biffbifferson

Tim to go? (Oh I say!)

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Tue, 24 Jul 2012 08:37:00 +0000

NSNO.co.uk security council take the news badly

As we hurtle through another week of squandered opportunity before the inevitable breaking of our collective spirit over the back of apathy/the Tories/your mum, news drifts in that the moderate Blues are to get shut of Tim Cahill.
A lot of people will be saying how Cahill is one of the few recent players to really 'get' what it is to be an Evertonian, and they may well be right.
But they love him at Millwall too - and it went both ways - remember when he scored against them in the FA Cup?
What I liked about him was the goals he scored, so I've gone off him lately, and the opportunity his being a Blue afforded me for getting in the match for free.
I used his name to get press tickets for Everton matches in some of Europe's most exotic fleshpots: Liege and Fulham spring readily to mind.
They were heady days but, like Cahill's powers, they've faded into the background. He's not been the same player for a couple of years now, despite a mini-resurgence when Nikica Jelavic came in. But then no one could keep up that level of effort and not slow down a touch.
The timing is right if he does leave, but it does feel like the end of an era at Goodison. Cahill represented David Moyes' philosophy more than any other player he's signed. Extremely hard working, a bit of a wanker on the pitch, very effective and versatile.
He's getting out just in time to avoid the inevitable abuse that he'd have got this season too.

Same as it ever was

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 08:31:00 +0000

Pfft

It's telling that Leon Osman is David Moyes' most-used player. He is the manager writ large on the pitch - good to a point but can't cut it in the big games.
Osman has never really turned up in the derby - Moyes, only occasionally.
We need change at Everton - everyone can see this - but what's the point of getting some billionaire in to fight for the crumbs that fall of Manchester City's table? That way lies ruin. Everton need a complete overhaul. The way the club approaches everything must change.
Moyes is bulletproof at Everton but this conservatism is holding us back - the idea that if he leaves the whole thing collapses. That's a risk but it's one we need to take. Bill Kenwright, of course, will do nothing as he's in thrall of the manager. As he was the previous one until it was nearly too late.
Here's what won't happen: Kenwright thanks Moyes for his time and gets in, as it was rather eloquently put after Saturday's collapse, 'some foreign bloke'. It's glib but bear with me.
He then says, we've seen the future and it's Athletic Bilbao - the way they press all over the pitch, the way they are all comfortable on the ball, the way they play without fear. This is what we want for Everton.
The club should say that this will take a while and we may be shit for a few years - but then we're pretty shit anyway - but we have absolute faith in this vision. It is the only viable option for Everton.
Evertonians will accept Everton being shit - we're used to it now. But I think we'd all like to see a new young, vibrant Everton. We had a young, vibrant manager but unfortunately he's become stale.
Look at the teams who've wiped the floor with us in Europe over the last few years - the way they all play. Fast, quick passing. And then look at us.
This patchwork squad building model is never going to really cut it - but it's largely the only option open to the manager at present. So we change and have every player at every level of the club playing the right way. Comfortable on the ball and aggressive. The way Bilbao played against United - leaving them looking like a lumbering dinosaur - was exhilarating.
I don't know how we go about this and I have no idea who the manager to do it is, but there should be people at the club constantly working on improving us. If not, why not?
Saturday's routine loss doesn't have to be for nothing if it kick-starts a complete revision at Everton. Of course it won't though, and wouldn't it be just like Everton to go to Old Trafford on Sunday and get shrugged aside ahead of more patronising words from Sir Alex Ferguson?
Nil satis nisi optimum (unless we play Liverpool or in any kind of big game).

Rebirth Song | Bleep Bleep

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 15:00:00 +0000

Rebirth Song | Bleep Bleep

Kopites are?

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 11:48:00 +0000

The humanity!

BANG! And so the mask finally slipped to reveal the ugly, twisted, ugly, toothless, pale, ugly, a-bit-like-Darth-Vader-without-his-hat-on face of the Liverpool supporter.
So much has been written about Luis Suarez and the rest of those oiks we shall waste no more time on them here. For it is at the coal face where the really interesting buggers are to be found.
A world of slaveish cultism, banners, badges, meetings, videos and general all-round dingbattery.
And I for one salute them. I'm an Evertonian and I have many (three) chums who support Liverpool, each of whom I would trust with my own nutsack, should the situation demand it.
But it's the collective that I can't be doing with - never could, never will. Such a self-satisfied bunch of blowhards.
For convenience I'd chuck my pals in with this crowd of halfwits but I'd know, deep down, they were okay. Then came Suarez and the whole thing collapsed.
One of my most trusted inner circle (yes, YOU Ben, you potherb) started trotting out the party line. That Patrice Evra had lied/been rude/something and poor innocent Luis was innocent - it's a line that John 'bellend' Aldridge was trotting out on BBC Five Live at the weekend.
Even now, despite the verdict and apologies, there are still some Kopites clinging to the wreckage, with their fingers in their ears, screaming. Snot running down their faces, eyes wild with hate, thrashing against the world (their mums, mainly) at the sheer injustice of it all.
Sky TV, the BBC, Yanks (not those ones, THOSE ONES), Manchester United, the media in general - have all incurred the Kopites' wrath as they bounce around their crusty sock strewn bedrooms writing on the internet (yes, just like this!) about reports and declaring that they have read the reports and understand the reports better than some poxy QC and what the hell are we going to do about it well we'll show them.
All their self-manufactured 'goodwill' (other clubs' supporters probably didn't hate them, just thought they were nobheads) built up over years of flags and scarves and singing shit songs has been destroyed at a stroke.
And now, as the discussion finally moves on from Suarez and Evra, there are still a few, a select, dainty few, still raging, emboldened by the smouldering internet news that one of their top minds has found a video of the ghost handshake which shows Evra's arm wasn't out enough to be engaged.
Remember the episode of the Simpsons where Bart writes 'insert brain here' on the back of Homer's head and he spins round and round and round trying to see it and at first the family laughs but then it becomes awkward? Well this is just like that.
The worst thing that could have happened for normal Liverpool supporters was the agitators believing their press - that they got rid of 'dem Yanks'. No. You didn't. You're not some highly politicized force, you're noisy irritants.
And why do you all have to call it 'Libboobuborrblub' when you're clogging up the airwaves with your self righteousness and appalling clothes? We know what Liverpool refers to in this instance. No one's watching wondering what all this has to do with Liverpool chamber of commerce, or 'synagogue'.
Take this bundle of joy. He goes by the handle Skrtel Power and he's clearly vexed about Manchester United and Evra. Ooh he's vexed. As is his right as a consumer (who watches the games on the telly). But look at his room - there are pictures of footballers on it. This is a man of voting age.

