The Last Post


Spent all day crying, watching BBC coverage of the D-Day Vets. So proud of those old guys and they are all so humble. Wonderful stuff. I would never fight over oil or for spurious reasons to kill people, but if the Nazis ever again threatened our shores I’d like to think I’d do my bit.
70 years on, we’ve started voting-in racists, bigots & homophobes. Might as well have let Hitler in. What a waste.

 

Image: The 70th Anniversary Of The D-Day Landings Are Commemorated In Normandy

 

So they’ve won. I shouldn’t give up so easily, but for the past four-or-so years I’ve written at length (and incoherently) warning about the rise of the Right. I may not be right about many things, but I was spot on about UKIP and their mob.

Any humour I ever possessed came from a smidgen of hope. I no longer have that for this country. I don’t have the energy to fight against what’s happening. I’m an out-of-date old leftie who’s views are no longer relevant, so I shall leave it with you all. By the time most of you read this, you’ll be under a government more right-wing than Thatcher’s — and when I started this blog I’d have never believed such was possible.

So goodbye and thanks for reading and commenting. If you don’t care about living in a liberal (small ‘l’ )society, only one other thing is important: Please adhere to Greaves’ Rules (they are posted in this blog for your enjoyment) and use whichever heavy implements you can on the local nazis —you know who they are (so that’s two things).

THAT IS ALL

Advertisements

Frostbite or Verbals…


Sad to see that Bob Hoskins has left us today. Always seemed to me like a decent bloke, and a very convincing actor. There’s that famous yarn about him getting his first break in acting when he accompanied a mate along to a theatre and fell into an audition himself. He landed the part and the rest, as they say…

Michael Caine, Bob Hoskins: Mona Lisa

Michael Caine, Bob Hoskins: Mona Lisa 1984

Bob never knew it, (and even if he did I doubt if he’d have cared) that he got me through English A-Level. In a moment of weakness I’d neglected to read the set Shakespeare work —Othello that year (1982/3)— but, as luck would have it, the blessed BBC decided to show their production of the play staring Anthony Hopkins as the Mad Taff Moor, and Hoskins as Iago. Both were brilliant in their roles, Hoskins especially. It’s a hell of a lot easier remembering quotes and plot lines when you have a strong image of a Cock-er-ney Geezer delivering each line like he was asking for a pint and a pie down the Old Kent Road. So thanks Bob for getting me my one decent qualification. Yours is the performance by which I judge all others — which rather puts Kenny Brnnnnnnaaaaaagh at a disadvantage.

Hoskins was Roger who fell for Jessica Rabbit, could play anything from Capt Hook’s Smee, a jobsworth plumber in Brazil and a gangster in The Cotton Club. But he’ll doubtless be best remembered for his brilliant and brutal portrayal of Harold Shand in The Long Good Friday. The only thing more fascinating than the 1980 London backdrop is his peerless performance.

British cinema rightly boasts of Dickie Attenborough as Pinky Brown in Brighton Rock;  Michael Cain’s Jack Carter in the superb Get Carter, whose direct descendent is Don Logan in Sexy Beast. Standing shoulder to shoulder with these three is Harold Shand. A great British Gangster.  The Mafia ?  I’ve shit ’em

Some quotes from one of THE most quotable of all movies:

Harold: (announcing his big plans) I’m setting up the biggest deal in Europe with the hardest organization since Hitler stuck as swastika on his jockstrap.

bob-hoskins-the-long-good-friday-poster-557890661-2

Pool Attendant: (informing Harold of his mate Colin’s death). They kept it all incognito. They’re gonna collect the body in an ice cream van.
Harold: There’s a lot of dignity in that, isn’t there? Going out like a raspberry ripple.

Harold: Alan found him dying. He’d been nailed to the floor.
Jeff: When was this, then?
Harold: Well, it must’ve been just after you saw him and just before Alan saw him. Otherwise, you’d have noticed, wouldn’t you? I mean, a geezer nailed to the floor. A man of your education would definitely have spotted that, wouldn’t he?

