Le Grande Buffoon 2008-First Quarter Rankings

A slow start to 2008, although it does include the last months of 2007, means Le Maillot Jaune is still very much up for grabs. Last years runaway winner, the Funky Messiah, got off to a ripping start, his Boxing Day/New Years performance around Wilsden was of an extremely high quality, something we have come to expect from a perennial contender. He manged to get turfed out of Ropey's house party, for coming on to his missus, and then following her up to the kazi, and refused to get out. He then did a full frontal slide down the hill outside the village community hall, before knocking up his ex girlfriend, who took pity on him, and made sure he got home. We all thought this was the opening shots of what was going to be possibly the greatest buffoon year of all, but since then our early season favourite has gone quiet. The slack was picked up by Shouty, who many see as the most serious challenger to last years winner, in particular his lost weekend, when he was saved from oblivion by Crespo. After staying out all night, he decided to have a couple of liveners before retiring to catch up on some kip. These "liveners" resulted in myself and Crespo receiving numerous phone calls from the future Member of Parliament, who was in a fair old state. He pitched up at Crespos, who took him and sobered him up, then made room for him in his spare room. He reckoned later in the week to have been out till last orders, but Crespo said it was eight o'clock at latest. He was so drunk that they stopped serving him in the Prune. On the Bender Squad Xmas shindig he also tried to get some cash out of an obviously out of order cash point, and sat with a puzzled look on his face for about 10 minutes. I myself accrued plenty of buffoon points that evening, for reason I can not put in print, safe to say the were for the same indiscretion that saw Tony Helmet earn his points in the Villager. Shouty also earned himself some extra Brucie bonus points for a similar incident to both back at Helmets house, that I can vouch for, as I was there. Dazzler and Queso have also racked themselves a few scores from the Casino night, but in all that is about it. Dark horses John the Don and Mad Ad have beenkeeping a low profile, and the rest of the Squad have been acting far too sensibly. So with the first quarter up, the top five is as follows;

1. The Funky Messiah-His strong showing over the Christmas period sees him hold on to his first place, but coming up hard on the rails is;
2. The Right Honourable Shouty-At cats cock hair behind the 2007 champion, and with the pre season favourite seemingly to be growing up, he is now considered by most to be the new favourite, but things can change as he is followed in, albeit at some distance, by an annual dark horse;
3. European Bri-the Casino and Park episodes have seen me rise into the running fore the first time since Munich, but I would like to think this is more to do with the slow start to the year, rather than a slow descent into the realms of the two fellas above me. I am closely followed by;
4. The Boy Dazzler-Gains his high entry for being too drunk to be in a Casino, and losing his wallet last Saturday. Still gets drunker than any man this side of Lefty, and with a few foreign excursions ahead of us, is a good outside bet.
5. Tony Helmet-Included here more on reputation than performance, but the creaking chair that broke under his considerable girth was hilarious, and more than enough to earn him a spot in the top five.

As I have pointed out, the beginning of the year is always a quiet period, and as the weather warms up, so does the potential for idiocy. One person who would feature in the top three is Lefty, for his heroic effort in Otley, but his membership is still pending, although I would be more than happy to include him.

Lowen News

Great news, the Borussia M'gladbach game has been announced as being on the Sunday, 27th of April, at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. This means myself, Shouty and The Boy will get to see Der Lowen play. After the previous run of form though, it is unlikely to be a six point promotion battle, a run of four draws has the Lions slip into eighth place, six points off the promotion places, whilst Monchengladbach are in first place 12 points ahead of TSV. The next issue is getting tickets for the game, but Bourussia's stadium holds just shy off 55,000, so we are more than hopeful.

There Goes Thursday Nights

The new Greys Anatomy series starts on Five tomorrow. I bet it still sucks cock big time.

How Did That Happen??

Somehow the JMF shirt lifters carved out a two goal victory last night. Although we were not at our best, big JohnnyM was carrying an injury and Shouty was nursing a bout of man flu, we still gave a good account of ourselves. Wayward shooting, step forward Mercenary, and even worse, a trio of goals that slipped through the legs of the aforementioned mercenary, Shouty and big John, proved ultimately to be the difference between glory and failure. The opening goal was the pick of the greased pig bunch, as the Mercenary actually took control of the ball, looked up with it firmly held in his hands, and then somehow managed to toss it between his legs into the back of the net. I personally have suspicions an Indian gambling ring may be involved. The MoFo built a six goal advantage on the back of their ill gotten fortune, but it couldn't last, and the final minutes were all Euro as we clawed our way back into contention. But with the game finely balanced, the cock suckers set in motion a dastardly time wasting ploy too preserve a rare victory. I hate those knob jockeys sooooo much.

Line-ups;

JMF- Jamon, Crespo, Funky, Dead Eye and Luklear War

EURO E- JohnnyMedia, Mercenary, Clogs, Euro Bri and Shouty

2008 Season

• JMF wins -4



• Euro Elite - 7



• Draws - 0

Happy St Patricks Day

After this weekends deprivations, and with Easter bank holiday just round the corner, and even worse, an important meeting at work tomorrow, I will be spending Saint Pats at home. I did throw back a few Guinness's with big Frank yesterday, but the Elster collared me before I could get too toasted. We did have a pretty good session however after the game on Saturday night. Our new favourite city centre boozer, the City Vaults, was the scene of our drinking binge, and it was good to see the O.M.B. (original meatball) and a real blast from the past, Mr Whiteside out again. I thought I could argue the toss about politics, but I may have met my match in Simon, who definitely goes for the loud is best option when arguing. Highlight of the evening was Crespo's tale of abusing the Internet at work. He was called into see his manager about the amount of time he was surfing on the web, and in particular why he had visited a site called "The Bender Squad" on 58 separate occasions. To top it all, as he was telling us how he had to explain that he wasn't gay, the campest barman in Yorkshire was behind him collecting glasses, and came out in sympathy with poor old Crespo. Everything gets a bit hazy after this, I woke up on the sofa the next morning with an empty Subway sandwich bag next to me and a couple of oatmeal and raisin cookies on my chest. The Shoutster was yet a gain the last man out, he took himself off to Funkys with some geezer he bumped into, and I haven't heard from Crespo or Meatball since. The Boy Dazzler and Mr Whiteside were still at it when I last spoke to him at about 11o'clock the next morning. Dazzler did lose his wallet however, but didn't seem to perturbed as he and Simon were heading out to do the hair of the dog. There is talk of a mini bender Good Friday afternoon, I will put together a plan of action later in the week, and for the FA Cup final bender on the 17th of May, we have decided to go to Shoutys turf, Shipley. I will leave the decision on the venue up to the Right Honourable.

The Week in Nonsense

The health fascists take this weeks biscuit on the nonsense front. A Merseyside pressure group(?) wants all films featuring a character smoking, to be re-classified as certificate 18. They claim there is proof that people take up smoking after seeing screen icons light up on screen. They are even saying they are willing to go it alone, and impose a ban on such movies throughout Liverpool. So in a city where a young boy can be killed by gang members that can't be caught, and home to some of the most deprived areas in the country, has decided to put all it's efforts in too what I think is the single most nonsensical idea I have stumbled across so far this year. It illustrates beautifully just how stupid these people think we are. Does anybody really know anyone who started smoking because they saw it in a movie? Did Dot Cotton on Eastenders really make fags so glamorous, that legions of viewers took up tab smoking? Of course not. If you are a non-smoker though, don't be feeling too smug. The health Gestapo are dreaming up ideas of such idiocy that it would make your head spin. A leading plastic surgeon, one Peter Mahaffey, told the British Medical Journal, police should carry breathalysers and fine those three times over the drink-drive limit £100.

"I think as a society we have had enough. We need to send out a strong message.

"The levels of drinking and the harm it is causing is depressing. I see people with terrible injuries that they will never recover from. Now is the time to act." He is quoted as saying.

Well Dr Mahaffey, I've got news for you. What society has really had enough of, is sanctimonious do gooders telling us what is good for us, and condoning fines for behaviour they find unacceptable. Think about all the people out having a good time this weekend, and then think of the tiny minority that will cause trouble and get in fights. Target these people with jail time and hefty fines mate, not hard working taxpayers like me and my brethren, who just happen to enjoy a spot of "binge" drinking now and again.

Just who the fuck does he think he is? Even Alcohol Concern withheld support.

Next up is a security minister who goes by the title Lord West. He reckons it would be "silly" not have any communication with terrorist groups such as al-Qaeda. What kind of communications is he considering having one wonders? "Is the Weather nice in Kabul today?", "Hung any Homosexuals lately?" or maybe they could invite them round for a few illicit beers. Maybe he would like to offer them a borough of London to call their very own.

