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Back in 2004 I had a grand notion that I would write down my views on an array of subjects. As at that time I lived in a semi detached house I obviously thought it amusing to come up with the title of the thread. I listed down the subjects as per below
Women – Marriage
Politics
Sport Golf Darts Football
Work
Television
Eating
Drinking
Holidays
Religion
Pubs
Supermarkets
Weather
Foreigners
Art
MusicI found what little I had written tonight on a disk I had copied from my old PC. It seems I only managed to comment on two of the subjects, Football and Religion
Football
I have been a supporter of Arsenal for as long as I can remember. Oh yes I have!
There is a cine film of me in my Arsenal kit tackling my brother in his Chelsea kit on the playing fields that my backed onto my Nan & Bamp’s house in Wotton-Under-Edge around about 1971. So there. When I say supporter I should really mean follower because I have never actually seen them play. I’m not quite sure why I chose Arsenal (I’ll ask my Mum & Dad later and find out) but I guess the two biggest local teams, Bristol’s City and Rovers obviously were not setting the world alight circa 1971. Looking back it was a strange decision I fear, as nowadays I would wholeheartedly recommend cheering for a pair of Bristols at every opportunity.
I don’t remember supporting Arsenal for the 71 cup final but I do remember the disappointment when they got beat the following year by Leeds. I remember the Leeds goal well. The ball was crossed in to the Arsenal area where Alan Clarke tripped over, the ball fortuitously hitting him on the head and flying past the keeper. Look at it again you’ll see I’m right. In 1977 I appeared in my own cup final. The Kirby Shield was the local competition for Primary Schools and my school Thringstone were set to play Measham. We lost 3-0 and I touched the ball about twice. The following year was doubly disappointing. Arsenal were robbed in the cup final by Ipswich with yet another fluky goal. Roger Osborne was in the process of feinting when the ball hit his shin and went in the Arsenal net. How the gunners got the “lucky Arsenal” tag I will never know. Also that year Thringstone got beat in the Kirby Shield semi final. Having won the away leg 5-3, scoring twice myself I believe, we got beat 4-2 at home and as away goals didn’t count we had to play a replay, which we lost 3-1. This was a real blow because as the saying goes we were the better team. September 1978 saw me move to Newbridge secondary school in Coalville and I managed to get picked for the B team. The first B team game was, at the age of eleven, probably the greatest moment in my footballing career. We won 7-0 and I scored five and set up the other two for Kev. If you listen to my Dad tell the story he’ll tell you that I knew nothing about any of them. He reckons I would goal hang around the opposition area, the ball would come across and as I was looking the other way hit me on the head and end up in the back of the net. I obviously have different memories of my efforts particularly a stunning 25-yard effort in to the keepers top left hand corner. It is true a couple of my goals were headers but both were fully intentional. And I wasn’t offside either as Mr Taffy Roberts the B team manager stated. My runs were timed to perfection. Nor did I take the ball off my teammate as he was about to score. And it wasn’t the partially sighted we were playing either. I scored five perfectly legitimate goals. If you don’t believe me find a copy of the school magaziney type thing, it’s there in black and white. This was not enough however to launch me in to the A team but hey it couldn’t keep Malcolm McDonald his England place either after he scored five against Cyprus. To be fair the year I was in had a half decent A team who reached the county cup I think in the third year. I thought I may have made the substitutes bench for the game but it was not to be. I did make the odd appearance for the A team over the three years I was at Newbridge but I was mainly a regular for the B team captaining them a few times in my third year. 1979 was a good year for Arsenal as they lulled Manchester United in to thinking they had saved the match by letting them equalize before breaking their hearts by scoring in the last few minutes. The following year 1980 and Arsenal are in the final again against West Ham and for the third time in ten years a fluky goal settles it. Trevor Brooking bending down to tie his shoelace gets hit on the head with the ball and it flies in the net. What made matters worse was the fact that West Ham should have been down to ten men after Paul Allen blatantly dived over Willie Young’s outstretched leg. To complete a miserable year Arsenal were then robbed by Valencia in the Cup Winners Cup on penalties. In September of 1980 I started at King Edward VII Community College at Coalville. It was about this time that I began to lose a little bit of interest in football. I never bothered trying for the school team, mostly I think because I wasn’t good enough and although I continued following the Arsenal it wasn’t such a “life and death” scenario. I guess there were other things to occupy the mind at that age such as ogling the sixth form girls, playing cards for your dinner money or running horse racing competitions. I did however get to play for the school when I was in the sixth form in 1984/5. My maths teacher Mr Galloway had taken over the running of the school second eleven and persuaded me to turnout one Saturday morning. The team hadn’t won all season and to be honest it wasn’t hard to understand why. However there were three or four lads who had some idea of how to play. A lad who lived on the same estate as me Steve was a half decent midfielder, we had a decent centre back and a quick lad on the right whose names I can’t remember and between us we managed to win 5-3. Modesty does not forbid me to tell you that I managed to score three of the five. I could have scored four and in hindsight should have scored four but an act of unselfishness backfired to produce a rather amusing moment. Having beat a couple of defenders or was it three or four, actually, no wait, it might have been five or six, I digress, I rounded the keeper and was about to slot it in from a reasonably tight angle when I noticed a team mate all alone in the middle of the penalty area. Fortunately for the lad I can’t remember his name but what he lacked in ability he made up for in enthusiasm. Seeing him there I passed the ball to him to score in an open goal. The lad controlled it and from inside the six yard box tried to hit it so hard with his left foot that he slipped in the muddy area slicing the ball wide of the left hand post. Laugh ? My knickers were wringing as they say! I played once more in the sixth form and we got hammered five or six nil.