This is the new, 'empowered' supporter. It's not exclusive to Liverpool but they do seem to attract them. A few years ago, Evertonians used to think of the Kopite collective as balloons but, like cockroaches and spiders in one's house, you could share the space as our worlds needn't clash.
That's changed now because some of them - and it seems like a fair number - think they're some kind of 'force for good'. Their protest marches against Tom Hicks and George Gillette - and I'm not knocking anyone who can be arsed doing something like that - will become the Kopite equivalent of the Sex Pistols at the Screen on the Green.
But the truth of it is, as a group: You take yourselves ridiculously seriously, you should shut the fuck up, and you wear bad training shoes.
That said, the world can look forward to seeing what the Kop banner random word generator throws up in support of Kenny Dalglish and ratboy Suarez. 'At the end of a storm there's a golden sky' was one being suggested on the Red and White Kop gentlemen's discussion forum. It's good because, apart form anything else, there isn't, even.

This load of old tosh was first published on http://www.sabotagetimes.com

Get your kids out of my alehouse - NOW

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 12:19:00 +0000

That'll be £19 please

Some dingbat tweeted this today: "Hither Green people: DECENT LOCAL PUB ALERT!! The Lord Northbrook near Lee station. Completely refurbished & familyfriendly. It's lovely!"
I feel compelled to respond.
Take your children, your buggies, your piles of fucking toys, your colouring in books ('oh Josh and Hetty are so creative!' 'Yes, so's my Jacasta. Don't pull Max's hair, darling') and sod off.
It's a pub - it's for grown ups. I don't bring a bag of cans down the nursery. Hardly ever. Because it doesn't fit. No one wants to hear your precious little angels until they have developed something approaching an indoor voice. Kids have two settings - loud and off. They are unsuitable for public consumption.
No one cares if they can walk or talk or play the recorder or ride a bike or do joined up writing. We can do all that for ourselves.

You sit there all smug with your JCB prams, taking up the corner - yes, you always wodge yourselves in the corner - with your ghastly 'work in progress'.

All the lads have long fucking hair - you think it's you allowing them 'personality' but singularly fail to grasp that you're schooling them in conformity. These uniformed little toy soldiers are racing up the same track as their vapid parents.

You with your Sunday papers and your friends all sitting there, dead from the neck up, desperately looking round the table for something, anything to tell you this is all worth it, and wondering which one of them you could fuck.

Sandals and shorts in the summer, Gola fucking trainers and scarves in the autumn - coalition-tolerating, dribbling halfwits. 'Family friendly' pubs are an abomination - they should be WIPED OUT! You gave up fun for kids, why poison the rest of us?
You've had it your own way for long enough and it's about time we pushed back. Next time you see this shower, plonk yourself down in the middle of them and swear and fart as if your very sanity depends on it. Because it just might.

Had to include this emailed response from a chum: 'A local cafe near me has felt the wrath of the mumsnet crew as well. The cafe put up a sign saying that the regulars were being driven out by screaming kids running about the place. All they said was ‘you can come in but you need to ensure that your kids are kept under control for the sake of other customers’. From the reaction of the parents you’d have thought the place had arranged a sex offenders coffee morning. Bellends.'

Letter to Zero Degrees in Blackheath - re pizza droopage

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 10:34:00 +0000

This isn't the pizza in question

I was in your place on Saturday with my girlfriend and we both had pizzas. Mine was the Italian sausage one and hers was parma ham. They were both very tasty but the bases were simply too thin to function. This is, I feel, a fundamental problem with the pizzas. The middle bit - radius of about three inches - was just mush. Any attempt to pick up a full slice was sheer folly as this middle bit just collapsed, dragging the cargo of the whole slice with it. So I had to eat the middle bit with cutlery - my face burned with shame - before eating the outer half slice by hand.

I mentioned this to a waitress as we were leaving and she said they're supposed to be eaten with a knife and fork. I batted this aside, insisting that pizza should be eaten by hand - at the very least it should be an option.
Thin bases are the only way to go but the problem with the ones we had - and it's happened every time I've been in - is the base is just too thin to pass the fold test. This is where you pick a slice up, fold it in at the edges and the rest of the slice stays erect. There may be a couple of centimetres droopage at the end but that's acceptable.
The pizza was among the tastiest I have ever had but, because of the base, it was rendered merely adequate - a 9/10 effort becomes a 6/10 disappointment.
That said, the pilsner is ace.

More pizza guff

And here

And we are done

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 09:24:00 +0000

Name the year

That's it for me and Everton. I don't go much now anyway but Saturday's pathetic display at Arsenal has finished me off - specifically when Louis Saha was replaced.
Yes, he'd done fuck all but come on - give him something, anything! And bringing on Sylvain Distain means basically you're declaring at 0-0. Oops, and not for the first time.
What made the whole thing doubly annoying was the pub we'd been in pre-match actually had the game on. It's fitting that it was at Arsenal where I finally decided enough's enough. They compare their ticket prices to things like the theatre.
I'm going on Saturday to watch The Ladykillers - tickets were about the same as Saturday (£35) but with the theatre or a concert or whatever you have an idea of what you're getting. You make an informed decision based on reviews, experience, word of mouth.
It's not like that with football. What other part of your life do you pony up real money, knowing that it's going to be shit? You voluntarily do this week after week.
We were predictably insipid on Saturday. And yes, most teams go there and lose but it's different with Everton. We used to swat them aside. And now what - we (ie David Moyes) treat a 1-0 defeat as some kind of success.
Well we all know where we stand now, and I'm done with it. Fuck you Moyes, fuck you Bill Kenwright and chums, and fuck you Dermot O'Leary (whom I just don't like).

Last night's nerd togger - righteous!

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 10:07:00 +0000

Attacking

I've held off LNNT since Nerd12 came out but last night's was too ace to keep to myself.
I've found myslef bumping between divs eight and seven.
Was two points off promotion to div six once with three games to go but lost all three and got relegated.
I tend to bounce straight back though and L story S last night found myself needing a point to stay in div seven. My opponent was Santos and they, like that Russian lot Eto'o plays for, are tricky fast little buggers.
I've only been Everton on live nerding up to now so I never play United, Bayern and the like, but these two seem the pick of the teams at Everton's level.
Anyway I went one up double quick thanks to Osman, but they hit back with three quick goals - each one a lesson in idiocy from nerd Tim Howard - to put me 3-1 down with 25 nerd minutes gone.
So I went for it and switched to my legendary 3-1-3-3 formation (above), with Coleman and Baines either side of Jerjelka, a midfield of Fellaini, Drenthe (left), Osman (right), Cahill pushed forward, and Saha, Anichebe and Magaye up front. Late on Bilyaletdinov comes on for Osman or Drenthe, with Cahill going in their position and him centre, because he's ace at long shots.
I'd hardly had a shot before making the switch but from then on I was all over him with Fellaini pulling one back with a crisp low finish from the edge of the box right on half time.
Second half I blitzed the 'mother' with two goals in 10 nerd minutes. First a Saha header from a Baines corner, then Mugaye slithered through to crash home.
By now my opponent was sliding in all over the show - first rule of nerd togger, don't lose your rag - and I was dancing through at will. Cahill picked up a loose ball on the edge of the box, spun his marker and smashed home to make it 5-3 to Captain Cool.