Casino Manager: It was a good night. Nothing unusual.
Harold: “Nothing unusual,” he says! Eric’s been blown to smithereens, Colin’s been carved up, and I’ve got a bomb in me casino, and you say nothing unusual?

THE-LONG-GOOD-FRIDAY

Harold: (holding a gun in his pocket) Move to the car, Billy, or I’ll blow your spine off.
Billy: That’s not a shooter, is it, Harold?
Harold: Oh don’t be silly, Billy. Would I come hunting for you with me fingers?

Harold(on learning that the Yanks have pulled out of the deal)  I’m glad I found out in time just what a partnership with a pair of wankers like you would’ve been. A sleeping partner’s one thing, but you’re in a fucking coma! No wonder you got an energy crisis your side of the water!

Harold: The Mafia? I’ve shit ’em.

Harold: (bidding The Americans a fond farewell) What I’m looking for is someone who can contribute to what England has given to the world: culture, sophistication, genius. A little bit more than an ‘ot dog, know what I mean?

Harold: (to the captured mobsters, trussed up in a deep freeze). Right… it’s up to you. Frostbite or verbals…

thelonggoodfriday05

Right Wing Over from the Reichstag End


There a million quips to be had from this story: N.F.Farage opening for the Gentlemen etc but I shall desist. So instead of reporting this to you in my own words, and not being able to do it justice, here’s the full story from todays Beeb website.  As a regular (every morning about 6:30) cricket tourist, I am not sure I’d have made myself available for this one. Nevertheless, it’s a fascinating read. Great stuff.

The English cricket team that toured Nazi Germany

Vintage cricket bat and ball

The visits of sports teams to Nazi Germany in the 1930s still generate controversy today, from the Berlin Olympics’ anti-Semitism to the England football team’s Nazi salute in 1938. But a new book tells the story of a cricket team from Worcestershire that found itself at the centre of a now-forgotten furore.

In August 1937 the Gentlemen of Worcestershire cricket club arrived in Berlin to compete in three games organised by members of the Nazi hierarchy who had developed an interest in the sport.

The Nazi Reichsportsfuhrer Hans von Tschammer und Osten had visited England to watch the Davis Cup tennis semi-final between Germany and USA at Wimbledon. He was also invited to Lord’s as part of a tour of the summer’s sporting events, where he watched Middlesex beat Worcestershire.

The MCC recorded the visit, and it’s likely that von Tschammer met Maj Maurice Jewell, a former Worcestershire player and stalwart of the Gentlemen of Worcestershire, and asked him to bring a cricket team to Berlin. The Gents, as they are still known, are one of the oldest surviving cricket teams in the world, having played their first match in 1848. Known as a wandering or nomadic club, with no home ground, the team has always been made up of a group of cricket enthusiasts and predated Worcestershire County Cricket Club.

German newspaper of the time advertising the tour by the "gentlemen von Worcestershire"A German newspaper reports the tour of “die Gentlemen von Worcestershire”

After the Nazi minister’s request, Jewell was able to rustle up a team of wealthy gentlemen, five of whom had played first class cricket for Worcestershire, as well public schoolboys who could travel within a few weeks to Berlin.

Peter Robinson, a 16-year-old schoolboy, “was taken on the tour to make up the numbers”, says Dan Waddell, author of Field of Shadows, which tells the story of the 1937 tour. But Robinson ended up playing every match after a regular was taken ill with pneumonia. In a letter sent home on 4 August 1937, Robinson describes drinking on the morning they arrived: “It is about 9.15 am. The beer here is much nicer than in England.”

The Gentlemen were too good for the Germans and won all three games comfortably.

But what went on off the pitch was more remarkable. The team arrived in Berlin as the city was celebrating its 700th anniversary in an event manufactured by Nazi propagandists as another excuse to show off military might in a series of parades.