Stop The Nonsense

Bantams 1 Stags 2

Well what can I say? I pointed out before heading off to the game, that seeing as Mansfield were in the bottom two that we would probably lose. And hey Presto, we did. Apart from Conlon, we were garbage. It was made worse by the group of half wits sat behind me, that blamed big Baz for everything. A set of dickheads as the like I have never seen. And to compound things, guess who needed a whizz just as we scored. That's right the Ikester. So I missed our only goal as Big Baz, apparently, leaped salmon like to nod in his second goal in successive matches. Anyway that's all I have time for at the moment, as I am continuing my binge drinking splurge at the Fleece in Cullingworth with Big Frank, stopping off for a MaccyD's on the way. Life is good.

Pit Stop

Sat here waiting for the boy to pick us up in a cab, so I thought I would check in. My binge drinking session got off to a fine start, me, big JohnnyM and G-Spot getting the weekend off to a very civilised start. I got some mucho spicy Chinese noodles on my way home, and was assaulted by the nastiest bout of indigestion I have ever had at about five o'clock this morning. I chugged a pint of milk, but some chiller sauce must have got stuck on me old clacker, as I sat there with a burning throat. Now that I think about it, there is a super spicy spring roll left in the fridge, so I am off to scarfe it. City are playing one of the worse teams in our league this aft, so we will probably lose, although I hope KingBaz smacks in a hat trick. Come on City!!

Win or lose, we shall booze...............

FA Cup Final Bender...Update

This years FA Cup final is on Saturday the 17th of May. Try and make sure your diary is free, and if you are scheduled to work, that the day is booked off. Location for piss up to follow later. All suggestions taken under consideration.

An Act of Defiance

I am lucky enough to have the whole weekend off for a change, and to celebrate, I aim to indulge a spot of binge drinking. So Fuck You Gordon Brown and your band of namby pamby do gooder pals, and an even bigger Fuck You to the BMA, who I believe I pay for through my national insurance contributions. But the biggest Fuck You, I reserve for a group called Alcohol Concern, a bunch of busy body arseholes, who would love nothing better than to dictate to a hard working stiff like myself, on how to run my life. These are the clowns who called for an across the board 10% rise in the price of booze, to cut "alcohol-related mortality by up to 37%." You may have seen the self satisfied chairman, or whatever he was, gobbing off on the news prior to the budget about how we all are unable to decide for ourselves what is good for us, and that the demon drink should be taxed into oblivion. Where is a Skunk crazed chav when you need him? I don't often condone violence, but God I wanted to kick this prick right in his sanctimonious trousers. If there was ever a fella in need of a night on the lash, he was it. Starting the 7th of April, they are even having an alcohol awareness week. In honour of this week, I wholeheartedly intend to try and drink my self daft every day. If you think I am exaggerating, visit the website here. You couldn't make this shit up. So starting tomorrow night, a few of us are to get together to stick it to "the man", and drink enough beer, that the tax on it will feed and keep a chav family of eight for a week. I am sure if we put our heads together we can come up with a national binge drinking day. Hang on a minute, I think there already is one. I think its called St Patricks Day.

Money Down the Toilet

One of the key components of Wednesdays budget speech, was the aim of eradicating child poverty by the year 2010 in the UK. This sounded a most commendable notion, but I then got to thinking "Why are there so many kids living in so called poverty?" The criteria for being classed as below the poverty line, are kids living in a household that has an income below 60% of the national average. Now I have no doubt there are many families out there holding down jobs, and trying to do the best for their offspring, and I believe every every effort should be made to assist these people. But what about them that don't work? My next door neighbour is a fine example. Doesn't work, drinks White Lightning like its water while his partner takes herself of into town every other day returning with bags full of designer clothing. Yet the four kids they are in care of are barley seen in anything other than their school uniform. It has to be said their uniforms are pretty clean, but that could be down to the fact they are hardly ever at school. Then there is my little lads mate next door. A great kid, who is lucky enough to have an uncle and aunt to care for him, as his smack head mother is only good for churning out kids she can't look after, at the last count eight. So how is throwing piles of money at these kind of people going to stop kids like these falling below the poverty threshold? It isn't, in fact if anything, granting irresponsible people more money in child benefit payments, will surely encourage the feckless to produce yet more kids they are incapable of looking after. From misguided teenagers on council estates who consider babies nothing more than a fashion accessory, to workshy layabouts, to whom a litter of bambinos represents nothing more than a free ride, the money would surely be better spent taking the majority of these unlucky sprites into some form of care. Perhaps we would then see a fall in the numbers of feral kids who callously murder and maim innocent passer byes, on what now seems to be a weekly basis.

Stop The Nonsense

Can Someone Explain?

Today was budget day, and when I have more time tomorrow, I will delve into it deeper, but I have one immediate question. They have stuck above inflation tax hikes on all alcohols, in a bid they say to curb binge drinking. I think we are all agreed that most heavy duty binge drinking is done by young shiftless layabouts, who bang out kids for fun, then expect us, the taxpayer, to stump up for them. So if you wish to make booze to expensive for these little toe rags, why have they increased child benefit? Are they as misguided to think the track suit wearing underclass actually use this state handout to look after their kids? How else do they think they can afford to roam round in expensive sporting gear, puffing on cigs whilst sharing round a two litre bottle of White Lightning? It beggars belief as to how out of touch these jokers really are.

Stop The Fucking Nonsense........Please!!!

King Baz Strikes Winner

Big Baz showed his backbone is made of steel, after he came back from sub par performance against the Daggers a couple of weeks ago to score the winner against Chester. So fuck all you Baz bashers who post all week on the T&A website about what a waste of space he is. These knobheads need a wake up call as to which division we are playing in, and although the Bazmeister will never worry the Premier League, lets be honest neither will we. I am sick of these moaning twats week in week out praising the big effort, low on talent Colbeck, yet riding our big centre forward, and Omar Daley, like the ills and position of our club was solely down to them. Yes, if we are to eventually move up the leagues we will have to say good bye to the likes of Conlon, but while he's here get off his fucking back.

Dead Eye Injury Mars Euro Victory

The Euro Elite took the shirt lifting JMF down by six goals last night, although a late injury to Dead Eye took a bit of shine of the result. It made no difference to the final score, we were already five up when he went down under a JohnnyM challenge, but we still wish him a speedy recovery. The game itself was pretty one sided throughout, the MoFo stunk. Funky was in full headless chicken mode, and I would personally like to thank King Dave for the sweet pass across his own goal line to present me with the easiest of goals. Lefty was a late replacement for the Shoutster, and his winning run continues, he scored a marvellous effort past Dead Eye. To be frank, if the MoFo don't raise their performance soon, we shall have to start looking for a worthy challenge.

Line-ups;

JMF- Jamon, King Dave, Funky, Dead Eye and The Villian

EURO E- JohnnyMedia, Lefty, Clogs, Euro Bri and Young gaz

2008 Season

• JMF wins -3



• Euro Elite - 7



• Draws - 0

Patty Knevil

After last nights posting, concerning the Westgate Run of Wakefield challenge, I received a text message from squad member Patty. It would seem dodging former coal miners tanked up on alcopops wasn't daring enough for the Patmeiester. His suggestion for our next away trip is the daddy of all runs, the Pamplona Bull Run. Safety wear is not required, nor even mentioned in any of the rules and regulations, which to be honest, all seem to favour the bull. It is to late to even contemplate The young daredevil forgets that quite a few of us have passed the 40 year old milestone, and breaking into a brisk trot for a few of our members, would result in the need for de-fibrillation, but it has got my interest. I have faced down the Elster after staying out all weekend, and reckon I would be up to the challenge. Reading the info on the link I have supplied, it would take some organising, but in this day and age of rampant Health and Safety regulations, it could be quite a hoot. I like the fact that high visibility is not allowed. It is too late for it this year, and the problem I will face in the future, is that it falls on the Elsters birthday, but if someone else were to assist in getting it up and running, I am up for it. There is an English website that describes the run in full, and advises on the run itself and will also book accommodation, click here for the Pamplona Posse.



If this seems a bit to hair-raising (chance would be a fine thing in my case), there is the more sedate, but equally fun, La Tomatina tomato fight in Buñol near Valencia. This, as far as I can make out involves a few lorries full of tomato's pulling up in a town square, and the mother of all food fights then commencing. Happen not as dangerous, but I have yet to hear of anybody ever being gored to death by a tomato. These are just a couple of options for 2009, which will also include at least one pilgrimage to see the mighty TSV 1860 in Germany.



P.S.
The Westgate Run is all systems go for when i return from the USA. I knew I could rely on the Right Honourable. There are a few of us out for the Mansfield game on Saturday, a mini bender if you will, so if you haven't got anything lined up, get your arse out.