Thus far and no further

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 14:24:00 +0000

Seriously, just fuck off

Five pounds fucking 50 for a pint of lager! That was the astonishing deal I was bummed with on Saturday eve. I was meeting Mrs Biff for some grub in Shoreditch's trendy 'Shoreditch' and had 20 minutes to kill so nipped for a quick pint.
Found some gaff called the Redchurch Bar on Redchurch street. Looked okay inside, quite dark, lots of deep red furnishings. Gang of girls to the left as I went in, couple of blokes to the right, few people scattered around the back by the bar, to which I headed.
One pint of Sierra Nevada lager ordered and the fella drops the price bombshell on me, prompting the now customary 'how much?!'
He repeated the price and all I could stammer was 'why?'.
And it's a fair question - what possible business has anyone asking £5.50 for a pint? They've not even paused to admire the view from £4 a pint mountain - which is outrageous anyway - they've just hurtled on, busting straight through the previously-theoretical £5 a pint barrier and landed plum 'twixt a flim and six pounds UK.
I bought it like because I didn't want them thinking I was poor or a mingeo, both of which are true.

Fold

The thing with this gaff was, the crowd didn't look particularly well off or even very 'Shoreditch'. And there was at least one student in (I heard him talking about his course) so how can he afford to sup there?
This comes tepid on the heels of being charged £8-odd for a pint of Peroni and a small Baileys at the Hen & Chickens by Highbury Corner - a scandalous amount for two drinks but a bargain compared to the Redchurch deal.
These places are supposed to be - at least nominally - neighbourhood establishments but they're charging the sort of prices people who've visited Scandinavia come back weeping about.
Presumably it's an aggressive move to ensure people like me don't go in places like that. Well that's fine, but eventually more people will start thinking, is this really worth it?
I've lived in London 11 years and I'm braced for the price of most things but if we're seriously saying that a tenner might not be enough to secure two pints then the whole thing's gone to shit. This should be hover-packs-for-all in the future, not here and now.
Anyway the grub at the Hoxton Furnace was dead on - pizzas were v tasty and passed the fold test. Rubbish picture I know. The service was pretty hopeless though. Slow drinks, slow bill, not a huge deal but a bit wearing.

Funster in 'da house'

Then it was off home and a chance to marvel at this idiot's shoes - he was being loud and wacky, even by East London Line standards. I think he was foreign.

Stapes and Browns, where's all the fun

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 10:24:00 +0000

Mayhem

It's easy to forget, under this new insanovision Coronation Street, that Fiz's family used to be funny, and Chesney was very cute.
This was before that small mole started trying to get out of the end of his nose.
But gone are the knockabout larks of yore - even Chez's mate Kirk's been dragged into the abyss lately.
This is a family that, off the top of my head in the last two years or so, has seen Fiz convicted of murder - for which she's just been bailed pending appeal (!) - for a crime she didn't commit. Okay so she might have covered up the body - or was that the other one? But the actual killing was done by her (now late) husband John.
That's Stape, who has killed one person (Charlotte the Smash robot) by caving her in the head with a hammer - whose body, actually she was still alive at this point, he dumped in the rubble caused by a train wreck outside his gaff - and let another (Colin Fishwick) die in his house, before burying him under the knicker factory floor, so he could continue living under John's name, thus allowing him to teach.
The reason he couldn't teach - his old job - under his own identity is he had an affair with a schoolgirl (Rosie) and then kidnapped her - can anyone remember why? So he nicked Colin's identity.
While in prison for at least some of that, and diagnosed with acute mentalness of the cranium, he and Fiz get married. Outside of nick John gets a stalker, and L story S, it's Charlotte.
John and Fiz have a kid which develops a hole in the heart, John also kills Colin's mum to stop her shouting after he confesses to her what he's done (up to that point).
Then Fiz nicks the mum's legacy, meanwhile John is pretending to Charlotte's parents that he (as Colin) was going to marry Charlotte. Chesney susses it so John holds him and Charlotte's parents hostage in the basement for a bit until Fiz - who STILL won't turn John in - rescues them. At some point in all this John had stopped taking his mental pills.
But before that John gets a job digging holes for Chesney's girlfriend's dad Owen - he's only about to dig up Colin! Luckily he gets Fiz to help him sling the body in the canal.
After that she rescues Chesney and the parents before the police turn up and John then nicks his and Fiz's baby. Fiz then gets run over, John comes back the hozzy, gives her the kid, goes to the roof, falls off it and disappears.
Then he comes back a bit later and kidnaps Rosie again before crashing his car with her dad Kevin in hot pursuit. John then dies in hospital but not before he videoed a confession supposedly exonerating his wife of all crimes.
As of last night Fiz was still in nick, but about to be bailed. She's been found guilty of one murder and possibly she got done for nicking the old girl's money, although that bit seems to have been forgotten.
While in nick, Fiz has been accused of being a grass, had her baby threatened, grassed, and bashed the woman who threatened her baby.
And just to round things off about two weeks ago they (the government?) gave the dog Schmeichel (a great Dane - I only just got that) cancer. The dog. Got cancer. This is how you want to get people watching, ITV?
He died last night, but only after Chez had nicked the money his bird's dad had given her to pay the rent, which was late so a bailiff came round, on vets bills and medicinal bonio and the like. Was the rent really bailiff late though?
I think that's about it. Now, is it just me or does that all seem a little far fetched?

