade, which in in 2003 saw us undertake our first foreign bender. I will also preview what lies ahead in 2010, in which, with luck, we will see us shake off the financial constraints of the downturn, and get out a bit more.

Budweiser versus Rolling Rock

Two American brews round out the quarter final round (with the Guinness/Heineken replay yet to be played) with one of the worlds most recognised brand names coming up against what was once a small independent brewery in LaTrobe, Pennsylvania. Of course they both are part of the massive InBev corporation now, just another brand in a faceless multi-national. Anyway, I know Bud has plenty of fans amongst the Squad, although it's biggest supporter doesn't do computers, so it will not be getting his vote. I do not envision either one winning the "Official beer of the Bender Squad" title, but the winner will be in the last four.

Rolling Rock

What else can you say? It's an advert for Rolling Rock. I do, however, reckon there may be more than a few members who wished that they worked in an office that had such a dress code.

Budweiser

There plenty of classic Budweiser commercials that I could have shown, the frogs and the "Whasssssupppppp!" are probably the best known, but I have decided on this one for its seasonal setting, even though it doesn't feature the proper stuff, but the neutered tasting Bud Lite.

Battlle of the Brews....Kolcsh versus Corona

A controversial round indeed, in which accusations of skull duggery abound. With only a hand full of hours remaining till the voting deadline expired, it seemed the champion of the Latin beers would prevail, and the lime drinking Nancy Boys would be represented in the Semi Finals. But as much to my surprise as anybody else. The next time I logged onto the Blog, the drink brewed only in Cologne had nudged in front, to win by a single vote. Crespo has already accused me of vote rigging, but I am unequivocal in my innocence. Our semis to date are an all Teutonic affair, but there is still a replay to be held, and the last qualifier, which is update above, is an all American tie, which will break up the German monopoly.

Through to the last four;

DAB
Kolsch

Festive Buffoonery

Christmas has always proved fertile ground for unbridled idiocy, and after me and the Child Catchers performance in Skipton, it looked like 2009 would be no different. But for some reason, it proved to be a bit of a false dawn. There hasn't been many get togethers this year, a by product of the impact of numerous members being infiltrated by the nefarious M.R.S, so opportunity has been scarce. But then came Crespo. I had bailed on our Boxing Day session, a result of far too many lunch time pints, so was not present as the Squad pretty boy undertook a few slugs of Polish Vodka, with ABV of 98%. A few moments after he had finished one, he pronounced that it would now be the opportune time to have "gay man sex." Four points to the lanky drunkard.

But returning to the lack of Tom Foolery displayed so far this year. I have indicated as too on reason there has not been as much to report, but there is one that is even more surprising. The apparent alien abduction of Tony Helmet. It is becoming quite obvious that some extra terrestrials have whisked him off to a distant galaxy, and replaced with him a more sober, responsible (although still mind blindingly loud) doppelganger. I am not alone in remarking on how un- idiot like he has been since receiving the Maillot Jaune. All I know is that they must be wondering what's hit them on planet Zorg, our whatever celestial body the original Helmet is now on. I was also becoming concerned that the the Right Honourable Shouty had joined successor in some inter planetary shenanigans, but was pleased to announce the first score for one of our previous champions. It is only a solitary point, and to the untrained will seem hars, as it is for losing his mobile phone. But for those who have had the pleasure over the last few years of Shoutys company, you will be well aware that this is an almost monthly occurrence, and is worthy of the point is garners.

Current 2010 Standings

1. Euro Bri 6 points
2. Crespo 5 points
3. Charlie Child Catcher 4 points
   
4. Gareeeeeee 4 points
   
5. Mikey D 3 Points
6. San 1 Point
7. Grande Queso 1 point
8. Shotuy 1 point

There is expected to be some heavy scoring though on News Year Eve, as I will attending the annual Jannetta shindig. Present will be two former title holders, Funky and Helmet, plus perennial contender, moi, and the dark horse that is Lobon. Could get silly......

