Something For The Weekend (177)

Where's the HSE when you need it?

The images were definitely too disgusting to show on television, it was just too revolting for even after the watershed but they went ahead anyway. I nearly puked and was forced to avert my gaze until it was all over. It was definitely one of the worst things I have ever seen on a live televised sports programme. And, like all scenes of sheer horror, I couldn't stop myself from seeing it over and over in my head, for days afterwards.

Perhaps I am a little too squeamish but sorry, a heavily sweating Garth Crooks squeaking moral indignation, is an obscenity I would prefer not to be subjected to when I am about to eat, of a Saturday. His instant exoneration of Martin Taylor, was not supported by the evidence and merely revealed his prejudice, that no perpetrator should ever have his career threatened, only a victim.

Wenger was obviously a little fraught but in other industries, hod-carriers who drop bricks on innocent bystanders, tend to be encouraged to find work where they can do less harm. This seemed to be the basis of the cheese-eater's thinking.

Luckily we were spared the gory details of Eduardo's mutilated left peg.

If the HSE were on hand, I am sure they would consider any challenge, which involved a straight-legged lunge, where the studded part of the boot was seeking to contact ball or man, to be just too dangerous, and, that the perpetrator was wilfully neglecting his duty of care towards all other personnel in the workplace by persisting in its practise. They might also, consider any such practise, which had such a historical record of causing serious injury, should be specifically identified, in any working instructions pertaining to a particular workplace and proscribed. And surely, they would make it clear that ultimately the responsibility of those who work in a supervisory capacity, is to ensure that such methods do not evolve into custom and practise.

It seemed ironic that Eduardo was taken to Selly Oak, where they put our broken soldiers back together.

Alex Cropley and Luc Nilis - its enough to make you weep.

Elsewhere we were reminded that football makes rather enough excessive demands on the human frame, without the intervention of one of Nature's BCC's (middle C = clumsy), as the impressive Ledley King made a rare appearance for Spurs and transformed them from a purely aesthetic phenomenon, into a rather annoying winning one, as they at last brought home the silverware, last season's form had only promised.

Ledley, one of the unsung missing key ingredients from the England squad, has some degenerative disease, which no amount of Cuprinol can put right. Tragically, Tottenham's versatile maestro, is not helped by his tendency to fall heavily on uncarpeted areas of Essex nightclubs, while pissed out of his brains. Its best avoided. Reports suggested that only gentle treatment from security staff, and an early substitution, (or was it a sending-off?) prevented further career-threatening injury. Some cynics suggest that nightclubs have ruined more careers, than any number of late tackles.

See the shocking pictures by : Clicking Here

The headlines should have read: 'Tragic Ledley Celebrates Glorious Swansong', but the newspapers don't do empathy.

To be honest, I was as jealous as hell, at Spurs winning the Wotsit Cup. As it was supposed to have been Villa's first trophy on their inexorable path to greatness and world domination. But no. It had to be Spurs who were gifted the chance to play a Chelsea who were destined to be punished for their diabolical hubris, after they decided that just winning trophies was not enough. It seems almost certain that had the 'special one' still been in charge, Tottenham would have come home with losers' medals, as has become the custom for teams outside the top-four, over the last few years. Winning is such a rare and precious thing, anyone deciding it is not enough deserves to be punished. And, conversely, someone should be the beneficiary of that hubris. It had to be Spurs, it should have been Villa.

It proved to be exactly the wrong year to go out so early.

Yeah, it should definitely have been me.



Luckily Marlon 'Henry' Harewood was on hand to salve my misery by scoring such a fantastic winner for Villa. It was just sheer class and it was more than enough for me to disregard the tauntings of the green-eyed monster.

No one but me, can know how important Marlon's improvement and telling contribution is to true romantics and lovers of the game. We all love to see the football genius and the gifted natural but for me and perhaps others, there is more joy, by far, in seeing the misunderstood and unjustly criticised, find redemption, in the theatre of Greek tragedy, which is football. Savo's Wembley goal and his Euro 2000 Golden Boot etc.. It's no coincidence that every superhero from the pages of Marvel comics, is a less than ordinary person transformed. Superman, Spiderman et al. Every struggling player should know, that for every jeer they ever hear, there are the silent many, who dream in their hearts, that they will come good.

Players can be transformed - here's a recent picture of Marlon getting up in the morning: Click Here

But the best news of the week was Wayne Rooney, announcing that he was giving up his ambition to learn to play the guitar. Believe me, since I gave it up, the world has been a better place. But, as Wayne must know, with Villa's Mellberg already a secret guitar god, he's just too far behind to ever catch up.

Here's Mell (aka Zakk Wylde) disguised in a wig, showing what you can learn from a Bert Weedon, Play In Day book.

Rock on!



And just to close, on this the 29th of February, I asked a group of women whether any of them had a proposal for me and one said, 'Yeah, go f*** yourself!'

What ever happened to romance?