Onwards and crudwards

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 10:02:00 +0000

Gone (he isn't mentioned anywhere here you know)

To business. What we saw at Sames' Park on Saturday was Everton's problems simply nutshelled. Can't score goals, can't defend, tippy-tappy it around a bit in the middle to no great effect.
The excellent executioners bong website says we're only three points worse off than the same stage last season, when we went on to finish seventh.
Yes we are, but we're also really shit. I mean, needing-a-priest-to-get-out-of-it shit. We seem incapable of regularly getting the ball and some of our players around the opposition box - it's one or the other. Jack Rodwell's goal shows what can happen if you get people forward.
At the back we can't keep crosses out, and this is where we're letting goals in from. Maybe it's because the full-backs aren't getting any protection - I don't know.
Let's not dignify playing Seamus Coleman on the left with any discussion, but generally he's been poor this season. He works had, and yes he was cheap, but he isn't very good. Running fast is great if you're strictly in the running fast business, but he isn't. He's in the controlling the ball and doing something with it business.
On the other side Royston Drenthe is clearly lively and quick and actually a good player, but he's also an idiot. Prone to wander in, leaving Leighton Baines - our one truly excellent player - on his own. With Drenthe you probably have to budget for one major cock-up a game. Like if your mother was a hen.
Generally the problem seems to be we're going out hoping to get something, rather than forcing things. David Moyes has always been a reactive manager with Everton - rarely changing things early, even if we're playing shit. He's also been generally a conservative one, favouring 4-5-1 most of the time.
It worked well while we had good players but now we don't. Louis Saha - and it's an abject dereliction of duty to leave your team relying on him for goals - is isolated in most games or ends up going out wide to pick the ball up, leaving us with nowt up front.

Goal!

Newcastle had two up front on Saturday and it meant that our centre halfs couldn't settle, whereas we are content to sit back and defend from the halfway line. This can work but wouldn't it be better to have some pressure further up the pitch?
This formation got the best out of players like Mikel Arteta, Steven Pienaar and Tim Cahill, but two of those have now gone and the other one is struggling for form.
Cahill's not scored for Everton since - you'd think this would be easy to find what with that internet and all but it isn't. I think it's about a year. Anyway, coincidence?
We look like a team struggling, not just for form, but for confidence. If we concede one everyone knows there's little chance of us scoring two.
Look at how Newcastle defended on Saturday, they did just enough most of the time. Like against Manchester United we never really looked like scoring - there were few occasions where you'd think, he should have scored.
Newcastle look half-decent but that's about it, we look slow and knackered. They had more than enough for to keep us out.
Moyes has obviously been dealt a shitty hand on transfers but he has to get on with it because if this team gets stuck down the bottom I doubt it has the quality or the oomph to get out of it.
Moyes seems to send them out looking to keep it tight until half time and go from there. He needs to send them out to attack because lately we look like we're hoping to draw, and it isn't working.

This week's top search terms

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 16:04:00 +0000

Ever wondered how other right-thinking individuals end up on the website that lets men breathe out and scratch the bits that don't scratch themselves?
Here are this week's top search terms which landed, well you get the idea:
happy festivus
night club
chucky 1
festivus
gaddafi medals
santiago bernabeu
bernabeu night
big tits ass club dance
ugly kopite

Nick in here, a celebration

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 12:05:00 +0000

Can you guess?

I work with two fellows called Nick. They're both idiots but main Nick has an incredible capacity for blather - one unmatched in any human animal I have encountered.
Steve Martin's rant at the fat fella out of Uncle Buck whose name I forget could have been written for Nick.
Anyway, presenting this week's Nick in here gold (all material is from him, where a conversation ensues it is marked accordingly).

'As soon as you stop looking for something you always find it dont you?'

'If he's having a fag break hell be outside having a fag wont he?'

In conversation with other Nick:
Nick: 'I can't believe its November already.'
Other Nick: 'It is.'
Nick: 'It's incredible.'
Other Nick: 'I know.'

'It's amazing, isn't it?' (This didn't appear to be aimed at anyone or anything)

In conversation with me:
Nick: 'Bless you.'
Me: 'That was a cough, it doesn't count.'
-An hour later-
Nick: 'Bless you' (barely audible, behind his hand and facing into the corner after I sneezed)
Me: 'What?'

'I wonder how much time I've wasted...' (Tailed off at this point - a cry for help? UNHEEDED)

'I've watched every episode of Smallville.'

'I went twice. But in the end I just put it under the door. Ha ha ha!'

In conversation with other Nick:
Nick: 'She goes and moves her car every couple of hours.'
Other Nick: 'Who does?'
Nick: 'Sheila.'
Other Nick: 'Why does she do that?'
Nick: 'It's the meters. A few people do it.'
Other Nick: 'Oh, the meters.'
Nick: 'Yes.'

Everton v Manchester United REPORT!

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 18:43:00 +0000

Takeaway

Manchester United bounced RIGHT fucking back from last Sunday's humiliation at the golden hands of Manchester City by dispatching Everton with minimum fuss.
Everton had a go at it for about 15 minutes and went close, then United scored and Goodison deflated and sagged like Nigella Lawson after her 'best' girdle splits. Does that work? I'm not sure it does.
Anyway half time came and people didn't even bother discussing the match because no one really cares any more, I mean what's the point?
This happened to Everton against United even when we had a half decent team, but now? We've now sold all our best players - Fellaini? Oh fuck off - and signed the Argentinian Ashley Ward as back up for two perma-injured layabouts and a Greek lad who looks slightly embarrassed to be there.
Be honest, have you ever seen anyone look so awkward as Aspostolos Velios after his two goals, which I think make him joint top scorer for the Blues. Fucking two.
There was a - ACTUALLY THIS DIDN'T HAPPEN AS UNITED WERE HAPPY TO LET EVERTON HAVE THE BALL BUT IF THEY'D SCORED A SECOND I THINK IT WOULD HAVE - brief rally at the start of the second half, from the players and the stands, until United popped in the second on the hour, leaving the Goodison support with a stark choice - early dart or stay to boo?
It'll probably stay 2-0 because, if we're honest, it's a result which suits us all - points for them, and at least we didn't get fucked by a team that, horror of horrors, spends money. Ooh, the rotters.
Everton: Howard, Hibbert, Jerjelka, Distain, Baines, Coleman, Osman, Fellaini, Rodwell, Cahill, Saha. He'll have Coleman on the right, Osman on the left and the other three fannying around in the middle with Saha looking like a fella starved of attention 30 yards further up the pitch.
Okay, so Cahill was injured but the Russian came and showed us all what a superb piece of business he was. I've never seen anyone so adept at making sure there was an opposition player between him and the ball at all times.
Also does Fellaini ever pass it forward? You too, Rodwell. Either/or with those two I think.

Everton v Manchester United - PREVIEW!