Bantams 1 Shrews 3

League Two referees, are shite. This was shaping up to be a decent game, City were creating plenty of chances, the best was spurned by Evans, when Shrewsbury scored a cracker on their first attack. The guy spanked it home from all of twenty five yards. The Bantams response was swift, Hanson finished off good work by Neilson, and all seemed set fair for the lads in Claret to push on victory. Enter the diminutive chap in black. Was it a penalty? If it was, it was an awfully soft one, as the attacker seemed all to keen to throw himself to the floor. But Clarke did give him the chance to do so, and against the run of play the visitors were back in front. That is not what killed the game. Clarkey was given a second yellow on the stroke of half time, for the tamest of tackles, and in my opinion it was the Shrews player who needed a card for simulation. But the linesman and ref were not to be persuaded otherwise, and off the lanky defender went, as did any chance of a decent game. The second half saw City endeavour greatly, but the away team were all to happy to contain and soak up pressure. Of course a chance came against the ten men, and it was taken, 3-1. Mid table mediocrity is beckoning......

Kev Watch- A seasons best performance, and not just because he gave me a lift home. There was only us two present, we had a free ticket, but could fin no takers, and we were both hangover free. He was very animated, especially when the red card was shown, and proved decent company as the game descended into boredom. He didn't even argue about leaving with stoppage time left, as it was bloody freezing. 9/10

Pie Watch- Sold out of my favourite Steak and Kidney, so I plumped for the Meat and Potato. Why they do not reveal the kind of meat it is has always been a worry to me, but everyone else likes it, so I gave it a whirl. It was a good temperature, and was chockful of filling, but to my experienced palate was bland. I hazard that if you were to create a pie filled with cardboard, it would taste similar. My rating? Boring. 5/10

Merry Christmas

Well it's half past midnight, so it is officially Christmas day. I would like to wish all members of the squad, and everybody else who logs on to this nonsense a most Merry Christmas. My kids will be jumping all over me in the next five hours, so I will keep this last post till after Boxing day brief. Our grand yuletide shindig on Boxing Day looks to be a home bound affair, as our planned voyage over the Pennines has been scuppered by the weather. Bury versus Bradford City has been called off, so it looks like we will be going to the bookies, laying some bets, and then watching some live football on the telly in a nice warm pub. Not a a bad swap if you ask me. The weather will probably also put our next home game, on the 28th under severe threat, so we may well be spending yet another afternoon in the pub. This is also the same day as Shouty's Saltaire Posses annual spicy soup jaunt to Ilkley, although an irate Shoutster may have revoked my invite. The buffoon showed up at the George on Christmas Eve, only to find that we hadn't bothered this year, due to work commitments and the freezing cold. Of course it was all my fault, and he says he is never coming out with me again. Of course it never crossed his mind to call before he went to Wibsey, and the fact that he rang me up at 8:15, when I told him I wasn't staying out past nine also seemed to have slipped the stroppy tarts mind. No doubt we will be mates again by the Bank Holiday.

Anyway, i best make myself scarce before Rudolf and his pals show up with the big guy in red. So have a good one, and I hope you get all the loot you asked for. Merry Christmas.

Yuletide Buffoonery?

Well the annual Bender squad Christmas shindig is now history. A decent turnout, considering the weather, the recession and the nefarious M.R.S. took off too Skipton for a day time drinking session. The fact that there had been a healthy covering of snow the night before, lent the occasion a festive feel, although it did mean that all the trains were running late, and we found ourselves twiddling our thumbs on an ice cold platform, but we eventually made our destination. Myself, Crespo, Shotgun and big JohnnyM hooked up with Helmet, the King of the Pixies, El Grande Queso and his apprentice Charlie Child Catcher in Bingers, before hooking up with Dead Eye and Mad Ad in Skipton, where we were joined a few hours latter by Shouty Shipley posse.