Berlin August 1937Berlin, August 1937: The cricket tour arrived during Nazi celebrations of the city’s 700th birthday

The Gents were asked to give the Nazi salute before their first match. As dutiful guests, they obliged.

“I think they were just being polite” says Waddell, who tracked down diaries and scrapbooks handed down by the players to their relatives. “They would have hated to have been seen to be impolite, or snubbing their hosts.”

German newspaper photo of English touring cricketers

Richard Williams bats for the Gents during the tour

The salute occurred just after the team had arrived, but by the time they left Berlin, their attitudes had changed. “If they’d been asked to do that for the final match they wouldn’t have,” says Waddell. “They refused to have their picture taken with the Reichsportsfuhrer because their unease had grown to such an extent.”

Richard Williams, one of the players, later recalled their departure. “We were lucky and glad to get to the station.” As well as detecting the sinister atmosphere, some players were annoyed by gamesmanship from the Germans. Robinson complained: “I was run out in the match to-day by the bowler. He never bowled the ball and ran me out as I backed up. He never warned me.”

The team had been closely watched during their visit. Although able to enjoy the delights of Berlin’s famous nightlife at first, the close scrutiny under which they were kept had left them increasingly unhappy.

The relations between the two teams were generally good, Waddell says, though they disliked the Berlin captain Gerhard Thamer, “who had a penchant for punching fielders who dropped catches off his bowling”.

The atmosphere of intrigue around the tour led to speculation that one of the English players might have been a spy. Robin Whetherley was a good cricketer, but had no connection at all to Worcestershire or the Gents cricket club. He even travelled separately.

Waddell’s theory is that the English cricket authorities informed the Foreign Office of the tour, and that Whetherley, who spoke German fluently, was asked to join the team and gather information. “There was a very good chance he was sent along by London to keep a very close eye on what everyone was up to, and perhaps when he came back, travel to Whitehall and have a chat to somebody,” says Waddell.

Whetherley was killed in the Balkans during the war, while serving with British special forces.

All of the players served King and country in the ensuing war, and perhaps because of embarrassment rarely spoke about the cricket tour. One of the players later described Germany as a “strange place” and said they could hear the sounds of gunfire in the background when they played some matches.

The players witnessed a torchlit procession along the Unter Den Linden which was described as “alarming and eerie”.

Worcestershire County cricket groundWorcestershire County cricket ground

A small number of Germans – including enthusiast Felix Menzel – kept the game alive. In 1945, along with a few equally bedraggled friends, he emerged from the rubble to challenge a group of extremely surprised British troops to a game of cricket. They played and the British team won, narrowly.

But Menzel is now an obscure figure and even the world of English cricket has long forgotten the 1937 tour.

©BBC

Wotcha Dave


ofah_1894391i

Boycie, Trigger and Del Boy in the Nags Head.

Only Fools & Horses’ Trigger, RIP, and some of his best lines:

Discussing the name of Del and Raquel’s unborn child:
Trigger: “If it’s a girl they’re calling her Sigourney after an actress, and if it’s a boy they’re naming him Rodney after Dave.”

In the Nag’s Head pub:
Mike: “I’ve had certificates for my beer.”
Trigger: “Yeah, I’ve had a few days off work with it as well.”

Trigg, the road-sweeper discussing his trusty broom:
Trigger: “And that’s what I’ve done. Maintained it for 20 years. This old broom’s had 17 new heads and 14 new handles in its time.”
Sid: “How the hell can it be the same bloody broom then?”
Trigger: “There’s the picture. What more proof do you need?”

At a school reunion:
Del Boy: “We had Denzil in goal, we had Monkey Harris at left-back, we had… camaraderie.”
Trigger: “Was that the Italian boy?”

After Rodney warns against eating beef:
Trigger: “I don’t know what you’re worried about. I’ve been eating British beef all my life.”