A Challenge

Bender Squad members, we have been challenged to undertake a drinking session in Wakefiled by a not so young rapscallion from Castleford, known as Jonesey. He reckons we will be unable to complete something known locally as the Westgate Run. It involves taking in an alcoholic beverages in around 20 pubs, all in a 500 yard stretch. I think it might be worth replacing this years pirate challenge (not the same without able seaman Dangerous Pete), sometime through the summer. It would be nice to put this erstwhile coal miner in his place.

FA Cup

I thought I would stick my two pennies worth in about the FA Cup, before all the supposed commentators start carping on about what a poor final it will be this year, because there are no "big" teams left in it. I say "good", I as a supporter of none of the big four, who have won every final since 1995, and contested everyone since 1991, look forward to NOT watching two teams meet each other for the umpteenth time that season, going through all the hyperbole concerning their greatness, to then watch a snorefest decided by either penalties or a solitary goal in injury time. When another team does manage to break the monopoly, they then show up determined not be humiliated, the result a one sided snorefest decide by a solitary goal in normal time. I know the West Ham-Liverpool game a couple of years back was a corking game, but it was definitely the exception to the rule. This year we can look forward to a real team, supported by real fans, who the result will be a probable once in a lifetime outing that will go down in that city/towns history. I would love to see a West Brom v Barnsley final, as that would really get up the nose of all the part time glory hunters, and would actually feature more than a handful of English players.

P.S.
Isn't Alex Ferguson a bad loser. And don't you just love hearing him whine.

The Week in Nonsense

Step forward, yet again, the ever reliable Labour party, our useless government. As reported in an earlier post, Jaqui Smith, who is becoming something of a rich source, spouted a torrent of nonsense in regards to the now voluntary ID cards. I wouldn't trust this woman with a box of matches, never mind all my personal details, including fingerprints and bio metrics. Not to be outdone in the stupid Labour woman stakes is one Margaret Hodge, Minister for Culture, complaining that the proms appeal to a too inclusive audience. So does Crufts, the dog show, but no one complains about this. Maybe we can get a feline equality commission together, at the tax payers expense of course, to work out how it can become more inclusive for cats. I wish that's all I had to do all day, sit around and think up bullshit. I mean the proms, who really gives a fuck?? House prices falling, the American credit crunch, war in Iraq and Afghanistan, and she's concerned that there aren't enough black and brown faces at some musical festival where fat ugly inbreds go to wave flags. And what is all this crap concerning Prince Harry? Fair play to the guy, he joins the army, and wants to go off and shoot folk. Does it really warrant endless hours of TV footage and acres of newspaper pages? Like fuck it does. This weeks waste of money may not be on an epic scale, as were the previous two weeks, but is worth pointing out, as it is a local issue to me. £8,600,000 is to be spent on electric road signs on the M62 to improve traffic with information for motorists. This will no doubt point out to us stupid plebs things like," slow down rain" or "take a break, tiredness kills". Even better, as you are sat motionless in yet another jam, "Beware, Stationary Traffic". Lastly, just to prove that stupidity is contagious, one religious leader, a Canon Tony Shepherd of St Peter's Church in Harrogate, has proposed that churches turn down Lottery grant money for upgrades and renovation, as it sends out the message that the church is giving it's blessing to gambling. Why don't they just tax the shit out of beer instead? Would that make him happy? My big fear, is that come Wednesday, he will more than likely get his wish.

Stop The Nonsense

Champagne and Cigars

You would think I'd learn, but Friday night turned into Saturday morning, and I stumbled through the door after 3a.m., with work only five hours away. It was great to see the Gster, Mallcy and Maffy again, and thankfully El Grande Queso went home at a sensible hour, thus avoiding the casino. We put the world to rights, and my campaign to get the Right Honourable Shouty elected to Parliament now has garnered a few more supporters. Normal service is resumed next week. If you get to a PC, we didn't win the lotto G-Spot, so unfortunately you will have to come home.

Friday Change

in honour of a new addition, tonight's Friday flyer will be taking place in Bingley town, instead of the Upper George. Mallcy finally mustered up enough swimmers to get their lass in the family way, the result was born late last week, a bouncing baby boy. So as is tradition round these parts, it's off to wet the babies head. Get in there Malcolm...

Why Won't They Let it Lie??

ID cards. Why? Why? Why can't they just give them up? Are their ego's that large? Do they think we are that stupid? Ms Smith, the home secretary, thinks that if our details are saved in different places they will be more secure. How? Will this not just mean there are more places for our details to go missing from? They will be compulsory for foreign nationals from outside the U.K. Does this mean all the illegal one's that the card is supposed to protect against, will be lining up to give themselves up? I can see the market for fake cards doing a brisk business, and it is just what our over burdened police force needs, more paper work to fill out for stop and searches. Security sensitive employees, such as airport staff, will also be forced to carry one. Why? The lack of airplanes exploding in mid-air indicates to me that the current procedures appear to be working rather well. She even dug out the old chestnut about it protecting us from rabid terrorists. The Madrid train bombers were all in possession of valid Spanish ID cards, and the London tube bombers would have all been entitled to any identity card that the government would have introduced as well. So will someone please explain to me how it will help curb this supposedly immanent threat? Then there is the cost. Ms Smith says the new measures will cut a billion pounds off the original pricing for such a scheme, but did not then mention what it would cost, or how it will be paid for, and how much we will be charged for carrying this stupid little card. No one, she says, will be forced to have one, so when no one stumps up any moola for it what will she do? Lastly, in the next year or so, a voluntary scheme for all students is to be rolled out. Hopefully when the take up is so pitifully low they will finally drive a stake through the ID databases heart. Even better though, by the time their timetable for a national roll out comes around, they will all be down the DHSS, dodging the chav underclass like the rest of us.

Stop The Nonsense

Old School Dust Up

A glut of injuries saw the return of two retired legends down the Wood, as Dr Shotgun replaced Young Gaz, and good old Two Scoops returned for a lame Dead Eye. The game was actually a pretty good laugh for a change, Jamon and the good Doctor picking up their old sledging almost immediately, and the Funky M and big JohnnyMedia also giving each other the big I am. Clogs picked up the scoring plaudits, but Shotgun was magnificent between the sticks, and buried the two clear chances he was presented with. A special mention goes to King Dave, who bravely hobbled through the game to make sure it was an actual five a side game. Two Scoops has ridden off into the sunset for good, so he says, and he scored a dribbler from the halfway line as a curtain call. Hopefully next week the teams will be back to usual, as getting two fairly even sides this week was a nightmare. Oh yes, I nearly forgot, the limp wristed arse bandits of the JMF were crushed 15-8.

Line-ups;

JMF- Jamon, King Dave, Funky, Two Scoops and the Mercenary

EURO E- JohnnyMedia, Shouty, Clogs, Euro Bri and Dr Shotgun

2008 Season

• JMF wins -3



• Euro Elite - 6



• Draws - 0

I Miss....

Proper cop shows. Stuff like the Sweeny and Starsky and Hutch, when after bringing the bad guy to justice, they got pissed and pulled birds. I know Life on Mars and the current series Ashes to Ashes feature Gene Hunt, a bit of a throwback copper from the 70/80's, but let's be honest. It sucks. A one trick pony that was stretched by the time of the second series of Life on Mars. At least it is more entertaining than the drivel served up on the differing CSI shows. On first viewing these seem good shows, the acting, special effects, soundtrack and settings are all first rate. But after watching three or four episodes, it all starts to become a bit distasteful. Why do all the crimes have to be so salacious? If it is not some brutal sex killing, almost always involving some extremely good looking woman, or even worse a child murder. We get the moody looks, a few SFX of either the bullet trajectory or blood splatter from a knife wound, a red herring and then they catch the guy. The perpetrator then confesses straight away. End of show. And repeat. All set to a Who soundtrack. Marginally preferable to Greys Anatomy is what I reckon. The English cop shows are even worse. The Bill is staffed by ex-Eastenders, and the dross that's put out by the BBC is an affront to tax, sorry, license payers. My advice? Stick yo the ITV digital channels, home to the Sweeny, the Proffesionals and Jim Rockford, proper shows, with proper theme tunes and bad guys.