Enough with the roll call. Things started out steady enough, you could even say quite civilized. Queso was slightly the worse for wear, but seeing as it had been his works doooo the night before he was do reasonably well. He was still sporting his stamp from the Pig Hut, but more alarmingly he was also wearing something called a "snoob" I believe. No matter which way you look at it, it was something a forty plus captain of industry should have grown out of, and was worthy of the point that was awarded to him. Which brings us nicely onto the subject of Buffoonery. In Helmet and Shouty, we were blessed with the company of the current, and prior recipients of the Maillot Jaune, so a bit of a display was expected. And we got one. From me. A case of mistaken identity resulted in one of the finest slaps you will ever witness. My ears are still ringing. Combine that with my spinning Charlie trick that resulted in me landing on my bonce, and it was agreed that six points were well earned. It still needs some discussion, but I think the Child Catcher earned himself some. In the Narrow Boat he decided to take on a group of the biggest, burliest rugby type fellas in a singing contest. Alas, our diminutive whirlwind only really knows one song about Leeds United, and was getting the Michael well and truly ripped out of him. This lead to a physical assault on his mountainous opponents, who ended up swinging him back and forth to the tune of "Rock a Bye Baby." It was highly amusing. A provisional four pointer, although I will refer it to a wider forum. If I am informed any further nonsense, you will be the first to know.

Current 2010 Standings

1. Euro Bri 6 points
2. Gareeeeeee 4 points
   
3. Mikey D 3 Points
4. San 1 Point
5. Grande Queso 1 point
6. Crespo 1 point
   

Mission Christmas Bender

The times are set, and my mobile is charged. Rendezvous is Spoons in Bingley for between 12:00 hours and 12:30 hours. For the lightweight amongst you, we shall be arriving in Skipton at approximately 13:30, starting in the Spoons branch, before moving onto the boozers along the canal. Much buffoonery is expected, as we do not envision leaving the Gateway to the Dales much before 22:30, around the time of the last train. The artillery, namely Shouty, is not expected till 15:00 hours, although loud shell bursts are expected from the loose cannons of Tony Helmet. I do appreciate that money is tight this festive period, but you only live once, so get yer arse out! If you have any plans for Sunday, it might well prove prudent to postpone or cancel.

Kolsch v Corona

This should be a very interesting match up. Although never proved, there was a strong suspicion of ballot stuffing for both of these brews in the last round, both garnering an inordinate amount of votes. One is a well known favourite of the good Doctor, the other is the beverage of choice of the Right Honourable. As voting goes, it appears to be a straight shout between Mugabe and the guy who runs Afghanistan, Karzhai. A fair and equitable round is not expected.

Shouty Evoloved from a Meerkat

Simples. Shouty is a distant relative of the meerkat, a theory fleshed out in this Kolsh advert. A gluttonous, hiccuping fool, who is addicted to Kolsh. saying that, the las place you would stick him is in a barrel of beer.

Corona Advert

Let's face it. You can't beat a commercial with a hot chick in a bikini on a sandy beach. I will never be convinced with the fruit thing, but lime aside, it is a fine drink, served ice cold on a red hot summers day.

We Have a Winner

After the first quarter final ended in a dead heat, our first entry into the hat for the semi finals of "Battle of the Brews" is DAB. Now I know you are all figuring that I pulled some jiggery pokery to make sure the Dortmunder progressed, but hand on heart I didn't. Only one vote did I cast, as I fully expected Peroni to knock my favourite brew out of the race to be crowned the "Official Beer of the Bender Squad." But it won in a landslide. Quite a surprise indeed....

Last Four Qualifiers;

DAB

Good Luck

It is something that shouldn't be condoned, but you just can't help having a grudging respect for Paul Hopes. You can almost imagine the 58 year olds progression through life. A decent comprehension of maths. Progression through university. Marry third or fourth girl you got your leg over with. Land half decent job with faceless multi national. Have kids, pay mortgage, die. A pretty mundane lifetime, lived out by millions. But our hero in this tale must have realised he might have been missing out, and didn't want to follow the predetermined path that was set out before him. After spending 23 years in the employment of retail giant Toys R Us, he began to lead a double life, visiting massage parlours. But not content with illicit visits to his local knocking shop, he set up a bogus account, and syphoned off £3.6 million pounds from his employer, and blew it all on the five girls call girls who he visited. One paid of her mortgage, another spent hers on a brand new Bentley. His meetings with these ladies of the night took place in the most luxurious hotels he could find, and for three years lived the high life.

Of course the fact that I am I am relaying this story to you lot, means he was eventually caught. Apparently somebody tipped off the feds, and his whirlwind lifestyle was at an end. I know I shouldn't condone what this fella did, his wife and kids benefited not a penny from his shenanigans, and only found out when the rozzers rang the front door bell, but I can't help smiling at his antics and wishing the guy good luck. He got seven years in the end up, but I still wager he is sporting a grin when he is turned loose.