About his father:
Trigger: “He died a couple of years before I was born.”

Arriving at the council tip to find it closed:
Del Boy: “You said it was open 24 hours a day.”
Trigger: “Yeah, but not at night.”

As collated by BBC Online today

Tales from a Tooth Fairy


From this morning’s BBC web page:

Moroccan Stone Age hunters’ rotten teeth
By Jonathan Amos Science correspondent, BBC News

Stone Age Teeth

Scientists have found some of the earliest evidence for widespread tooth decay in humans. It comes from the skeletal remains of Stone-Age hunter-gatherers who lived in what is now Morocco more than 13,700 years ago.

The researchers tell the PNAS journal that the individuals were eating a lot of high-carbohydrate nutty foods.

The poor condition of their teeth suggests they were often in agony.

“At a certain point, the tooth nerve dies but up until that moment, the pain is very bad and if you get an abscess the pain is excruciating because of the pressure on the jaw,” explained Dr Louise Humphrey, from London’s Natural History Museum.

Well that would explain a lot. I must have been eating too many high-carbohydrate nutty foods as, yet again my choppers are giving me serious aggro, and I have been in agony now for, on and off, a month. It will come as no surprise to my regular reader in Penge that I have teeth issues again. My molars have had the doctors baffled for years and their range of colours and hues have kept my friends and colleagues amused for just as long.

I wonder if when these Stone-Age hunter-gatherers popped round to see what their local NHS dentist (you remember the NHS, don’t you ?) could do for them, they were given an ‘estimate’ for the work of 700 quid ?

Cos that’s how much I was quoted.

article-1212692-0038E95D00000258-640_468x539

A Stone-Age hunter-gather and his dentist

Now £700 is not something to be sniffed at. In the present climate of poor trade and nervous consumers (whatever your mate Gideon will have you believe) I’d have to sell quite a lot of T-shirts to clear £700.  About 700, since you ask. And this was only an estimated figure. After antibiotics, cleaning & polishing (once an optional extra, now compulsory) and trips to the hygienist it’ll run into a good deal more.

When I was growing up (yes, I do have a good memory) estimates were given for carpet-laying, wall-rendering or engine-overhauling.  It was rather worrying to think that my dentist, evil-looking man with a drill and pliers in his hand, considered the work I needed in my mouth to be so extensive and major enough to give me a rough guess of how much it might cost. This treatment didn’t tally with his usual price list.

“Give or take a couple of hundred pounds” he added.

(He didn’t say that, but that’s what he meant.)

So, before the festive season began I underwent two, count ’em, TWO root canal procedures, one in my Upper Right Second Molar, the other in my Lower Right Oh Fuck Me That Hurts Premolar. The second of these treatments seem to involve the Doc taking a threaded needle, screwing it down deep into the tooth then pulling it out quickly so that, not only the root, but my right big toenail were wrenched from their housings.

I squealed like Ned Beatty.

So, several hundred pounds lighter (in cash, not in weight) I returned home to enjoy Christmas with The Incumbent, a bottle of malt whisky and a demijohn of antibiotics, content in the knowlege that although expensive, my Xmas would at least be toothache-free.

81JjfTjXXkL._SL1500_

That was December 20th 2013.

On December 22nd 2013 I woke to feel a slight nagging pain in my tooth. This time the ache was from my Lower Left First Molar (do keep up).

“That’s a bugger,” I thought to myself, “I’ll have to go back and see the dentist in the New Year. More Money !  Oh well, at least the pain is not too bad”.

On the 24th the nagging pain had turned into the sort of pain usually associated with a Mossad interrogation, or listening to Robbie Williams ‘crooning’. I was in pain, a lot of pain and my dentist wasn’t open until January 6th. I decided to tough it out. I upped the doses of antibiotics and Lagavulin  and vowed to Ho Ho Hic my way through it.