The Week in Nonsense

Step forward Barnsley council, who are pushing to outlaw smoking outside pubs and restaurants. One of the councillors claimed in good weather, if he wished to eat or drink outside, smokers would pollute the area with smoke, in breach of the new smoking laws. My suggestion to the sane people of Barnsley, is to find this knobheads favourite pub/restaurant, fill up on beans, curry and Guinness, and then sit as close as possible to where he sits. The resulting fart-fest would hopefully gag him out, and make him wish he were smelling tobacco smoke instead. This is yet another example of how stupid laws spiral out of control. Little Stalins, like these fuckwits will only facilitate the demise of the unique British pub culture. Which brings us nicely onto all the idiots lining up to demand higher taxes on booze. Yet again, people like me and and you are to be punished financially, for the moronic few. The idiots who slam a bottle of spirits before they go out are not going to be deterred, in fact it will only lead to an explosion of booze cruises. One guy, a professor no less, claims supermarkets are "practically giving it away". What nonsense. Enforce the laws to hand if you wish to prevent underage drinking. When I was under 18, getting a pint, or served beer in shops was nigh on impossible, yet it seems 12/13 year olds are today free to but liquor with impunity. Enough already. But maybe we need to tax hardworking folk a bit more to pay for the ever increasing under class who think state subsidy's are a valid career choice. A fine example is the little scumbag on Tyneside, who at the grand old age of 21, has sired his seventh child, all to different slappers. And because the little sperm bank doesn't work, guess who is footing the bill? You and I, that's who. Don't be fooled into thinking this is a one off. At my kids school, there is a couple, who have four kids, only one is his, the rest have their own dad. Each. Anyway, not only do they see fit not to bother themselves with gainful employment, they can't even be arsed to raise themselves from bed in the morning to take their kids to school. Are they dragged to court? Are social workers called in to evaluate the problem? No, a teacher has to walk down and get them in a morning. Unbelievable. This ties in neatly to this weeks colossal waste of money story. £900,000,000 pounds has been spent to cut the amount of teenage truancy in this country over the last few years. Can you guess what the outcome of spending this vast amount of cash was? The rate actually went up 10%. How can you spend that kind of money on truancy? What on earth was it spent on? The mind truly boggles.

STOP THE NONSENSE

Bantams 0 Daggers 2

After Tuesday nights performance of the season, we expected to stroll to victory against the lowly Dagenham & Redbridge. It also seemed the players did as well, in what can only be described as a woeful effort. Half the team, Thorne in particular, looked totally uninterested, and the ones who did, such as Colbeck, lacked the wit and wherewithal to prevent a below average team from bagging all the points. The game was dreadful.

Baz Watch;

When our erstwhile front man is off his game, he truly stinks the place out, and for the 20 or so minutes he played, he reeked. A missed penalty, followed up by a missed sitter, knocked the Bazmeister's usually decent hold up game out of whack, he couldn't trap cement on this performance, but the people slagging him off after the game seemed to forget the rest of the team stunk the joint out as well.

There is no pie rating this week, as our appointed guest reviewer was on the lash till gone 6 a.m., and couldn't face a Bovril.

JMF Hang On

The walking wounded of the Gaylord JMF held out just long enough to prevail by two, and cut the seasons deficit to two games. Myself and Shouty were away with the fairies after the previous nights exploits, and I myself proved tetchy beyond belief when the shirt lifters kicked in with their usual gay whining about everything that didn't go their way. It is getting rather tedious. But credit where it is due. With King Dave and Dead Eye both pulling up lame, and the Euro E piling on the pressure, they held out, Dead Eye pulling of several outstanding saves, and man of the match Luklear defending brilliantly. C'est la vie. There will be no whiskey filled antics to save them next week.

Line-ups;

JMF- Jamon, King Dave, Funky, Luklear War and Dead Eye

EURO E- JohnnyMedia, Shouty, Clogs, Euro Bri and Young Gaz

2008 Season

• JMF wins -3



• Euro Elite - 5



• Draws - 0

Tuesday Night Tomfoolery

What do you get if you cross myself, the Boy Dazzler, El Grande Queso, the Shoutster and several post match pints? Buffoonery, that's what. After watching the Bantams dispose of Rotherham, we strolled into town to sink a few post match pints at the City Vaults. The good ideas at the time syndrome started almost immediately, when to warm us up after our chilly walk, we chased down the first pints with a test tube of Jagermeister. Half a gallon of lager later, Stevie mentioned the Casino for a night cap, and we all agreed, as long as no one bought any Tequila. Alas, on arrival at the Gala casino, Dazzler noticed Bullet bourbon, and things began to get slightly messy. Several whiskey late, including a Johnny Walker Gold, £6.90 a pop, we hit the tables. El Queso had no luck on the roulette, but I was making decent headway at Black jack when disaster struck for the Boy. Sat watching the games unfold, some fuckwit jumped from his seat, and knocked the Boys drink flying. He then sat there, no apology, gormless look on face, and then unbelievably, refused point blank to go and buy another one. Well in my books this is one of the biggest sins a fella can commit, and I gave him a piece of my mind big time. As he sat there, cowering under the torrent of obscenity filled abuse I heaped upon his worthless carcass, his bint decided to chime in with her two pence worth. Unlucky for her, I had held back some of my choicest swear words, and decided to giver this stupid old slapper the benefit of my expansive catalogue of swear words that relate to the milder sex. The clumsy fuckwit who had caused all the commotion in the first place, took this opportunity to leg it, and his stupid cum bucket bitch, decided to complain to the management. But Stevie was losing to much brass for us to be shown the door, so she went off in a huff, as I calmed down to carry on with the cards. The next major talking point, at around half one I think was the earthquake. I must admit, I felt nowt, I thought Dazzlers swaying was down to the bourbon. Everything went along fairly smoothly till, about four, when Dazzlers drunkenness proved to much for the staff. He wasn't causing any harm as such, but he was getting louder and not playing any of the tables, so he was shown the door. I went to round up the troops to go with him, but by the time we made the entrance, he was gone, on his way home in a cab. Stevie wouldn't hear of going home, and announced we were to go back in to take the house down. Inside we met a geezer called Kevin, and bolstered with yet more whiskey, we went for the kill. Stevie finally admitted defeat at around five thirty, and we left for good, properly pissed by now. I have no idea how much Shouty and Steve won or lost, but the fact neither had a shirt on their back, didn't bode well. I broke a personal duck though, and managed to leave £50 up, a first on these shores. The next problem to surmount though was one we hadn't planned on. At 5:45 Wednesday a.m. in Bradford city centre, there ain't much call for taxi's, so we were stood around freezing our knackers off wondering how to get home. At this point Stevie and Shouty thought spit roasting a statue would be the answer(see right). I on the other hand, and with a moment of lucidity realising work was a mere two hours hence, decided to ring Girlington cabs, which proved more fruitful than humping an inanimate object. The next morning I awoke at 10:30 a.m., a massive two and a half hours late for work, stinking of booze. Dazzler somehow made to Leeds, as did Shouty. The problem for the Right Honourable was the small matter that he works in Bradford. Numb nuts had got on the wrong train. Queso, who professes to be a captain of industry, didn't have no gaffer to answer to, so stayed in bed. He did however awaken to find himself covered in stickers with the words "You are a wanker" written on them. He had rung his missus on the way home, saying he was late because of the earthquake, and when told to stop talking nonsense, told the truth as he stood there a pleased as punch. He isn't allowed out with me now for three months. And what of the Elsters reaction? I opened the door to try and sneak upstairs, only to be felled by the sleeping dog, which made a right racket. She was not impressed in the slightest, and when I pointed out to her that she liked it when Tony Soprano does it, I was informed in no certain terms that I was NOT the fictional New Jersey mob boss. Safe to say for me and the Shoutster, it wasn't the most fun filled of days, but everything comes at a price, and it was worth it. As a footnote, on my way to football later that day, I drove past the Boy Dazzler out on the lash again. Legend.

Bantams 3 Millers 2

I know the game was a couple of nights ago, see the buffoon report above as to why it's late, and the boys in claret and amber were well worth their win. The first half saw all of City's goals, and they played the best footie I have seen down the Valley this season. Omar scored a fine opener, showing a clean pair of heels to the defence, before cutting inside to bury it in the bottom corner. Within two minutes, Colbeck crossed low and Rhodes pounced to make it 2-0. The Millers nearly pulled one back straight away, hitting the post, and halved the deficit not much after. With half time approaching, I took off to get the beers in and missed our third, scored by Bullock. I reckon I have missed as many as I have seen lately. The second half was good value entertainment, and Peter Thorne missed possibly the biggest sitter that I have ever witnessed. From where we sit, it looked like he scooped over off the goal line. To rub it in Rotherham scored not long after, to make it the usual clenched arse finish that we are becoming used to down the Parade. There was good news prior to the match as well, concerning the next season ticket. They are being put up at £150, with a free on for under 11's, and if there are more than 9,000 adult takers, we will receive an extra full season ticket for free. This could feasibly result in crowds of 20,000 plus next year. Happy days indeed.