Not Posh Enough

John the Don, the Bender Squads very own blond bombshell, has finally laid his cards on the table on what he thinks of our social standing. For the last few months he had the great idea for his 70th birthday, of hiring a trio of gulets ( a kind of basic yacht) to sail us along the coast of Turkey in four years time. We all loved the plan, it looked the dog bollox, and although it was a bit pricey, we had plenty of time to save up some brass for a most excellent adventure. But the Don started to look a bit worried when the subject of going as pirates was broached. Slowly he began to make noises about an alternate plan to go on a cruise instead. I pointed out that I was way to young to be chasing bored pensioners around the shuffleboard court. I told him that if he thought we were a bunch of scuffers he should just say so, but he demurred, and said we should go with the gulets. Till I was gone that is, and he has now said that he doesn't think were suitable for the cooler trip, and he wants to do a cruise instead. Wait till I see the old duffer....

Whatever

A short report on the game down the Wood, which had a definite dead rubber feel about. The final score of 21-16, shows that defending was not given the highest priority, as a make shift Righteous were yet again turned over by batty boys of the JMF. There actually wasn't a great deal of outstanding moments. Shotgun and Two Scoops had a bit of a fall out. Big Phil played like he was still representing the MoFo, although he did give Jamon a taste of the Mighty Shoulder Barge that he possesses. I thought it was funny anyway. As for the rest of the shootout, it was pretty tame stuff. Even Funky and Jamon failed to wind up the Elite, but it was good to see the good Doctor and the leader of the JMF resume there long running bickerfest. One more game remains in '09, before we get back to the serious stuff in the new year. Curse those cock hungry ragamuffins!

Christmas Dooooooo!

A reminder that this Saturday is the official Bender Squad Yuletide gathering. As usual we are heading off to Skipton on a mini Bender, starting around one o'clockish, and finishing when we are damn well ready. I know not all of you are able to partake for the duration (pussies) but if you can make an appearance, it would be nice to see you. You know it makes sense.....

Bantams 2 Millers 4

An abreviated account of Saturdays win, as I didn't get to the ground till half time, having slept in and then getting bogged down on a job. I even missed our equaliser, as I was busy getting a pie. So I took my seat, the game finely balanced at two goals a piece. At first it looked only a matter of time before Rotherham regained their advantage, having hit the post, and fluffing a golden opportunity when three players were played onside as the City defence moved out of their penalty area. I don't think they have the wherewithal to play such a tactic as complex as the offside trap. But then to my surprise, and most of the crowds, we started playing an attacking game that hadn't been seen in many a Saturday. The Millers keeper pulled off a couple of cat like saves to repel the boys in claret, and it looked like the game was ours for the taking. But of course this is Bradford City, and it wasn't to last. An innocuous tackle was harshly penalised just inside Bradfords half, and the Millers full back chipped our goalie from nigh on fifty yards out. A late strike gave the scoreline a flattering edge, but it was difficult to argue with the outcome. El Grande Queso has started his own McCall out campaign, and I am not so sure he is wrong. Of course a win tomorrow at Carlisle, and the prospect of a a game against Leeds for the chance to play at Wembley may change that.

Pie Rating- I am glad my piecott is at an end, as it is happy days at Valley Parade. I don't know who they have put in charge of pies, but they are doing a stand up job. I enticed Micky D into a Streak and Kidney, and he rated it highly. I was not able to repeat my fat trick of three pies in a half, as I was going out for a curry later, so I just had the one. Mmmmmm 8/10

Kev Watch- On a break for this week, as I didn't see much of him. He was sat at the opposite end of our seats, getting the full Helmet treatment from Ike and Sam.

Der Crickey!!

I hope I am not jinxing them, but since I last reported on Der Lowen, they were on a poor run of form, and were barely managing to keep their heads above the relegation places. But whilst my PC buckled under the weight of all that pornography that the Elster had downloaded, 1860 embarked on a four match unbeaten run, winning three of them. The game they drew should have been a win, but they blew a two goal lead against Fortuna Dusseldorf, with just 15 minutes remaining. This run means we are now up to the dizzy heights of ninth place. With only one game left prior to the winter break, it is nice to see the Lions dragging themselves back into contention. Hopefully. Unless I have cursed them.