On the 30th of December, having had a rather sweaty few of days of grimacing and eating only one one side, thoughts of the pain in my Lower Left were completely overshadowed by excruciating burning pain I now received from my Upper Right (one of the original offenders). I was in serious discomfort now, yet I was still a week away from my dentist opening up again for business.

“Why didn’t you just find an emergency 24hr Dentist to treat you?” I hear you ask.

When you are cursed with a fear of dentists as I am and millions like me are, it really is a case of “Better the Devil you Know”. Strange dental surgeons scare me, (see below pic).

AV-37-1228768613

Dear, dear Larry (now sadly gonnie) in a scene from Snickers Man

A week on a cocktail of Ibuprofen, Paracetemol, Orajel, Amoxicillin, (other suicide kits are available), Clove Oil, Glenfidich, Glenmorangie, Glencampbell, Glenclose, Glenanythingaslongasthissoddingtoothstopshurting drags by until the 5th (Sunday) when I feel with my tongue an odd lump on a porcelain crown I had fitted a few years ago. With the walk of a condemned man heading to the gallows, or to a Harry Potter movie, I trudge up to the bathroom and to the mirror therein.

There, as clear as day, is the unmistakeable sight of a crack running the whole length of my crown. It’s has decided this would be a good time to split in half (well! I was going to the dentist anyway, wasn’t I ?).

Yesterday I left the dental surgery clutching another in a long line of prescriptions for antibiotics, and a card with the times of four more appointments to see the surgeon. Two for the THIRD in a series of root canal treatments (Lower Left First Molar) and two to have my freshly-split crown replaced.

KPMG have been assigned the case and I expect to receive their final estimated figures of the cost within weeks.

Oh yes, Happy New Year, by the way.

Malcolmblack_zps2ba92193

More Christmas Repeats


One would have thought the TV companies (even one as shockingly poor as Channel 5) could have thought of something more original than Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to show over the Xmas period. Seems like they’re playing it every 1/2 hour, on the hour. Do they have nothing better to do than scare the children ?

An Evil, Nasty Character, the cause of many a nightmare and sleepless night. And the Child Catcher.

Mrs Brooks in character as The Child Catcher in Chitty Chitty… and, right, before makeup.

(Apologies to our older reader for the repeat of this joke)

5 aren’t, of course, the only culprits. T’BBC must have shares in Con Air (showing every other Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday at 7, 9 and 11pm on BBC4).  The remake is due to go into production this year, coincidentally also starring Rebekkah Brooks with Andy Coulson, with the working title Dirty Wapping Scoundrels).

Plucky England Show Signs of Steady Improvement


image_20130329100839

Queens Park Oval, Port of Spain, Trinidad, March 29 1994.

England should take great pride in their batting over the past few days. It wasn’t that long ago (19 years ago in fact) when they were skittled by West Indies’ Curtley Ambrose for 46 in their second innings in Trinidad. Ambrose (who took 11 for 94 in the game) was one of the greats of the game. But he needn’t had been. This was an age when they were regularly getting routed by all and sundry, good, the bad and the distinctly average of world cricket.

Nowadays, England can be content that they give a good account of themselves against some of the world’s fifth best test sides — often making three figures in the process! On taking up his position as..er…wait a minute, I have it here…er…yes, here it is: COACH of the English team, Andy Flower was quoted as saying “My Goal is to get this side to a level when they can play out a whole spell by Nathan Lyon without losing any more than two or three wickets. Also I’d like to turn Mitchell Johnson from the Sunday Morning Lummox he currently is, into someone who can run through our upper and middle order like Jimmy Savile in a Children’s Ward, no matter how many times he telegraphs his short balls (Johnson, not Savile, that is).” Only Mr Fowlers’ strongest critic would accuse him of failing to achieve his goals.