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 09:21:00 +0000

No chance

Manchester United will bounce RIGHT fucking back from last Sunday's humiliation at the golden hands of Manchester City by dispatching Everton with minimum fuss.
Everton will have a go at it for about 15 minutes, maybe even go close, then United will score one and Goodison will deflate and sag like Nigella Lawson after her 'best' girdle splits. Does that work? I'm not sure it does.
Anyway half time will come and people won't even bother discussing the match because no one really cares any more, I mean what's the point?
This happened to Everton against United even when we had a half decent team, but now? We've now sold all our best players - Fellaini? Oh fuck off - and signed the Argentinian Ashley Ward as back up for two perma-injured layabouts and a Greek lad who looks slightly embarrassed to be there.
Be honest, have you ever seen anyone look so awkward as Aspostolos Velios after his two goals, which I think make him joint top scorer for the Blues. Fucking two.
There'll be a brief rally at the start of the second half, from the players and the stands, until United pop in the second on the hour, leaving the Goodison support with a stark choice - early dart or stay to boo?
It'll probably stay 2-0 because, if we're honest, it's a result which suits us all - points for them, and at least we didn't get fucked by a team that, horror of horrors, spends money. Ooh, the rotters.
Everton: Howard, Hibbert, Jerjelka, Distain, Baines, Coleman, Osman, Fellaini, Rodwell, Cahill, Saha. He'll have Coleman on the right, Osman on the left and the other three fannying around in the middle with Saha looking like a fella starved of attention 30 yards further up the pitch.

How many lists make five? A list, a list, a list and a half...

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 13:08:00 +0000

Lists

Back to the well in a little feature I like to call: Pitched ideas that may or may not have been picked up by magazines a few years ago.

It's a rich vein of material and no mistake, if this sizzling stack of lists sent to the now defunct and much-missed Jack magazine is any guide.

Not sure how many they used but these would have been done in about 2004 and give a fair insight in to the mind of the 30-something male of the day.

I'd not long given up smoking and had recently rekindled a rampant love affair with chocolate (oh! Smarties bars and loneliness...)

And don't forget, Eccles Cake or Egg Custard, while you're here.

Jack Lists

Five National Lampoon’s Vacation things:

Cousin Vicki: “I'm going steady, and I French kiss.”
Audrey: “So? Everybody does that.”
Cousin Vicki: “Yeah, but Daddy says I'm the best at it.”

Rusty: “Oink Oink, my good man!"

Rusty: “Dad, I think he’s gonna pork her!”

Rusty: “So I says to him, I said "Get your own monkey!”

Cousin Eddie: “I haven't seen a beatin' like that since somebody stuck a banana in my pants and turned a monkey loose.”

Clark: “Thanks for the pick me up Eddie.”

Ha ha ha!

Five awful sports brands:

Troop
British Knights
K – Swiss (original five stripes? You’re fooling no one)
Pony
Skechers

Five modern crisp classics:

Yummo!

McCoy’s Thai sweet chicken
Golden Wonder sausage and tomato
Rib n’ Saucy Nik Naks
Bugles – all of them
Sweet chilli Doritos

Five incredible contemporary confectionery treats

Kit Kat Kubes
Mars Delight
Cornetto love potions
Peanut Lion bar
Smarties chocolate bars

Five things you never got for chrimbo:

Fucking A

Big Trak
Millenium Falcon
Diamondback BMX
TCR
Battery-powered car you could sit in and drive

Five 70s rockers you won’t admit you like:

Steely Dan
Electric Light Orchestra
The Eagles
The Doobie Brothers
Peter Frampton

Matt Smith wrote Jet Set Willy

Five great football teams:

Everton 1984 – 1987
Manchester United 1994 – 1999
Liverpool 1976 – 1984
Arsenal 1998 – present
Leeds United 1968 – 1974

Five great Spectrum games:

Jet Set Willy
Skooldaze
Chuckie Egg
Match Day
Attic Attack

Five ace words to say:

Undies
Trump
Blubber
Crud
Balderdash

10 Gatwick airport things:

Roomy

Thinking “you’d better be foreign” at Nike Extravago-shod youths
Departure screens all over the show - but no clock. Anywhere.
An ill-advised wink at the passport control chap
A double brandy
A seven paaanddd brekky
Yanks trying on flat caps
The anxiety of a bearded man going through customs
Stag dos going to Amsterdam, smiling
Stag dos coming in from Amsterdam, smiling nervously
Cavernous disabled toilets

(Not even) the best of the rest

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 08:49:00 +0000

The best

"It's a sign of how far we've come...' is one of new football's most irritating phrases. Kenny 'Kenny' Dalglish said it the other day in reference to drawing at home to a Manchester United XI.
Evertonians said it about us for a bit, but not now.
When we were the 'best of the rest' the underlying fear was, given the lack of dough, what would happen when we fell away. Now we're seeing it.
After the 2009 FA Cup final - this was straight after, in the pub - a pal said it would be the high water mark, and clearly he was right.
But less realistic members of Everton's super hunky support reckoned with just a few tweaks we could still do something.
Those tweaks were generally regarded as getting shut of Tony Hibbert and Leon Osman, widely regarded as being not quite good enough for the mythical 'next level' - in our case fourth.
Of the two, it's Osman's current standing which is interesting. A midfield which once seemed a little over-fed has now shed its two leading creative types - Steven Pienaar and that RAT Mikel Arteta - to leave Osman as arguably the main schemer.
Osman's a fine player, but has looked a bit lost of late, although it could be argued he's never really been that good in the big games.
Marouane Fellaini can be a brilliant player but he's been really off it this season, and he's clearly leaving, so we appear to be preparing to heap more pressure on Osman.
It's a sign of how far we've fallen that he's the creative mainstay of a team that, until quite recently, looked on the verge of doing something.
In fact you might say Osman has now become 'the best of the rest'. You see, kids. This is how the pros do it.

What the deuce?

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 13:53:00 +0000

Moments later the rule book was in shreds

Just having me dinner then (pictured) at the Trafalgar Cafe in Greenwich. Sat at one of those two-seater tables that is only suitable for one person reading the paper.
I was just tucking in to the first act of my mega-sarnie - chicken salad, toasted ciabatta, mayo on side - when this old woman marches up and sits down opposite me. And to make it clear she wasn't marking time she whips out her own paper, forcing me to move mine right to the side and rearrange my food and beverage. There were seats available at more ample tables.
Now I'm all shoved in the corner like an immigrant in a shipping container while she unfolds her Daily Express and takes delivery of a full roast dinner if you please. On a Thursday! The raised eyebrows of the woman on a neighbouring table were but a whisper of the full horror that was unfolding.
I had to eat part two of me sarnie trying not to catch the eye of my companion, lest her withering glance turn me to stone. She probably thought as she'd made it this far in life - at least 80 - there's no point wasting time with excuse mes or general niceties, and I salute her for that. Not a single word was exchanged between us during the 10 l-o-n-g minutes.

Wanker

After that I got to see a clamper in action. I then hung around to see him greet his 'fly' with ill-hidden glee. The wanker.

Why does the sun go on shining?