Will they Never Learn??

There is a ghost story involving a visiting dandy holed up in a Bradford house during the English Civil War. An apparition appears before him wailing "Pity Poor Bradford" The phantom must have been few hundred years too soon, because she must have known the quality of councils and councillors that this poor city would have foisted upon it. A town centre that had virtually no bombing raids during World War Two, had many fine Victorian and Edwardian buildings to proud off. But what Adolf never thought to do, the elected burghers of the 1960's carried out with joy, and gems such as the Swan Arcade, Old Empress Inn and Kirkgate Market to name but a few, were replaced by the most ugly carbuncles visited upon any city in the country. Most of them never made it past the 1980's, although anybody who has had the misfortune to go shopping in the Arndale, or arrived at the grim Interchange will get the picture.

Fast forward to the new millennium, and the wheel appears to be reaching full circle. Having chased away almost all investment in the city, Bradford City Centre has to be one of the most forlorn places on the planet. The big Westfield Shopping Mall that was due to regenerate downtown, has been a huge crater for pushing five years now, with no sign of any imminent building work. The much loved Odeon building is in danger of becoming a matching hole, as the idiots seemed dead determined to reduce it to rubble, so some pie in the sky, soulless complex can take it's place. Throw in the moronic "City Park" scheme, and you may as well board the place up.

If all this doesn't convince you the lunatics are running the asylum, this must surely do so. In a bid to get folk shopping in town, some bright spark decided to have a German Christmas market for four weeks. A good idea, and one that was adopted by both Leeds and Manchester. Being fans of all things Teutonic, me and Helmet went to visit on a Friday night. Oompah bands, fine German ale and Bratwurst were much anticipated, until we got there. First up no band. Instead we had Slade piped over a PA system. People. In the Beer garden there were two people. Me and Helmet. The beer. "Which beer would you like? German or Carlsberg?" asked mein hostess. "German" we chorused. As she poured, Tony asked what kind it was. "Becks" she said. Now I realise that technically she was correct, but we were both hoping for something that was not available throughout the beer drinking world. The wurst was all right, but the stalls were pretty tacky, and because it shut up at eight o'clock, nobody was around. It was supposed to last a month, but the stall holders, not doubt out of pocket, high tailed it back to the Fatherland after just a fortnight.

Now let's compare it to the one in Leeds. A proper beer keller had been constructed, along with a separate tavern, both a which sold beers like Paulaners, a proper Bavarian drop, and one that is a little more authentic than Becks. They were open till eleven, and were so busy that there was a queue to get in, and groups of lads were not allowed entry. We took off round Leeds, which was full of chain bars, such as O'Neils and Yates, that long ago packed up and moved out of Bradford. The place was buzzing, and made me realise just how far behind my home town has fallen. How to stem the tide? That is the question, and one that I do not hold a definite answer too. But I can tell you one thing. A mirror lake and a few trees ain't going to solve the problem.

Wilsden Postman

Second Quarter Final...Peroni v DAB

The first quarter final ended in a dead heat between Heineken and Guinness, so there will be a replay at the end of the last eight round. I reckon this one should be pretty straight forward, as Peroni has quite a hard core following, especially among the meat ball lovers, and DAB hasn't been tried by as many of you out there. This can be rectified though, as there is an off licence next to Highgate fisheries at Horton Bank Top that sells for packs. Sorry about the lack of DAB ad, but if you can find one, that is worth posting, you are indeed a better man than me.

Not a DAB advert

Couldn't find a decent DAB clip. They all seemed to feature boring Canadiens waffling on in a very dull fashion. So instead I found this amusing effort from Tuborg.

Birra Peroni - Nastro Azzurro

Just what you would expect from an Italian beer advert. Opera music, fit bird, handsome dude, flying paint and bugger all beer. Very classy.

Drag Queen Sings

Well the maths were simple. One more JMF win, and our two year spell as Champions of the Wood would be over. Glory hunter Jamon, sniffing victory, made a long awaited reappearance, and with Shotgun filling in for the injured Clogs, the sides were pretty much as they should be. The Righteous came into this weeks must win game as the form team, having gone unbeaten in five, of which only two were victories. But there was a glimmer of hope, as four of the MoFo said they would be unable to play on the 30th, for which I would have claimed a forefeit, so with that fixture in the bag, it meant the shirt lifters were in effect two up with three to play. The hope of the Euro boys was that a win might just make the boys in red a bit nervy, and open up the possibility of the most unexpected of come backs. The scene was set...

