The Weather And The World Cup
Interested to dive across the Pennines yesterday, heading east/west across the M62, a drive I do quite often. You know the bit that has a farm in the central reservation? Just before there on the left is a large reservoir, well let me rephrase that there is usually a large reservoir. If you were going for a sail yesterday you had a fairly long walk before your boat got into the water.
In the run up to the start of the British Open on Thursday, they were reporting on the Scottish Open from Loch Lomond on the BBC last night. They showed brief highlights of the odd put being sunk on the greens there. Greens? Browns more like.
Cut straight to Silverstone for news from the Grand Prix. What's that the reporter is standing on? Is there something wrong with the telly? It suddenly looks like we've skipped to Tribal Wives in Ethiopia, no we haven't he's stood on a "grass bank", except it's a grassless bank. Think Southport sand dunes, except Silverstone probably has a shorter walk to get into the sea, and you'll get the general idea.
Talking of sport, I can't go without mentioning the World Cup: I thought that Howard Webb was more than lenient towards the Dutch, the moaning orange buggers. I also thought that it was a nice touch at the end when it looked like they'd allowed the Spanish WAGS onto the pitch to kiss their husbands/boyfriends, then I realised it was just Carels Puyol running around doing that. The big girl. Fernando Ladyboy Torres didn't seem to mind too much though. The pain of his hamstring injury was quickly forgotten with Puyol's tongue down his throat.
I mourn the death of the manly handshake I really do. You never used to see Bobby Charlton and Alan Ball carrying on line that did you? I mean I know Bally was ginger and everything, but even so. They knew how to behave in those days. "I'm Having Nobby Stiles' Baby" - not the sort of headline we used to see back in the good old days was it? Those lads weren't all knocking off each other wives were they? Snorting crack cocaine off the naked 42DD breasts of a page three girl. No, they were too busy stealing jewellery for that sort of caper. It was never proven, mind.
In the run up to the start of the British Open on Thursday, they were reporting on the Scottish Open from Loch Lomond on the BBC last night. They showed brief highlights of the odd put being sunk on the greens there. Greens? Browns more like.
Cut straight to Silverstone for news from the Grand Prix. What's that the reporter is standing on? Is there something wrong with the telly? It suddenly looks like we've skipped to Tribal Wives in Ethiopia, no we haven't he's stood on a "grass bank", except it's a grassless bank. Think Southport sand dunes, except Silverstone probably has a shorter walk to get into the sea, and you'll get the general idea.
Talking of sport, I can't go without mentioning the World Cup: I thought that Howard Webb was more than lenient towards the Dutch, the moaning orange buggers. I also thought that it was a nice touch at the end when it looked like they'd allowed the Spanish WAGS onto the pitch to kiss their husbands/boyfriends, then I realised it was just Carels Puyol running around doing that. The big girl. Fernando Ladyboy Torres didn't seem to mind too much though. The pain of his hamstring injury was quickly forgotten with Puyol's tongue down his throat.
I mourn the death of the manly handshake I really do. You never used to see Bobby Charlton and Alan Ball carrying on line that did you? I mean I know Bally was ginger and everything, but even so. They knew how to behave in those days. "I'm Having Nobby Stiles' Baby" - not the sort of headline we used to see back in the good old days was it? Those lads weren't all knocking off each other wives were they? Snorting crack cocaine off the naked 42DD breasts of a page three girl. No, they were too busy stealing jewellery for that sort of caper. It was never proven, mind.