Baz Watch;
Our smooth headed bundle of pure testosterone was not called on till the last minute. He made one forward burst, and that was pretty much that. Thorne and Daley looked good up front, and Willy was the first preference when McCall made his substitution. I fear his playing time may be getting harder to come by.




Pie Rating; Sausage Roll 5/10
We have another guest reviewer this week. I know I promised a second opinion on the Chicken Balti, but there is good reason why I didn't. The first bite I took revealed a filling of molten lava, which burnt my tongue, and caused me to lurch unexpectedly forward, desperately trying to extinguish the atomic reaction taking place in my mouth. This caused a lump of chicken to spill forth from my booby trapped savoury and splatter on the floor. Little did I realise at that moment, that this piece of poultry, now decorating the concourse floor, would render my Chicken Balti pie, a mere Balti pie, because the rest of it carried no trace of any meat. So it was left to the Grande Queso to give his verdict on the sausage roll. You can tell Mr Queso hadn't been to watch many games this season, as he gave me £1.50 to buy it for him as I was at the front of the queue. Or was it a cunning plan? Anyway, it was fairly long, and started out as a 7/10, but the blandness caused this score to fall to 3/10 by the time it was finished, to garnish a final an average rating of 5/10. Next time Shouty will rate the Bovril.

Last Gasper Sinks TSV

The dream is over. Bayerns Franck Riberry slotted a no doubt dubious penalty in the last minute of extra time, to down the brave boys in blue. Wankers. With them currently lying in seventh in the league, the season hangs in the balance. There is also no news on the Monchengladbach times and date. But it is not all bad news. Inspired by young Crespo, I too scoured ebay in search of Der Lowen attire. They still had his super groovy Nike away shirt, in XL, but I fancied something different. Then I saw it. But with it being Friday night I was pissed, and after trying to navigate the payment section on ebay for about an hour, I gave up. After sobering up the next day, and being of soundish mind, I tried again and was successful. It arrived today, and can be seen below:



Aren't I the bobby dazzler? It is a Toffs retro shirt from the 1960's, it cost £12.99, and for your information Crespo, it is sized as medium. So there.

I Miss....

City are at home tomorrow night, so a day earlier than usual, this weeks I Miss strand. Seeing as I have football on the mind, this week I am focusing on what I miss about footie. Yes the Premier League has brought glamour and money to the English top flight, but lets face it, unless you are a die hard glory hunter, it is getting pretty dull. Apart from a single Rovers victory, the trophy has been won by just three team, and apart from Liverpool, and perhaps Spurs, it doesn't look likely there will be another team to reach the pinnacle. Gone are the days when a maverick like Cloughie could drag a team up one season and win it all the next. Believe it or not, it ain't that long since the likes of Leeds United, Everton, Villa and even Derby County could claim to be champions of England. Now the closest competition seems to be if Liverpool can blow fourth place, and even that doesn't happen too often. And whats fourth place all about anyway? What a great achievement, something to really strive for, fourth place. No wonder this country sucks at sports. Then we have the players. Poncy, soft drinking prima donnas, who collapse as if shot at the slightest touch. Yes Ronaldo is a fantastic player, but I would have loved to have seen him try his multiple step overs against the Leeds United team of the early seventies. He'd be fetching his left leg from the pie stand at the back of the Kop. Then there is the head to head malarkey, both players trying to be hard, usually followed by a slap, and one of them writhing on the floor as if punched by Tyson in his prime. For you young fellas who don't know better, this is how they used to do it. Of course today, the papers would claim it was the end of civilisation, and the police would get involved, resulting in the players involved being sent for anger management classes. When the little flowers manage to stay on their feet long enough to score, we are then subjected to either fatuous kissing of the badge by a player on his 42nd team, or even worse, some cheesy choreographed set piece celebration, probably thought up whilst spit roasting some slapper in a posh hotel. Yet again, for those born in the eighties or after, an example of how it was done when it meant something to score and play for your country. Click here, for Marco Tardelli's 1982 World Cup final goal. Brilliant. Moving on to the clubs themselves, or should I say business's, that treat fans like consumers, and attempt to rinse out every sovereign they can. Bad enough that the majority now play in out of town retail parks, in soulless bunkers bereft of atmosphere, they then employ over eager stewards, all to ready to throw their weight around at slightest whiff of spontaneity, supporters are expected to cough up silly money for ever changing strips. The golden goose hasn't been killed yet, but at this rate who will care about football? Watch any game outside the bigger clubs, and you will see half empty stadiums, and kids walking around towns like Bradford wearing Chelsea shirts, instead of following the local teams. Sitting in front of the telly cheering on a team you will never see in the flesh, to me, defeats the object totally. We are bombarded by the winning is everything ethos, which is nonsense. Having a pint with the lads, and taking your kids down to the game on Saturday, for the crack, is what it's all about, and anybody who tells you different is talking out of their arse.

The Week in Nonsense

The current government has been a rich source of nonsense since they wrestled power away from the equally nonsensical Tories back in1997, and this week proved no different from the rest. Step forward Alan Johnson, Health minister, whose idea to combat sick note culture was to introduce something called a well note. He should really think these things out before he speaks. I would pass some kind of comment, but just the two words really do all the talking for themselves. Well note. Indeed. Not to be out done, Jack Straw has requested magistrates stop sending criminals to jail, because they are full. A brilliant idea...if you happen to be a burglar or mugger. Hell, I might even take it up myself. Enough of New Labour, for the moment anyway, and lets see what the health fascists have been up too.The BMA, who have condemned binge drink culture, and lobbied for higher booze taxes, have only gone and applied for a late license at its London HQ. It also appears there have been many complaints about drunken antics outside the building ranging from urinating in gardens to horseplay on nearby scaffolding. Tescos have also decided to jump on the booze band wagon, by demanding the government ban cut price alcohol, whilst at the same time refusing to cut its own prices. I suppose a £2 billion pound annual profit isn't enough for the evil empire. In Europe, UKIP leader Nigel Farrage has been caught out paying family members, out of publicly funded expenses, including £24,000 a year to his wife, for secretarial work, and God knows how much to his 19 year old son, who is a full time student. Chooo chooo. All aboard the gravy train...On the subject of wasting OUR money is this little gem. The King of Nonsense, Mr Tony Blair, announced he wanted at least 50% of young people to gain a degree within 5 years. The only problem was the amount of students dropping out. So over the last five years, according to Parliamentary report released last week, £800 million had been spent on trying to reduce this rate. Can you guess what happened?? That's right, the figures have not budged. The same amount of people are dropping out, as did in 2002. I have no idea what this vast amount of cash was spent on, perhaps a few trips to Australia or the Carribean to see how things work there, maybe a Bugatti Veyron or two to whisk focus groups around universities to brainstorm, who can tell, but it may as well have been used as bog roll for all the difference it has made.

STOP THE NONSENSE!!

Skint

Well I should be out on the tiles in Nottingham at this moment in time, but fate has dictated that instead I am sat in front of my PC, killing time. Pay day is Tuesday, and my pockets are currently empty, a situation shared with the Shoutster and Crespo, which put paid to our plans to watch the Mighty Bantams take on Notts County. And to top it all they won 3-1. So instead of football, beer and Hooters, I am sat hoping my lottery numbers come up. C'est la vie. On bright spot is that when I do get paid on Tuesday, City play host to Rotherham. Crespo can't make it, so El Grande Queso is making a rare mid week p.a., so I will be more than likely working with a hangover on Wednesday. I am keeping away from the Tequila though, and as far as I know it isn't anybodies birthday, so I shouldn't be puking in any parks the next day, as was the case last night game. TSV played on Friday and drew 0-0 with Koln. They have dropped to sixth in the table, but have not lost touch. Elster has just come in and given me a gob full. Apparently after being on the lash with G-Spot last night, I came home and jumped into bed kicking the Elster out in the process, and then refusing to budge. I have no recollection of this, so it must have been a pretty good night.

Wish I Had Thought of This

For some unknown reason, the local coucil have started up a billboard campaign, showing a cross section of Bradfordians (a black priest, disabled person, female councillar, etc.) in some bizarre attempt to reflect the diversity in the communtiy. What a fantastic use of tax payers money. So I had to laugh when I saw this pastiche posted on the facebook group, Bradfords Jesus Man, an apprectiation of Bradfords most recognisable citizen, the walking monk. Really wish I had thought of this...