I didn’t play competitive football again until 1993. In order to gain a bit of fitness a couple of mates and myself decided to train with a local team , Gracedieu United who were previously the George & Dragon. As they were a little short of players we agreed to sign on and play if required. Thus the 1993 season started and we found ourselves playing for the reserves. Much to my surprise I enjoyed it and turned out every week. I didn’t score many but enjoyed it nonetheless. I turned out again for the start of the 1994 season, scoring a hat-trick in a pre season friendly, before finally having my football career ended on a muddy pitch against Cosby in October 1994. With the score at 3-3 and having had a reasonable game an innocuous tackle left me in a heap on the ground in rather a lot of pain. I had tried to hook a ball forward with my right foot , leaving all my weight on my left leg, when an opposition player going for the same ball knocked my left leg which resulted in me lying on the ground wailing like a baby. I put no blame on the opposition player as contact was only minimal and certainly not intentional. I was carried off as walking was not an option and haven’t played since. I had the doctor round the next day who advised me to go to hospital where I was seen after a seven and a half hour wait to have my leg bound up. I visited my doctor the following week who advised me to see a physio. I went to a sports physio in Loughborough where they told me it was probably my co-lateral ligament that I had damaged. The following week they told me it was probably my medial ligament that was damaged. The third week the physio I had been seeing asked if she could get a second opinion from another physio who said with reasonable certainty that I had buggered my cruciate ligament. Knackered at 27. To cut a long story short I was operated on in August 1996. Not only did I have the cruciate problem tended to but I also had a spot of cartilage treatment and a nasty spot behind the knee cap sorted at the same time. I had my leg in plaster for three weeks. When they took the plaster off the nurses had to call for my wife as I had turned a nasty shade of green and was in great danger of feinting. A lot of this could be put down to the shock of seeing the state of my leg and the fact that I didn’t believe for one moment the nurses assertion that the electric saw she was using to remove the plaster would not disappear in to my leg at any moment. Now I don’t know why but I just assumed they would have stitched my leg up with needle and thread or whatever they use. Looking back in hindsight now I can fully understand why not but when I first looked down and saw all this metal it kind of shocked me. It was then the realisation that these staples would have to be taken out. Cue the very very hot feeling, the removal of upper clothing and the nearly falling off the bed routine. I then asked the stupid question. When do I have those metal things out ? There came a look of eager anticipation on the nurses face who gleefully told me “in about thirty seconds”. If I hadn’t known different I’d have thought the woman had won the pools so wide was her smile. She then commenced to take out the 21 staples with what looked like a pair of rusty pliers. To be honest I couldn’t watch her do it. I could say that it was nothing and didn’t really hurt at all but I’d be lying. It hurt. After about 10 minutes the nurse cheerfully stated that she was half way there. Half bleeding way! She then proceeded to take the next staple out and say “Only kidding that’s the last one!” Wonderful sense of humour these nurses. If I’d had the energy I would have put her on my knee and slippered her one! (Wahey!). As it was she put this metal contraption on my leg and sent me home to start on the road to recovery. Arsenal have done very well the last fifteen years winning trophies on a regular basis. As I write they have probably the best team they have ever had. Nine points clear in the premiership, semi final of the FA Cup and quarter final of the Champions League against my brothers team Chelsea. It would be nice to win all three but I have to admit it doesn’t bother me a huge amount. Don’t get me wrong I do want to them to win all three but I’m not going to be a like a bear with a sore head if they don’t. I probably wont watch very much of the games either. You see I have become a little disillusioned with football. It irritates me to watch a game nowadays because of all the diving, playacting, mouthing at referees etc etc etc. It seems some players are more intent on winning the game by conning the referee than they are by skillful play. What makes matters worse is that I can only assume that the men that run the game seem to accept that it is part and parcel of the game or else they would do something constructive to stop it. If a player disagrees with a decision and rushes up and starts mouthing off to the referee, book him! If he continues send him off! If a player is rolling around on the pitch feigning injury get him off and don’t let him back on for two minutes minimum. If a player dives, give them retrospective cautions or ban them until they have learnt to stand up properly. And if they do all three chop their privates off. That’ll stop them pissing about every week. And breathe………..Update : I still follow the Arsenal and have actually now seen them play, at Wembley last year in the Community Shield. I generally get to go and watch Leicester three or four times a season with my son who was fortunate to be part of the Guard of Honour with his team at the recent Chelsea game. I have had a further arthroscopy but the knee is still knackered and watching professional football still irritates me however watching under 9’s football is both enjoyable and nervous torture at the same time.
Religion
Getting straight to the point I do not believe in God. I honestly have no problem with other people believing in whichever God they choose but personally I do not. Live and let live, each to their own etc.. I should really leave it at that but I can’t. Actually yes I can, because after thinking about it for half an hour I can’t be bothered to write about something that matters very little to me.
Update : The above has not changed
Title update : I am now a Fully Detached Man who will have been attached for 20 years in a couple of months
Where has the time gone
Bamp
BITCH AFTER MY PAPER
A FREELOADER
A HOE AFTER YOUR MONEY
BURNSIDE LANGODAMN BRO SHE A BAMP SHE TOOK ALL MY CHICKEN
SHE IN THE HOOD BAMPING EVERYBODYhth
License to kill the bookies
However after reading the above it possibly means Granddad.
License to kill the bookies
What on earth is a “BAMP” ?
As 007 writes in his last post my “Bamp” was my grandfather. I think it’s quite common in the West Country
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