DECEMBER’S “SPOT THE DIFFERENCE” COMPETITION ANSWERS:

The Answer to last time’s SPOT THE DIFFERENCE Competition:                                                          The 2013/14 side has a Different Photographer.
Winner: Mr D Pringle or SW1 who wins a Poacher-turned-Gamekeeper outfit.

That 1994 Match Summary:

West Indies 252 (Richie Richardson 63, Brian Lara 43; Angus Fraser 4 for 49, Chris Lewis 4 for 51) and 269 (Keith Arthurton 42, Jimmy Adams 43, Shivnarine Chanderpaul 50; Andy Caddick 6 for 65) beat England 328 (Mike Atherton 48, Graeme Hick 40, Graham Thorpe 86; Curtly Ambrose 5 for 70) and 46 (Curtly Ambrose 6 for 24) by 147 runs.

…and by 2013 England have improved to this:

Australia 570-9 dec & 132-3 dec beat England 172 & 312 by 218 runs

Andy Fowlup calculates that, at this rate of progress, by the year 2030, England can expect to rack up scores of well in excess of 500 against a Bangladeshi Presidents XI, and even offer Holland a Five Test series.

BREAKING NEWS. AGAIN.


The BBC’s planned 4 hour news feature on the life and death of Nelson Mandela has been rescheduled for a later date, to be replaced by a 5 hour news feature entitled ‘Nelson Nearly Visited Our Pub Once’. A look back at the very many British notables who were once in the same postcode and nearly saw the back of the head of the late world leader.

Diane Abbott (arrow in head), having walked 17 miles to purely coincidentally bump into Madiba,  tries to accidentally get into the same frame as the Great Statesman. Outside Tooting Village Hall, 1994
Diane Abbott MP (arrow in head), having walked 17 miles to, purely coincidentally, bump into Madiba, tries to accidentally get into the same frame as the Great Statesman. Outside Tooting Village Hall, 1994

Lionel Blair, Joe Swish, international Jazz/Pop Combo sensations JLS —interrupting their sell-out Retirement Tour (tickets at all prices)— Lord Vaz of East Leicester, Dame Christopher Biggins and many many less explain what it was like to be photographed just 7 people away from the great man, during his memorable visit to East Penge Chutney Market, and on his many other visits to this country. (Other Bandwagons are available).

(Live uninterrupted coverage of the Demise of English Cricket continues on Radio 5 Dead)

Misty Water-Coloured Memories of the Way We Was


If you ever need proof that there was, indeed, a God, you need look no further than the fascinating news story that they have unearthed a couple of very early episodes of Dr Who, which up to now had been presumed lost. Wiped. Erased. They had ceased to be. Bereft of life, they rested in peace. After transmission, the intelligentsia at the BBC decided (and, let’s face it, who could argue with them in this instance) that all traces of performances by Fraser Hinds — he of Emmerdale Farm fame— should be deleted, destroyed and copied over with episodes of Pogles’ Wood. They needed the space and this sort of tosh should make way for future, quality programing — say, Michael Bentine‘s Potty Time (it meant something different then than it does now).

dgscricket

Clue: Front row, brown patterned socks, open crotch.

Sadly, copies of the offending articles were unearthed in Guinea-Bissau, or somesuch place. So the geeks and the gits of the Dr Who Brethren can sit there, cup-a-soup cradled in hand, and relive 1960s shite telly. 14 minutes of badly-restored cardboard theatre and wooden actors, but which nevertheless get us ready for the next series of BBC World’s Syndication Sensation, adverts and all. Having turned 34-and-bit yesterday, I am old enough to remember when Dr Who, Blake Seven and The Brothers were all we had to watch if we didn’t want to go and play with weird uncle Colin and his ‘finger puppets’ in the garden. No Sky TV or ITV8 for us, but at least the BBC was commercial-free and still employed professional entertainers and real journalists. (Come Dancing and David Icke apart).

(As an aside there is a house down my road which the inhabitants have hilariously named “Gallifrey” — I kid you not— complete with name plaque. I got a wee bit tiddly last night and The Incumbent had to pull me away as we walked past, lest I piddled in the garden and over the sign).