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 08:55:00 +0000

Dignified

Let's keep this brief. It is my contention that there is a reason things like Jack Rodwell's sending off keep happening to Everton. And it's down to the way the club portrays itself, as the plucky victim.

Liverpool get a few decisions they don't like and what happens? They demand answers from the very overlords of refereeing, because how dare anyone do anything they don't like?

Whereas Everton have been wringing their hands and apologising for making the place look a mess for so long they expect to get the shitty end of the stick, and are rarely disappointed.

That utter gobshite Graham Poll was interviewed on the official Everton website last week. Here's what he said about the pressure the Goodison crowd puts on the referee: "If a decision goes against Everton early in the match the crowd can really get on your case.

"I find referees tend to react in one of two ways - they're either slightly influenced by the crowd and Everton get one or two decisions. The other kind probably dig in and think ‘I’ll show you – you can’t put pressure on me’. Nobody would deliberately go against a team, but subliminally you might."

Now how many times have you seen a referee at Goodison - especially against Liverpool or Manchester United - do the latter? I’ll stick my neck out here and say it doesn’t happen very often at Anfield or Old Trafford (to the home team, obviously).

The only reason I can think of is, it’s not expected to happen, so generally it doesn’t. Opposition teams rarely get penalties at Old Trafford, because it would be 'wrong'.

So how do Everton change things? In the week leading up to a big game David Moyes should be banging on about the need for a strong ref, one who doesn't want to be friends with ‘Stevie’ or ‘Wazza’. He should be pointing out that we've had some appalling decisions in these games – just keep banging on and on and on.

And yes I know there’s something to be said for being stoic and just getting on with it, but we’ve done that and this is what happens. Maybe we should try and play the game, wretched as it is, a bit more.

Because the records don’t show that convention dictated Liverpool throw the ball back to West Ham in the last minute of the cup final. They show the result after Liverpool - quite rightly - played on, Steven Gerrard equalised and Liverpool went on to win the cup.

Do we want to be nice or do we want to win?

Hats off to... Inspiral Carpets

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 13:25:00 +0000

Cool

So uncool they were cool as fuck, the recently-reformed - with new material and tours promised - Inspiral Carpets are one of the best bands this superhunk has ever seen live.
They were cracking value all round - brilliant t-shirts, 'cool as milk' milk bottles, supremely entertaining interviews (including referring to themselves as 'the new young govnors' while digging at the Happy Mondays for guest editing Penthouse, or something) and leaping to the aid of a lad in Coventry charged in 1990 under the 1981 Indecent Displays Act for wearing a 'Cool As Fuck' T-shirt. They made some ace records too.
I first got in to them when Trainsurfing came out on the group's own Cow label. It's still my favourite record. Four ace tunes (Butterfly, Causeway, You Can't Take the Truth, Greek Wedding Song), a nice thick slab of vinyl and a bright blue and yellow sleeve. All for about £3.
My group recorded a demo at Out of the Blue in Manchester, at least partly because Trainsurfing was recorded there. No Nick Garside that day, Adam Lesser I think it was. Nice lad.
The tunes were all fast and catchy, with fairly economic bass and guitar lifted by Clint Boon's keyboards, Craig Gill's machine-gun drumming, and Stephen Holt's vocals. Added to this, they looked like a gang of lads who go the match, which is important to an 18-year-old lad who goes the match.
From there I went backwards and got the Dung 4 cassette - with patronage from the likes of Joe Royle and Cyril Smith ('friends, not my scene') - and a tape of the Plane Crash EP (home taping is killing music).
And that was all they released with Holt and original bass player David Swift, who both left (Holt at least on good terms - I can't find any reference to Swift.) and formed the Rainkings. They released two brilliant EPs on Playtime records - soon to be re-released according to @StephenEHolt on the popular website Twitter.

Masculine

But I digress, Holt and Swift were replaced by Tom Hingley and Martyn Walsh and the next single out was Joe, another cracker with fine work elsewhere on the disc (Directing Traffic, Commercial Mix and Commercial Reign).
Hingley's the better singer but I always preferred Holt. He just sounded more 'normal'. He can hold a tune, no danger there, but his voice really suited those earlier garage-sounding releases. It was heads down, no messing around fast tuneful stuff.
I first saw them live at the Hacienda in 1989, I think when Move grazed the charts. The place was heaving and they were brilliant (supported by the not-bad-at-all Bridewell Taxis) with a mad slide show and the five of them cramped on the Hacienda stage. They were clearly not going to be playing a place that small next time round.
When the first LP, Life, was released on Mute they'd already made the charts with This is How it Feels, and toured the album at bigger gaffs. I saw them at the Royal Court in Liverpool and they were mustard.
The second album Beast Inside was a less 'immediate' affair as Clint Boon mentions in an interview on John Robb's website.
I remember Boon telling (I think) Pete Mitchell on (I think) his ace Piccadilly Radio Saturday aftternoon show that the album represented where they were at the time it was made. But Caravan, and its b-side with religious overtones Skidoo are both crackers.
They continued banging out singles, highlights included the Island Head EP, Dragging me Down, Saturn 5 and I Want You (with Mark E Smith of t'Fall - if you haven't read Renegade, you're failing yourself) and two more albums, Revenge of the Goldfish, and Devil Hopping (named after producer Pascal Gabriel's pronunciation of the word "developing".)

Errant apostrophe alert

And that was largely it, they split up without my realising it in the mid-90s before re-emerging in 2003 with the Cool As compilation, which is ace. If you've not got any of their stuff you could do worse than start there.
The Inspirals never quite had the same caché as their peers but I could never understand why. The Stone Roses first album is great but it sounds dated now, and the Happy Mondays released some real gash along with the good stuff. The Inspirals just carried on releasing consistently good pop music - nothing too clever, but who wants that?
A few questions though:
Why did they change the lyrics in This is How it Feels from the Peel Session version for the album version?
Why did David Swift leave, was it amicable, and what's he up to now?
Did Twitter have any role to play in Holt getting back with the group?
Should I tell Mrs Biff I've got a derby ticket or should I just go anyway then insist I told her, thus planting memory-loss seeds for future schemes?

(I've pinched all the above pics off various blogs so if anyone's distraught by this I'll happily take them down.)

Deadline day, as it happened

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 07:48:00 +0000

Cunt

Wow! Well how was it for you? Another incredible transfer deadline day - or 'season long loan', if you will - is over.

As ever your favourite lifestyle website for top boners was all over the big stories. If you missed any of it, here's what the nation's top Twitter feed revealed yesterday.

Read from the bottom up to get a sense of the how things unfolded, or from the top to take a trip back in time.

All spelling and grammar has been left as is to give you a sense of the urgency and drama we professionals are in the middle of on the day when football teams do the same thing they do for many months of the year, only with more shouting.