Crespo Dazzler

Not to be out done by my bonny TSV Havana cap, the boy Crespo has been surfing ebay, looking for a shirt. The current Kappa kit isn't much to any of our liking, and it has taken him a couple of months to find this shirt, we don't know from which season, and it is an away kit, but it is pretty damn cool all the same. He said he had got the last medium sized one, and then looked at me, and said not to worry, there were plenty of extra large ones left. The cheeky scamp. Its not my fault white makes me look big. On a less upbeat note, the Right Honourable Shoutster has mislaid his wristband, and is considering ordering a new one. The numb nuts. Anyhow, he is thinking of ordering a new one from the official website, so I might split the shipping with him, and pick up some new gear as well, after all there is a sale on. Anyway for the ladies, this is Crespo showing off his new acquisition.

Lefty Lashes Late Winner

After last nights game down the Wood, careful consideration should be given to changing Leftys to Lucky, after he continued his unbeaten run. The game was a close run affair all night, neither team could make the decisive break to claim victory. The early front running was done by the JMF, who at the quarter hour mark had opened a five goal lead, the largest of the evening, but a lacklustre performance in nets by Crespo saw things all square in no time. Our lanky friend mad amends with a torrent of goals, but he was matched goal for goal by the mighty Clogs, who put in a majestic performance. As the seconds counted down, the game became cagey, the Mercenary pulling off a string of excellent saves, whilst Crespo held up the rearguard for the gaylord MoFo. But as the draw seemed the likely outcome, Crespo released Lefty Van Nistleroy, who took his time to slot an undeserved winner past the gallant Mercenary. Oh well, the sun shines on every rent boys arse now and again.

Line-ups;

JMF- Jamon, Crespo, Lefty, Luklear War and Dead Eye

EURO E- JohnnyMedia, Shouty, Clogs, Euro Bri and The Mercenary

2008 Season

• JMF wins -2



• Euro Elite - 5



• Draws - 0

I Miss....

Hello folks. With McEuro on a current sabbatical, I needed to think up a thread to replace it's old Tuesday evening slot. Late last year I turned 40, an age where you have not yet turned into a grumpy old curmudgeon, who harps on for hours about how great everything was back in the day, and how everything now is shite by comparison. Alternatively, I am no longer a young gad about town, convinced that everything new and shiny is the dogs bolloxs, and makes all that has gone before it, rancid spud water. Yet there are things I find myself wishing were still around. A lot of it may well be the mid life longings of a fella slightly past his sell by date, but I think in most cases I have a pretty good point, when I waffle on about things that ain't what they were....

This week I miss....Proper old school porn. You know what I mean. The stuff you used to find under your old mans bed, or stuffed down the back of the Chester drawers in an unmarked video case. Even better, the magazine some kid nicked off his older brother, and brought on to the school bus for you all to ogle on your way to another boring day in the classroom. Playboy, Penthouse, Mayfair, Men Only, Razzle....the mere mention these names bring on a semi. The English magazines were always my favourites. They weren't quite as polished as their US counterparts, the birds were always little bit plumper for starters, but I always liked it that way, plus the readers letters were more believable. I really liked the cartoon in Mayfair, where some buxom chick, whose name eludes me, always ended up in some predicament that ended with her in the buff. Quality. Around about 1980/1, Video players arrived, and a whole new world opened up. My first "bluey", as we liked to call them, featured the Legendary Johnny Holmes, and during school holidays it was around to a mates house, where about ten of us would sit in front of the television, eyes popping out, chins on the deck, hidings our stork ons with a well positioned cushion. As time passes on, we all lose touch with our old buddies, and actually get to sample what we saw on tape for real. Porn, for most of us went bye the bye, until the wonders of the internet came along, and my how things had changed. Once a couple of pictures of a naked bird proudly posing in the all together was all that was showed. Now they strike poses that you can practically see what they had for lunch. Three days ago! Long gone are the pert buxom ladies of my youth, replaced by hyper inflated bimbos, that somehow manage to take super large penis's up every orifice simultaneously. And where has all the pubic hair gone? I don't mean big bushy afro style pussies, but a little bit of curly hair wouldn't go amiss. Those ginormous, silicon enhanced boobies. I am surprised the geezer giving it to them doesn't require goggles, cause it looks like they could have someone's eye out with the valves that have replaced nipples. And while we are on the subject of the geezers, where have all the moustaches gone? There also used to be some attempt at a storyline as well, which was great, if for nothing else, to laugh at the hapless acting, or Dutch accents, before they got it on. Now it's just wham, bam, thank you mam, and on to the next cum bucket. All you guys under thirty are probably wondering what the fuck I am on about, but if you can, download Deep Throat or Debbie does Dallas for a taste of what I am on about. Bushy fannies, real tiities, moustaches, bad acting and corny jokes, plus it was all financed by the Mafia. How much cooler do you want it? Wish I had saved those old jazz mags as well, they might be worth something now. Well if all the pages hadn't been stuck together they might have.

Der Lowen Lose

After the Mighty Bantams lost on Saturday, Der Lowen sucumbed to a 1-0 defeat as well. As if this wasn't bad enough, I have found out our trip to see them play in April maybe could be snookered to boot. On the TSV site it has them playing on the 25th, the same as Bourussia M'Gladbachs website, but the Bundeslia website says there is no definate date, and it could be played on Monday night as we are flying overhead back to Blighty. Bolloxs. The cup game against Bayern isn't on Setanta either, so it could be next season before we clap eyes Der Lowen. Which does give us an excuse to visit Hamburg. There is also a growing swell of opinion that an Oktoberfest pilgrimage should happen in 2009, something I have absolutley no problem with. It is also looking doubtful that we are going to the Notts County game this weekend as well, Crespo and the Boy have work commitments, and the Right Honourable is saving his cash. I might still take off with the Ikester, but it is only a maybe.

The Week in Nonsense

Apologies for the lateness of this weeks nonsense report, I have been busier than usual. First up is a beauty. You really could not make this one up, in a million fucking years. Some group called Health England, a ministerial advisory board(???????) have proposed that cigarettes can only be sold to people carrying a smoking permit. Have we lifted our chin of the floor yet? Good I will continue. An annual fee of £10, plus the filling of a form, that needs to be signed off by a doctor, are required to gain the permit. But I say "Why stop there?" We could tattoo a woodbine all smokers foreheads, or if this proves to extreme a measure, they could be forced to wear cigarette badges on their clothing. I tell ya, what will these mother fuckers think up next? I have half a mind to take up the weed again myself. The worrying thing is, you just know some joker is thinking it might be a good idea to apply it to alcohol. If that were to ever happen, I am definitely off. Read the full article here. Next up on the "Your having a laugh" news is yet another pearler. As we are all well aware, the British are crap at foreign languages. Why learn Spanish, when shouting loud enough for long enough in anglais always seems to have the desired effect? Well this method doesn't fit nicely on some stat graph, so the government have hatched a cunning plan to make everyone bilingual. When it comes to GCSE time for all our delinquent knife carrying teenagers, they won't have to sit an oral exam to gain a pass in any foreign languages. This proposal has come from The Qualifications and Curriculum Authority (QCA) (??????), who claim it is too stressful for our skunked up student of today. Personally, on the evidence I witness on our streets on a daily basis, I reckon the little blighters are all too fucking thick. On the plus side, if and when this is introduced, I am going to sign up to do several languages, not bother showing up to class, and at exam time, I will stroll up to the examiner, and say in my best English accent "Yes, I can speak French/German/Urdu/Swahili perfectly" and leave proudly clutching my fistful of GCSE's. Innit. This weeks prize for stating the blindingly obvious goes to Hazel Blears, who said "Learning English must be a priority for migrants coming to the UK" No shit, Toots. But with all the benefit forms being in God knows how many different languages, where's the need? "Where is the social?" and "Give me, give me, give me, give me." appear to be the only phrases that are required to gain a house, car, mobile and free health care. Give me a break. Lastly this week, is the news that Labour are to nationalise Northern Rock. Now I am not a customer of this institution, but if these buffoons run a business anything like they are running the country, I would be lining up outside my local branch now to empty my account if I where.

STOP THE NONSENSE!!

Woooo Hoooo!!

I won!! A free flight to any Jet2 destination no less. So people do actually win competetions on the internet, who'd have thunk it. There is one small catch though. The Elster cottoned on th the fact I had won, and has dibs on being my travel companion when I decide where to visit, so no Bender trip this time. BOOOOOOOO!! But what the hey, me, Shouty and the Boy are off toGermany to see TSV in April so it's not all bad news. We have found a cheap and cheerful spot in Cologne near the Cathedral, and will be drinking Kolsh till it comes out of our ears. When i get back from the USA in June, we will have a get together to figure out a plan of attack for our European road trip sometime in September. I fancy an overnight stop in Luxembourg and Innsbruk, whilst El Grande Queso has his heart set on a day or two by the Italian lakes.