As expected. the opening salvos were a tight affair, the JMF drawing first blood, but an instant Elite comeback saw us take a slender lead. But after a quarter of an hour the MoFo broke into a five goal lead, slack defending, passing and goal keeping being the downfall of the valiant lads in white. It looked to be game set and season to Jamons boys, but all of a sudden their shooting became wayward, and the comeback was launched. As usual, at the first sign of danger, they began to bicker with each other, and the Euro boys seemed set fair to make them pay for their earlier profligacy. But the game turned in a heart beat, as the good Doctor injured his back in the line of duty, and retired to goalkeeping duties to try and rectify his strain. His lack of mobility became evident straight away, as Dead Eye, Luklear and Funky took turns to stoke the ball low into the corners, regaining a five goal advantage. It was a sad way for the game to be decided, as up till then it was shaping up to be quite a tussle. No blame can be apportioned in any way to the good Doctor, a back strain is about the worse knock you can pick up playing five a side, but our heads dropped, and our formation disintegrated as we probably strived a little too hard to chase the game. Combine this with the time wasting tactics now employed by the rent boy loving MoFo, it was a miracle that we made yet another valiant effort to turn the tide. With time against us we again pulled back to a within a couple of scores, the Shoutster ran himself into the ground for the cause, but as always when chasing the game, space was left at the back, and it was exploited, I think the goal deficit was four at the bell. So the forfeited game became academic, as the JMF won the solitary game required. Congratulations to the JMF, Champions of 2009, and worthy winners they were.

The celebrations in the showers were a bit much though......

Loooong Sleep In

I am still catching up on recent activity, and do apologise for my seemingly bone idleness of late. Afraid I was on the lash all weekend. Friday I wasn't too bad, swift gallon ion the George, but after going up to Darlington for the match on Saturday with Crespo and Shotgun, I went on a bit of a mission. The good Doctor had enough sense to bail, but me and Kev were in full on mode, as we hooked up with Sprocket, Waddy, and for a brief spell Shouty, over in Leeds. Then at some time in the early hours, me and my lanky buddy Kev, took off to meet up with Big JohnnyM's posse, back in Bradford, to help wet the head of his new baby girl. This resulted in me not surfacing till 8 o'clock the next evening, for all of two hours. Yesterday after work this resulted in more nap time on the sofa. This getting old malarkey sucks big time. Will update on our weekend antics, what is going on in battle of the brews and so forth tomorrow when I get in from work.

Wood Catch Up

The last post written before my PC malfunction was to report on a draw that seemed to have left the Righteous Euro boys with a mountain to climb. But then we didn't figure that there would be no break for Christmas this year, so we had an extra two games to try and pull back from the abyss. Of course this meant we needed a win, and in a true end to end encounter it was earned in a dramatic fashion. The game was nip and tuck all the way, the Euro lads should have been out of sight, but once again the goal keeping of the JMF was more David Seaman than Seaman loving. First up was Funky, who held the good guys at bay, and with his replacement Dead Eye more than matching his effort, a stalemate looked to be the outcome. Chief Magoo, was Two Scoops, who at one point missed four shots in as many seconds. But with mere seconds remaining, I found myself in space, faced by two red shirted defenders, Funky and Shotgun. Two Scoops was screaming for the ball to played square, but after witnessing his Quadoo of seconds prior, I decided to risk his wrath and go for glory. Executing a body swerve that sent my two opponents in opposite directions, I preceded to sit Dead Eye down, and fire low into the corner. Our celebrations were cut short by the bell, and a last gasp win was ours. The missus got it good that night, let me tell you.