AND THATS IT GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY. now, what about emerdale eh?

LAVA #arteta move on hold! delivery of burning torches diverted from goodison to emirates. angry mob mulling options #deadlineday

INCREDIBLE: all Jim Whites declared 'null and void' as of 11pm #deadlineday

SIMMERING: arteta to #arsenal back off again! wenger poos out shoes, eats them again. pat rice! #deadlineday

mikel artetas tea ow.ly/i/gzgS

dont forget #arsenal get till next friday to complete their transfers. #deadlineday

BASSETT: #deadlineday and new years eve to be combined in double-bellend scheme. romans stripped of calender rights, now under sky control

MEFFY: #deadlineday tea=leftover mash (nuked),fish fingers, beans. mine or mikel arteta's? we'll reveal all, after this short break

ICE: arteta to #arsenal is OFF. wenger forced to eat own shoes. more to follow #deadlineday

FLANGER: man eats pig! stock market rallies!

ODDS: #efc chairman kenwright on bus to manc airport with slummy jar. jenny seagrove shrieks 'bill! warrabout the asda?!' #deadlineday

@jimw1 @ianhough jim, i've just sat on me sack. any chance of a shouted RT?

Denis Stracqualursi's name is pronounced 'denny', 'denny la', or 'strazzy' #efc #deadlineday

An evening With Sir Terry Pratchett featuring the same story over and over again. via @londonist londonist.com/2011/08/hot-ti…

VULVA: #brfc face yakubu tapping up probe after trail of chicken carcases found between southport + eewood. RAC 'livid' #deadlineday

PHENOMENALHANDCLAPBAND: #efc swoop for mrs beckford! spurs sign pete beale! shoe hits tree! full story skysports.com/football/ #deadlineday.

CHOMP: jim 'INCREDIBLE!' does toilet toilet live on air after reading out the name of stockports new loan signing. #deadlineday

An evening With Sir Terry Pratchett featuring the same story over and over again. via @londonist londonist.com/2011/08/hot-ti…

THUNDERCLAPNEWMAN: #efc pull out of #lcfc beckford deal, declaring the player to be 'worth more as parts'. mrs beckford 'livid' #deadlineday

SPLASH! man gets cake! more to follow #deadlineday

RADIOACTIVE: #efc sign bendtner from #afc who pay £10m cash with arteta and tim howard going to the londoners. barclays put gun away.

An Evening With Sir Terry Pratchett featuring the same story over and over again. via @londonist londonist.com/2011/08/hot-ti…

SMOKING: source at #cpfc says they're in talks to buy iluv urbone from fc reykjavic. anusor minge (turkey) monitoring #deadlineday

im off for me dinner. for ECSCLUSIVE #transferwindow updates follow @Thomas_Pepper

An Evening With Sir Terry Pratchett featuring the same story over and over again. via @londonist londonist.com/2011/08/hot-ti…

RIPE: #arsenal transfer tzar revealed: jeremyhall.co.uk/wp-content/upl… #deadlineday

SOLAR: #mcfc to buy scotland.turn it into 'a big shed'. scots parliament in emergency overnight session. mars shares soar #deadlineday

biff_bifferson biff bifferson

BANANA COLD: #celtic turn down juventus loan bid for Tiberius weathercock #deadlineday

BLUSHING: SSN reporter bryan swanson's phone explodes live on air, covering vicky gomersall in righteous transfer goo #deadlineday

TEMPERATE: bodyworld doc Gunther von Hagens in talks to land #efc striker louis saha. #deadlineday

NUCLEAR HOT #blackburn sign fc thun defender filipo bosoms (£5m) #deadlineday #brfc

HOT #bcafc in talks to sign #cufc striker brian deckchair (undisclosed) #deadlineday

COLD: #CAFC turn down #gillingham bid for dave pie

EXCLUSIVE: man drives car to work. parks car. goes inside - source, sky sports news

LUKEWARM #spurs offer 'some money and that' for arteta and fellaini. #efc demand jermaine jenas' skincare secret. redknapp:'no dice!'

TEPID: #efc reject #arsenal double swoop for arteta and fellaini. Baines to #mufc £15m REJECTED #deadlineday

EXCLUSIVE: man buys man. details to follow #deadlineday

HOT #watford in talks with #inverness cally over loan for steve archibald's son kareem

RED HOT #efc yakubu and anichebe at #Millwall for talks after 574 quid deal struck VIDEO yfrog.us/n9dh4z

TEPID: #sunderland and #thfc deadlocked over crouch fee. Redknapp blasts envelope's 'paucity'.

HOT: Barnett sign crewes chad French on season long loan. COLD: southamptons Steve blameless turns down move to hated rivals fc Copenhagen

Happy deadline day everyone!

Alan Nixon - an apology

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 16:50:00 +0000

Sort of right

Recently we printed a series of stories which suggested sports reporter Alan Nixon is a 'lumbering fatarse', a 'tabloid chubster', a 'fat prick' and a 'turd' who spouts 'made up transfer bollocks' while wearing a 'meffy leather jacket'.

We now realise that is not the case and apologise unreservedly.

If we gave anyone the idea that Nixon is a 'lumbering fatarse', a 'tabloid chubster', a 'fat prick' and a 'turd' who spouts 'made up transfer bollocks' while wearing a 'meffy leather jacket' we are very sorry.

We accept that Nixon is not, nor has ever been 'lumbering fatarse', a 'tabloid chubster', a 'fat prick' and a 'turd' who spouts 'made up transfer bollocks' while wearing a 'meffy leather jacket'.

It is not the intention of this lifestyle advice site aimed at superhunks and the women who worship them to make anyone think that sports reporter Alan Nixon is a.. well you get the idea.

Sorry.

In other news, course he is. And this.

But what's the spread like - part 3

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 09:14:00 +0000

Ace

Continuing the breakneck tour of the press rooms I've been in we land, spent but happy, at:

Leeds (Leeds, Leeds) United:
This was when Leeds had just got relegated to what is now the Championship but then was probably the First Division. Sorry to the anonymous commenter on the previous two instalments of this who started to cry when he saw I'd got the location of the Fulham press box wrong.
I don't really remember Leeds that well, the press lounge was alright though, and Elland Road is an ace ground.
This was during the Ashes in this country - not last time but the one before - and everyone missed the kick off as they were watching 'snakehips' Shane Warne's last ball. There's probably a Liz Hurley joke there but I can't think of it.
All the fielders were funnelled up either side of the batsman like some guard of honour. Either way, I had some sarnies.