Isn’t it uncanny (if not astounding), that every time there is a new Dr Who Series in the offing, someone in Ulaanbaatar unearths an episode starring Patrick Troughton or Jon Pertwee or the like (odd that that they always leave the shows starring Sylvester McCoy buried in the attic)? Just when your mind wanders off the subject, the BBC ‘news’ announced someone’s found Tom Baker’s “original” scarf, or Paul McGann’s  long lost “talent”.  If you’ve ever watched The BBC DailyMailBreakfast Show, you’ll know what I mean: New Series Advert Masquerades as News Item. Every single sodding morning. We sit there and take it all in, like The Emperors New Clothes or the new Petshop Boys Single. I predict a riot. Some day.

dgsrugby

Rare image depicting The 1978 Dartford Hair Parting Famine. U13s Purdey Appreciation XV. Clue: Front row, early signs of obesity, small boy at side, open crotch

When I had a proper job, (they used to pay me to look at snaps, pix, photographs— ART , darling!) every 4.6 months someone would offer me snaps “never before seen” of Marilyn Monroe; Every 5 weeks I’d be shown a “new and exciting” set of pics of 1950 cars, still being used as Taxis in Havana, Cuba. But to be fair (and I’m nothing but fair) these monkeys  sorry, photographers, were only trying to earn a living. They were not to know they were the 73rd to offer the exact same thing. I’ve been offered a black & white set of images of an empty supermarket, shot in the name of “art” (I didn’t buy it), and worse was even asked once by a supposed journalist (I do hope to God she no longer exists in this space/time continuum) for “all the great photos of Diana that have never been published”. Honest, that’s what she asked me to find.  I have witnesses. She had a million ideas like this. The same person asked for a photo of “a woman breathing”. Oh ! and of a woman/model “who looks older than she actually is”. Think about that one for a while. She outlasted me at the paper.

I won’t say her name, cos it would embarrass her. Or maybe it wouldn’t. So thank, you Corinna Honan for years of chuckles over those, and all your other hilarious requests [subs- can someone edit this name out before it goes to print please. thanks] . I’ve just Googled her. She works for The Daily Mail !  Ha !  You couldn’t write this stuff. Even though I just have.

So in the spirit of not having anything to say, anything to advertise or promote (although, I do know of a sensational shop which has a thousand of ideas for Christmas gifts for all the family. More on that, here, after 9 o’clock. Now here’s Carol with an awfully bad guess at the weather) I thought I’d show you, as my 34th Birthday gift to you, from me, these two completely irrelevant photos, recently unearthed by experts in Dartford, Kent, and published today by me in Dartford…er…Kent. No angle, nothing to promote. I just found em.

Just thought I’d show them to you. Let this be a warning to younger readers. Say no to Guinness and Ginsters Pasties (whether they are made by Dwarfs, or otherwise). Resist the temptations of Tesco’s Trifle and Scrumpy Jack. Look how gorgeous I was and how I’ve ended up.

The end.

Now here’s an advert.

PoliceBox

Oh, That Fellow Morgan !


A crooked line-out throw, two neck tackles (both by Brian Williams on JPR), a couple of knock-ons, a forward pass or two, 30 pairs of enormous sideburns.

One great commentary.

Cliff Morgan, who has died today, was arguably an even better asset to Rugby Union behind the mic than he was on the pitch as he was as an international Fly Half. Mind you, he was pretty good at both. I’m only old enough to remember him as a Captain on A Question of Sport and he was skilled at that too. He was very Welsh and very proud of it too. He always came across as a genuinely charming bloke too.

Chiefly, though, he will be remembered for the most memorable of descriptions of one of the great tries of all time , probably second only to that solo effort I scored against Canvey Island in 1989. (You had to be there.)

 

scan0018_edited-1