So last week, we showed up full of confidence, three games behind with five to play. Our arrogance was short lived though, as we were unceremoniously bent over and given it Texas style by the rampant reds. Five down in double quick time, and toys began leaving the cot on the Righteous side. Chief mumbler, and piss poor goal keeper Young Gaz grumbled his way into the nets, and all appeared lost. But then the goals dried up for the rent boy loving MoFo. By some strange miracle, we began to make inroads into the JMF lead, as a Magoo like cloud descended over the boys in red. But still we could not get in front, and time was running out rapidly. Funky broke free and buried a low shot that looked to have secured the win, but then they did something very out of character. Usually, when they find themselves with a slender lead as the clock ticks down, they revert to an Italian style of defending, where they waste time by slowly passing the ball back to the keeper ( something that will be addressed in the New Year) in an ugly display of gamesmanship. But for some reason they decided to go for another goal. Two Scoops broke up an attack, and I carried the ball out of defence, drawing the JMF rearguard towards the ball, before slipping a perfect pass to a wide open Shotgun. Readers of previous reports will be more than aware that the good Doctor has been suffering a crisis of confidence over the last few weeks, but that was all put behind him, as he smashed the equaliser into the far corner. But a win was what was really required, and with just seconds to go, the JMF's last attack broke down, and I played Scoops in, one on one with the keeper, who was Big Phil, not the most feline of guardians. He had an age to score the most unlikely of winners, but for reasons only known to himself, he swivelled and shot blind, straight at the advancing keeper, earning himself back to back Magoo awards. The bell signalled the draw, and what could have been a two game deficit with four to play, was stuck on a more ominous three down with four. The MoFo are now but one win away from securing the prize.......

2009 Season

JMF wins - 22

Euro Elite - 19

Draws - 5

Pilgrims 0 Bantams 1

Well at least we won. Apparently there was a football match going on out on the pitch in front of us, although I have seen more skill and tactical awareness on a Sunday league park. It is remarkable that after more than two and a half seasons, McCall stills seems to have no idea on tactics or formation. His latest ploy appears to be a five man midfield, that is continually by passed by the big hoof up to Hansen. If this is not bad enough, instead of moving into space searching for the flick on, they all run after the ball like a bunch of overgrown toddlers, Evans being the worst offender. He runs every where, but never into space. I'd love to know what Boulding has done to upset our ginger gaffer, although he didn't massively impress on this rare start. Still three points off the playoff places means we still have hope, although Saturdays game against high flying Rotherham will provide a better barometer of our ambitions for promotion.

Pie Rating- It would have been nice to provide a picture of the Darlo pie offerings at this point, but my camera finally succumbed to the torture that Crespo and Sprocket subjected it to in Munich. The tosspots. This ground was the scene of the worst grub sampled last season, and I approached the counter with trepidation, and plumped for the Steak and Kidney. It was better than last years, but once again barely tepid in temperature. And they sauce was some no name generic brand, that required three sachets to garner a decent splash. The good Doctor was much more appreciative of his meat and potato pie, and gave it a seven if remember right, but I wasn't so sure, and thought a second was needed to make my decision. No pies till half time, the spotty youngster told me. Chance would have been a fine thing, after lining up for a good twenty minutes at the interval, the geezer in front bought the last three in the whole ground. A catasro-pie! An angry 4/10

Crespo Watch-He accused me of winding him up, and we fratched for the majority of the game, and all of the journey home. Made up after we got back on the ale. Gains points for driving us up there. 6/10

Back in Business

At last, I am once again able to access the super fast information highway. Big up to Geevers, for building me a new computer, so I may once again share my musings with the world. My old machine finally collapsed under the weight of lesbian double penetration porn, that the Elster had stuffed my hard drive to bursting with. Dirty girl that she is.... So you would expect me to be catching up with loads of postings about all the latest shenanigans. I wish. The Elsters giving me shite about going to some Dickensian market in the village. They must have a XXX lesbo hardcore stall. After that, myself and the Mighty Crespo are off to Darlington to watch the faltering Bantams try and get their promotion challenge back on track. Then we are off to meet up with the Sprocketmeister and the Shoutster in Leeds, to check out the German Christmas markets, and see if we can find some alt to get our bespectacled hero all weird and fucked up on. Last, and by no means least, me and Crespo are going to hook up big JohnnyM's posse, who are out wetting his daughters head. So I will try and catch up tomorrow, hang over permitting, although the Snaggle Toothed Gypsy, aka my mother in law, is coming around to help the Elster decorate the front room, so I wouldn't be holding my breath....