Bantams 1 Dale 2

Another last gasp goal put paid to the Bantams yesterday. After giving up an own goal early one to give Dale the lead, we were fortunate in the extreme to reach half time a goal down. Time and again they found space through the middle, and if they had a decent striker the game would have been dead and buried at the interval. Stuart must have given a right rocket during the half time team talk, because they came out firing. Yet again I missed a Peter Thorne goal, the Ikester needing a whizz, yet again. The game was pretty evenly contested over the remainder of the match, the travelling Rochdale support creating a pretty decent atmosphere, I always chuckle at the sheep shagger jibes, but McCall made an odd substitution as we were pressing to take the lead. He took of Thorne and bought on the young loan player Brown, whose diminutive stature was not really what was needed. He ran round like a headless chicken, and when he did get the ball, the bully boy bruisers of the Rochdale defence shoved him of it. With full time up, and the game seconds from the end, some toss pot Dale player strode forward and curled a belter beyond our keeper. These late goals look likely to have scuppered our chances of a play off spot.

Baz Watch;

Came on for last 15 minutes, replacing Willy Topp. Have yet to see these two in tandem. Linked well with Peter Thorne, carving out a nice opportunity for him. Robbed of a one on one chance by the linesman. He put himself about in his usual manner, but when Brown came on for Thorne, we seemed to lose momentum. These two as a partnership just doesn't look promising.

Pie Rating;

It has been a while, hangovers and pastry are not a good mix, but I was in fine fettle this week, and more importantly, starving. When we arrived at the ground, I got Ike his hot dog, and enquired about the pie selection. As I figured last week, they do indeed sell a cheese and onion variety, so I bought one, and stuck some ketchup on it. The pastry was pretty good, but the filling had a helmet cheese texture, and from what the JMF tell me, it tasted pretty similar to the stuff as well. I will definitely not be re-visiting this particular savoury again. I think next time I am not hungover, I will revisit the Chicken Balti offering.

Nonsense Road

I had to go to Gatwick yesterday on business, and what a fucking ball ache it turned out to be. I had to be there for 10:30 a.m. so to save getting up at stupid o'clock, I arranged an overnight stay. I thought if I set off around 8 p.m., miss the traffic and be there in time to blow the head off a couple of pints before retiring for the evening. The old SatNav said 243 miles, and reckoned just under four hours, something I figured I could knock at least an hour and a half off, but then I forgot to factor in all the bullshit nonsense that has been foisted upon this country. I was flying, till I hit some invisible road works a little south of Sheffield. Three lanes of pristine motorway, crystal clear evening, light trafffic and not a workman to be seen for miles. Yet for some unknown reason, there was a fifty mile an hour limit, enforced by an average speed camera. And it went on and on and on. Finally the restrictions were lifted, and off I set, hoping to make up lost time, and things looked rosy for the next fifty miles, till I was struck yet again by the same curse that seemed to go on forever. The major difference with this one, was that it went suddenly down to one lane, which meant, with the M25 only 40-50 miles away, I got to sit stationary in the middle of nowhere for half an hour, as all the knobheads clogged up the bottle neck, by flying down the soon to be closed lane, and trying to muscle in at the last minute. Finally I reached the M25, ready to to burn off the final leg of my journey, only for the SatNav to start bleeping speed camera locations, limiting me to sevnty m.p.h. on an empty road, in the middle of the night. Still the SatNav was still wrong about the journey time. It took half an hour longer. This was nothing to the trip home. Again four hours was the estimated travel time, and off I set at 3 p.m., thinking I could get home in plenty of time for footie. After about five mother fucking miles though, I was stuck on a monitored M25, flashing a 50m.p.h speed limit, for reasons I am unable to comprehend. Five lanes of motorway, crawling along at twenty miles under the speed limit, with no roadworks or crashes or reason. After a seemingley endless passage of time on the M25, I got to park up and watch the stationary road diggers and workman on th M1, that were supposedley working, to grant me the chance to sit there and wonder what the holy fuck I was doing sitting still on road, for the reason of their supposed work. At least I got to laugh at the average speed cameras, set too 50 m.p.h., as I crawled past at the giddy speed of five miles per hour. This went on for 15 miles. Once cleared, I then had to put up with the morons who stick on the cruise contol, and drive along the middle and outer lane refusing to budge. Then there was the people who slam on for no reason. And why do people whack on fog lights in the slightest of mists? I could continue to catalouge the stupid drivers, and pointless road works for the next three hours, but I think you may well have got the point by now. I arrived home at 8:30 p.m., five and a half hours after setting off. Un- fucking-beleivable.

Shoutydinho!

I was stuck somwhere near Derby. Crespo says we won by 4 or 5, and the Right Honourable Shoutster stole the show.

Line-ups;

JMF- Jamon, Funky Pedestrian, King Dave, Luklear War and Dead Eye

EURO E- JohnnyMedia, Shouty, Crespo, Young Gaz and The Mercenary

2008 Season

• JMF wins -1



• Euro Elite - 5



• Draws - 0

Pretty Vacant

Another Bender Squad member passes 40, and I have just about recovered from the festivities. We kicked off round Bradford city centre around lunchtime, and after a few more sherberts after the match, it was off to Guiseppes Back Yard, for meatballs, pizza, garlic bread and Peroni's. After being politly told to keep the noise down in the Hare and Hounds, we staggered off to the Prune Park Inn, where all the bar staff laughed at Shouty for his performance the previous weekend. At last orders, Tony Helmet invited us back to his gaff, for a vodka binge, to finish off his 40th birthday celebrations. I finally manged to dodge Crespo and Shouty to finally leave around five thirty in the morning, heading to my parents house just up the road, because I had spent all my dosh, and couldn't afford to get home. I surfaced around three o'clock the next afternoon, emerging from a cloud of garlicy beer farts, to settle on the sofa for the duration. Of course the day went by in double quick time, and before you could say "I am to old for this shit", it was 7:45 Monday morning and time for work. Bolloxs.

Bantams 1 Shakers 2

Oh dear. After a decent start to 2008, and with hopes high against a lowly Bury team, we blew a one nil half time lead to lose 2-1. Even during the first half, we seemed out of sorts, although Peter Thorne scored a glancing header from an excellent Penford cross. But up until the interval, Bury looked limp. Heaven knows what their manger said at half time, but they were a different side the second half. The linesman flagged for one of the worst offside decisions I have ever seen, I think it was Starosta, looked clean through, and then minutes later gave, what looked to me anyway, a pretty soft penalty to set up Bury's equaliser. The rest of the game was pretty turgid stuff, and as it seemed the game would drift towards a draw, I went for a lag, and heard the Bury faithful go mental as the secured their first win in three months. Typical City. The result fucked up me and Crespos accumulator big time as well.

Baz Watch;

Played last twelve minutes. Performed like the rest of the lads, below par. Apart from a dazzling display of control and vision to set up Bullock (who missed badly), the Bazmeister failed to raise the team. Had a good chance to head in in from close-ish range, but being Baz failed to hit the target. It was quite amusing to see our fabled hit man team up with young Brown, who looks about the size of one of Conlon's sperm.

Still off the pies, rumour has it that they have a cheese and onion flavour that has alluded me up till now. I will investigate next weekend, when we play host to the Dale.

Cardiac Kids Strike Again

Yet again, Der Lowen came from behind to secure a late victory. Away at struggling Kaiserslauten, they were behind at half time, to a 11th minute penalty, and didn't find an equaliser until 73 minutes had passed. Against a team fighting relegation, three points were a neccesity if they were to keep alive any promotion hopes. And they were delivered in the last minute of regulation time, J Holbeas scoring the winner. This was a much needed three points after the league defeat last week, and see's TSV rise to fifth in the table, one point off the promotion places. Our hopes of going to see the Bourussia M'gladbach game are at above average at the moment, and the way the season is playing out, it could be vital to them joing Bayern in the Bundasliga.

Nonsense News

This will be a new thread, where I aim to report on the nonsense that has been spouted by the supposed great and good over the past week. Up at number one this week is the Archbishop of Canterbury, who seems to think that some form a Sharia Law will inevitably be introduced into the British legal system. What a penis. Even New Labour were quick to distance themselves from this joker. The worry is that this buffoon is only publicly saying what others may be thinking. Running the Archbishop close was the Right Honourable MP for Old Bexley and Sidcup, Derek Conway. This character hired his son, paying him approximately £1000 a week for basically doing nothing. Nice work if you can get it. Oh, and lets not forget that was tax payers money. That's right. Mine and yours hard earned frittered away by a piss taking Member of Parliament. And because he is an MP, he is exempt from being sacked. I'd love to show up at place of employment, sit around for a few hours, have a kip and then go down the boozer. But unfortunately from me, my gaffer would kick my keister straight down the labour exchange (is that what they call the dole office now?). Lastly a special mention for the current Home Secretary Jacqui Smith, who has decide on a crackdown on underage drinkers during the upcoming school holidays. Maybe if she cracked down and enforced the law all the time, it wouldn't have become the problem it now appears to be. Or does that make too much sense??

