Well that was another frustrating game for England and certainly not a performance to convince anybody to close the streets of London in anticipation of a World Cup victory parade.
I watched the game out the back of a local pub with Simon (whom I watched the T&T match with the other week). It was a dirty, hot and smelly room which was full of chavs. One of which was blowing a damn whistle throughout the whole match. I was hoping that they would inhale it, choking to death and therefore shut the hell up.
There was some Vicky Pollard type girl sitting at the back who kept Simon and I amused during the tedious moments.
About halfway through the first half she piped out “What’s Alex Ferguson doing on the bench?”, to which everybody looked bemused until somebody pointed out to her that it was in fact Steve McClaren the England coach and soon to be manager.
She became very anxious when the goalkeeper Paul Robinson took a free kick from the corner flag “He’s out of his box! Why is he out of his box?” She also started shouting hysterically when Joe Cole picked up the ball to take a throw in “He’s picking up the ball! Why isn’t he getting in trouble?”
Still, England won thanks to David Beckham, who by the way I haven’t slagged off at all during the tournament, unlike most people who seem to hate the man. The only ones I dislike are Frank Lampard and Owen Hargreaves, who are just like a pair of chefs that keep dropping their pancakes… useless tossers.
I did manage to catch the game between Holland and Portugal, I say game, it was more of a fight. Four players were sent from a referee who handed out more cards than a blackjack dealer. England will play the winners Portugal on Saturday. Whether Portugal have any players left to take part is another matter.
Oh, and after all that I still found time to make a mix for the game. Stick it on your MP3 player tomorrow and relive what was a truly excellent game of football! :o)
Yesterday afternoon (before I went to the park) I went to Garden Centre to buy some more fish. Two weeks ago I bought 3 Danios and was told to come back this weekend to get another 3. I also bought a motorised gravel cleaner as the manual one I have is a real bitch to get going, I normally end up with water and fish shit everywhere.
And then there were six
So, last night I had 6 happy fish swimming around the tank. I got up this morning to find that one of the new ones didn’t look very well. He had a long streak of yellow shit hanging out his arse and all the other fish were avoiding him, as opposed to trying to eat the turd like they normally do. He was also hanging around the waters surface and within an hour of me getting up he was dead.
I now have 5 fish. Some of my friends thought that getting a pet was a bad idea as I would kill them. I’ll say on this occasion it was not my fault. It died within 24 hours of arrival and in theory I could go and get a £1.50 refund.
Thou shall have a fishy on a little dishy…
A funeral did take place for the deceased creature who also received a proper buried – flushed down the toilet. Unlike the hamster, this time my pet didn’t get stuck in the U-bend.
This afternoon was spent in Victoria Park with friends, soaking up the beautiful weather and enjoying various games of football. Beautiful stuff.
It was a great fun, even though my calf muscles and legs are now aching from all the footy. I haven’t had a decent kick about for a long time, I’m not that good to be honest, I did try though and by my reckoning, that alone warrants a place for me in the England national side, well if Owen Hargreaves can get in…
Around 8ish we all left the park and decided to head for Mr. White’s house for a barbecue. Even though there is often a lot of trouble at Mr. White’s functions, he can throw a decent BBQ, I’ll give him that. We went via Sainsbury’s where we picked up meat, coal, beer and all the other essential ingredients required.
The coles took ages to light and after all the exercise, coupled with the fact I didn’t have a proper lunch I was starving. Had I left it to others to get it going, by the time it finally was alight I would be dead, covered in flies with a belly protruding half-way to bloody Boston!
I took matters into my own hands and cooked a burger under the grill. OK that is cheating and totally defeats the whole objective of a BBQ (the smoky flavour, anticipation while it cooks, risk of salmonella) but I was eating before anybody else and I was happy!
Once my hunger needs were resolved, I did tuck into some delicacies off the BBQ, all very nice, most notably BBQed corn on the cob. This is lovely, especially with a bit of butter on the side. Anyone having a BBQ over the summer really should try it as it is simply divine.
As it approached midnight I decided to leave, I was getting tired, others were getting drunk, one girl was very pissed (I suspect she drank the majority of a vodka bottle) and I didn’t want to get involved with another war between White and one if his neighbours. I recommend all police leave be cancelled immediately.