STOP THE NONSENSE!!

Touched by His Holiness

I totally forgot to mention this a few weeks ago, it happened on a Friday, and after spending the evening in the George things can get a little hazy in the old memory department. Any hoo, back to my tale. I was pulling out of Carlisle Terrace, looking for a gap in traffic, when out off nowwhere appeared Bradfords most celebrated citizen, Jesus Man! As I fumbled to switch on my phone camera, he reached out and touched my van, smiled and off he went, as his usual brisk walking pace. It didn't bring me any luck in that nights EuroMillions lotto, but a brush with a legend is something that doesn't happen everyday. It also gives me a reason to never again wash my van. Hurrah! But what caused me to recall this close encounter with His Holiness?? Well today as I drove through the frozen wastelands of Queensbury, and there he was, holding down his robe, to prevent wind rise I guess, waving at traffic as he strolled by my vehicle. He must have been in a good mood, as he stopped outside the Ring 'o Bells window to wave at the lunch time booze hounds, and then did his famous jig for a group of passing school kids. This time I was quicker off the mark, and manged to take a picture for posterity.

Pity for the MoFo??

Once again a late substitution was required, Shouty working overtime, so Crespo was signed up at the last moment. This did strengthen our team, no offense to the Right Honourable, and gave the Euro E a slght advantage, that the JMF whined about from start to finish. So I would like to say here and now that they have my full sympathy for last nights performance against, what on paper anyway, looked a one sided game. But I can't. The simpering cock munching fools that they are, laughed and taunted us last week, when they found themselves in a similar position of a stronger team. I remember a certain Funky Knobhead chanting "Easy, easy, easy!!" before a ball was kicked in anger, and telling us how much he was going to enjoy tanning our arses. And I recall the smirk on Jamons face prior to kick off, at what he seemed to think was going to be a cake walk. But they had their smugness rammed down their jism lubricated throats didn't they. So knob jockeys, if your looking for pity, start looking elsewhere. The game itself was a pretty straight forward victory for the Righteous. The MoFo put in a valiant display, but apart from a brief moment of parity half way through the game, were always playing catch up, eventually sucumbing by three goals. Pick of the performance was Jamon in goals, whose usual ineptitude between the sticks was set to one side, as he repelled wave after wave of Euro attacks, only allowing big JohnnyM to blemish his clean sheet just at the end of of his keeping stint. On to next week, as the Elite open a three game lead.

Line-ups;

JMF- Jamon, Funky Pedestrian, King Dave, Luklear War and Dead Eye

EURO E- JohnnyMedia, European Bri, Crespo, Young Gaz and The Mercenary

2008 Season

• JMF wins -1



• Euro Elite - 4



• Draws - 0

Dusseldorf or Bust!

It appears I may have been hasty in calling off the trip to Germany in April. With the fall through of the Edinburgh trip, a financial window of oppourtunity has opened, and with Jet2 running a sale, there is the possibility that I can afford to go see the Bourussia Monchenglabach-TSV 1860 match after all. The flights have dropped, and can be done for around £45, but if I try and book more than three, it reverts to nearer the £80 mark. Is anyone interested??? So far, apart from myself, Shouty, KC and Dazzler have shown willing.

McOdyssey

Yaarrrgghh, ye monkey wringing testicle shavers, it be I mcEuro, sadly announcing this be the last McEuro for a spell. I needs to be of navagting the globe to captire me some more golden arches, and build up me doubloon pot. Hopefully me sabbatical will not be long. As fer last weeks conundrum, I be gristling me gherkins in McSalzburg, Austria.

And dont be fergettin' that

marks the Spot...YYYarrrrghhhh!!!

Mascot Madness

After a brief mascot respite, it is the turn this week of my beloved baseball team, the Cleveland Indians. Once the butt of many jokes, mistake on the lake et al, the Tribe are now one of baseball best teams. It was not always thus, they were the inspiration for the Major League series of goofball comedies about a team that sucked. For the best part of the sixties, seventies and eighties they were the American equivalent of Rochdale Town, and often played in front of crowds under ten thousand in a stadium that held around 75,000. In a vain effort to encourage more folk through the turnstiles in 1974, they held a 10 cent beer night, that ended in a riot. Of course in these time of Politically Correct nonsense, the use of the name Indians, and their logo Chief Wahoo, saw the do gooders petition for a name change, thankfully to no avail. Back to the actual pitchside mascot. It is some kind of pink monster called Slider, a big stupid looking thing, that goofs off between innings. He is pretty useless, but does perform one cool stunt. He gets a big elastic band, lays down on his back, and fires hot dogs from between his legs into the stands. He also wanders up and down the aisles posing for photos with kids. Thats about it. He doesn't get to fire his weiner up any cheerleaders, so yet again he is no match for the mighty Brutus Buckeye. There is however one team that do have a mascot or two to rival our love conker hero. The Milwaukee Brewers are so named due to their one time position as the number one city for beer production. During the seventies, they had two mascots, Bernie and Bonnie Brewer. Bernie stood out on top of the bleachers, sporting a moustache and leiderhosen, and when the Brewers hit a home run, he would launch himself down a big slide, into a vat of frothy beer (sounds like the greatest job in the world doesn't it?). Inexlpicably, he was retired in 1984. Brought back by popular demand in 1993, he was now a fully fledged foam mascot, and as these prudish time dictate, he no longer slides into a big glass of foamy lager, he just goes down a slide (in this country they would probably force him to wear a high visibility jacket as well). The one thing the brewers have now, is a sausage race, were a bratwurst, hot dog, Chorizo, Polish sausage and Italian sausage race around the infield during the seventh inning stretch. They even have an official website, click here to view. Follow this link to see an actual race. Of course this race has not been without controversy, the most infamous example being the sausagegate incident which can be viewed here. Honourable mentions in the baseball mascot ranks are the Philly Phanatic of Philadelphia, and Mr Met of the New York Mets, said to have been the first live mascot in the Major Leagues. For me though, none still live up to the bonkers conkers that belong to Brutus the Buckeye. So to round up this weeks offering of mascot madness I present Brutus: An Evolution......

Postscript
Only in America. Follow this link to the official Mascot Hall of Fame.

La Merda o Brilla??

The squad is named, and in just a couple of days we will see Fabio Capello send out his first England team in a freindly against Switzerland. I for one have no issue with Becks being dropped, not playing in a game of any note since November is not how to gain international selection, although it would have been nice to see him reach his hundred ( bet he doesn't think that yellow card against Wales is so clever now). It will be intersting, however, to see what Fabio's reaction is if we perform poorly. I hazard a guess he won't look like a bemused chimpanzee whilst vainly clinging to an umbrella. It would be nice to think after the last six years or so that merit, not reputation, will become to key to selection, and if so to see how some of the now veteren players, Owen and Lampard to name two, respond. I personally have good vibes about Capellos appointment, a serial winner of trophies, and think the kind of no nonsense magement style he has will give us back the backbone we seem to have lost halfway through Sven's tenure. Roll on South Africa 2010.

Derby Day

Well I hoped for it too happen, and it has. The quarter final for the DFB Cup in Germany has drawn TSV 1860 against Bayern. The game is on the same Tuesday night that the Bantams play Rotherham at home, on the 26th of February. Both games unfortunatley kick off around the same time, so if it is shown live on Setanta I will unfortunatley miss it. Lets just hope both teams stick it to their opponents.

On the subject of football, the last transfer window has closed for the 2008 Bender Squad Fantasy Football. Early leader Dead Eye has faded badly, his refusal to pick Man U or Chelsea players blowing his chances. I currently hold the top two spots, by a healthy margin, from big JB, with the Funky Knobhead in the next two spots. Wooden spoon seems destined to go to SammyJ, although the Paulcano is doing his best to slip in behind her.

Growing Old Disgracefully

This weekend see's yet another bender squad member hit the big 40, this time Tony Helmet finds out if life is truly about to begin. The original plan was take off to Edinburgh, but financial constraints after Christmas, means we have down scaled, and we will be sticking to the environs of West Yorkshire for a celebratory bender. It should be a good one, Helmet was reckoned to be the least likely to make it to this milestone of age, and we are figuring to kick off the booze fest at noon next Saturday in Lloyds, some of us taking in the City match later in the afternoon, and then reconvening at Guiseppes back yard. From there on in, it's anybody's guess as to what we get up too. Spread the word, get a babysitter, tell the wife your off out for a packet of fags and we will see you there.