Lastly, in between trips to the toilet I did manage to catch a few moments from the Argentina – Mexico World Cup game. The Argies are very, very good and I predict they’ll win the tournament. It’s just a shame that they’re a bunch of diving, cheating c***’s – and they really, really are. There is more acting in an Argentinean match than a William Shakespeare play. They go down like they have been shot for the slightest of things and are violent little twats themselves. I think come Friday I may do something I have never done before… support the Germans in a football match.
I am now off work for a couple of weeks. As I am not going on holiday anywhere it that leaves me with a lot of free time, effectively I am unemployed. So, what do the unemployed do? Stay in bed until 2pm, wander around the place in only their pyjamas and watch Trisha on television… maybe. It’s an idea if things get really dull.
Later in the week Mr. Hobart is coming back “home” to Bath for a few days. So no doubt there will be some madness there, probably involving a Nintendo 64, ratchets, bucket of KFC, non-alcoholic lager and some used underpants (don’t ask). Blood will be spilt, most likely from the veins of Mr. Watkins.
I went to The George pub with Mr. Watkins again last night. He was very late, mainly due to events out of his control. He runs an internet café and when it was time to close for the evening his customers didn’t want to leave.
I observed the customers over the webcam as they took their time in ending their internet sessions, while Mr. Watkins scurried around the café politely asking them to “Please fuck off”.
One customer caused me great annoyance in refusing to leave (well, that’s what it looked like over the webcam). I have asked Mr. Watkins in future to physically unplug the café’s network router next time. Either that or physically remove the customer.
Anyway, Watkins eventually made it to Bath and we headed for the train station to get a taxi to the pub. We joked that “Uncle Albert”, the scruffy looking taxi driver who has picked us up the last two weeks would be there – he only bloody was! Never has the term “We must stop meeting like this” been more appropriate.
Watkins and I were a little worried by the fact that he was waiting for us AGAIN, so instead of climbing aboard, we decided to hide inside the station, peering out from behind the windows, waiting until he drove off. The trouble was that he didn’t, he even got out of his car for a rest!
We decided to sneak off and head for another taxi rank, as we were escaping somebody else got into his taxi and he drove off. Hopefully we’ll never have to get a ride from him again, however something tells me that we haven’t seen the last of “Uncle Albert the Taxi Driver”.
We arrived at The George where I had Sausage and Mash. We had to wait for a whole hour for the food to arrive. During this period I got extremely bored and started to play around with a candle that had been placed on the table.
You can have a great deal of enjoyment with candles in restaurants – sticking your fingers in the hot, melted wax and then allowing the wax to solidify, breaking the rim of the candle so the wax pours out all over the table. I had a lot of fun but I also made a big mess, totally befouling the candle. Apologies to any waitress to had to clean it up.
Watkins came back to mine after as it was too late for him to make the train and bus journey home to Bristol. As always he slept on the inflatable air bed. As I was dosing off after a long, tiring day I heard what I thought was breathing. I turned on the bedside light to find out what it was and saw Watkins staring at me. This shocked me and I instantly let out a loud, high pitched scream. Any neighbour or flatmates must have been more than a tad concerned. Watkins is now officially a bastard and following the Carling trick in The George last week I owe him two pranks!
I am not happy with tonight’s game. I haven’t got much to say on it so I’ll leave you with another transcript of various texts sent between Dan and myself duting the match. Oh, and this mix I made.
Myself
(after Owen injury)
Shit. Poor Owen. Can you play as a striker?
DanH
Lampard should be shot. Again
Myself
I would do the shooting but I only have one bullet – for Sven
DanH
Rooney’s striker reminded me of Lampard., who is c*** of the month for the second time.
Myself
I hope you’re not calling Rooney a c*** as I would have to strongly disagree with you. Rooney is not a c***, except when he plays for ManU.
DanH
No I’m calling Lampard a c**t and now I’m calling you one too. C***. I’m doing a get well card soon for Owen. Care to sign?
Myself
Yes, I will sign it – “Why was it you and not Hargreaves?”
DanH
(a quote for fans of The Simpsons. This was sent during a stressful moment)
“Let’s just say I’m sitting in the right chair”!”
I’m off to bed. Good night.
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