Leyton Orient:
This was after they'd put those flats in each corner of the ground but, I think, before they'd got planning permission for them. So they were all empty and I couldn't really see the appeal anyway. What if you were on nights on Saturday?
The press box was at the back of the stand (presumably the big one) I think, and I vaguely remember it being a turd of a climb to the top. No memory at all of the grub though.

Liverpool:
Top drawer. In front of me as I picked me brief up was rock star Chris De Burgh who had a brief chat with the security guard who then turned to me and said: 'I love his music you know,' in some kind of bizarre confessional/coming out. I had no alternative but to give him the stinkiest of eyes.
Inside it was like Goodison only red and with loads more trophies. There was a nice spread of sarnies and stuff, and a brew. Some old boy sidled up to me, possibly to defend the south side of the buffet as I had a right plateful.
He asked which way my farthing was going today. I replied the other lot. Can't remember who Lipewlfubbleclub were playing but there was a minute's silence (I know) which the crashing halfwit from BBC Radio Merseyside - not Alan Jackson, the other one who presents the football - answered a phone call in the middle of.
And this wasn't on his mobile, this was an old BT phone which he let ring for a bit. I'd made double sure my phone was on silent as I didn't fancy the solemnity being punctured by a tinny version of Z-Cars.
Benitez was the manager at the time, but this was before he went mad.

Muzzies everywhere

Manchester City:
Now you're talking. Hot food before the match, sarnies at half time AND after - a few fellas were filling their pockets. And beer too!
Some people don't like City's ground but they're idiots. The view's good, there's leg room - what more do you want?
The press box is good, quite low down on the same side as the TV cameras are, with the press lounge big enough to cope. The managers do the press conference in a weird chapel-like room (which may be a chapel) where you can often, if you're lucky, see Alan Nixon in his meffy black leather jacket. When he's not making up bollocks transfer stories like. Or maybe he does some of them there - just think, you could see the magic happen.

Previously:
Part 1
Part 2

But what's the spread like - part 2

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 09:12:00 +0000

I like the use of 'the' here

Continuing the rundown on press/malingerer facilities at England's football grounds. Next up, let's have an odd hush for...

Fulham:
Ah, Craven Cottage. Such an odd combination of quaint and prefab.
I always have it in my head that the Cottage is a proper old ground but the reality is three quarters of it is new.
The press lounge and box are in the last remaining old bit, the Johnny Haynes Stand (except the Cottage itself), named after the ground-breaking cabaret act of the same name.
He used to entertain the troops after their submarines docked at Fulham harbour with his monkey juggling act (the twist being he juggled the monkeys) until his death from lead poisoning in 1978.
I had to smooth my way in at Fulham as I'd forgotten to get my press pass request in early and they were full but I went along anyway and, after some whimpering on my part, they let me in.
This was a few years ago and there was still a touch of 'we're just glad to be here' about the club. Here being the Premier League and Craven Cottage I suppose.
Decent spread before the match and at half time (Marksies sarnies if I'm not mistaken, and soup I think) but the press box is stuck away at the back of the stand towards the corner. Like you might with do with a relative you're ashamed of at Chrimbo.

Gillingham:
My word they were friendly. Another of those clubs where two people seem to do everything. Helpful, nice, good spread (sarnies and pies with a choice of brew - most of the clubs in the bottom two divisions offer the same sort of thing), good press lounge, good bogs, good view from the press box - all good. Famously Gillingham has the highest ratio of chip shops to people in the country, 1:3.

Llllllet's get ready to rrrrrrumble!

Huddersfield Town:
I got to the door and was told in no uncertain terms that my attire was inappropriate for the day's event. I had on jeans, some kind of plimsolls, and a shirt. But Huddersfield - certainly at the time - operate a dress code for the press area and just weren't ready for the hard rocking lifestyle my clothes represented.
They had to get the chairman down to give me special dispensation, a mild rebuke and eventually entrance to the stadium. He was right of course, I'd not thought to check and just assumed. But it's his gaff and I should have made sure (something I always did after this).
Anyway once inside it was all very nice. Can't remember much about the lounge but the press box itself is ace - loads of room and split into pairs so you're not surrounded by the brutes.

Ipswich Town:
Absolutely brilliant - ace facilities, ace ground, ace people, ace grub, and beer afterwards. It was absolutely sodding freezing and they gave us these little square things which, when cracked, went all warm. I sat on mine.
Joe Royle was Town manager at the time and he was smoothness personified in the press conference. Just breezed in, sat at the top of the weird stage-like area he was to make his address from, poured himself a glass of red, listened to the question which was already being asked, took a sip and started.
He knew all the local press cats' names and was engaging, funny, and massively likeable. After he finished, Royle and the Ipswich press man headed off down a corridor. I pursued, introduced myself as a reporter and an Evertonian and said: 'I know it didn't end well for you at Everton but that cup run of 95 was one of the best times of my life. I just wanted to say thanks.'
He was slightly taken aback at first but then said: 'Great days weren't they?' And chatted about the moderate blues until the press fella gave him the hurry-up.

Previously:
Bolton to Everton

But what's the spread like - part 1

noreply@blogger.com (biff bifferson) — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 09:31:00 +0000

Stately

The new football season kicks off tomorrow, seemingly to nationwide shrugs. But no matter, it's the perfect time to rate the most important things any togger club can offer - the matchday facilities for those freeloading know-nothng weasels, the press.
I used to move at the runtish end of these fetid circles so here's a few gaffs I've sampled.
Remember they might have changed a lot since. Possibly they've replaced food with beatings, in these chastened times. I'll do the rest next week probably. If nothing else I'll tell you about Standard Liege.

Bolton Wanderers:
As you'd expect from a new-ish stadium, nice and clean. Good size press room, excellent view from the press box, friendly staff. Decent spread I think - can't really remember but I'm getting a strong pie vibe from memory. Stuart Hall let on to me as he was leaving, so any way you slice it I was the day's big winner.

AFC Bournemouth:
Small, tight ground with facilities to match. Staff were spot on, including the fella (I think this was Bournemouth anyway) who wrote all the copy for the programme, took the pictures, designed the pages and proofed them all. I think his wife had left him.
Also this was where I saw the fattest ever former player - worse than Alan Brazil. Can't remember his name but he was so big he had to sit in the aisle (on the stairs) as the seats were too modest for his stature. He was working for local radio I think.

Brighton & Hove Albion:
This was the Withdean and it was bizarre, but I really liked it. It felt more like being at the fair than the match. For those who don't know the Withdean is also a local sports facility, and while the match was going on there were some fellas having a game of squash inside the ground, under the stands I think.
There wasn't enough room in the press box for me (see above) so I watched the match with the home lads who do the tannoy annoucnements in this little hut. It was ace. Nice brew but can't remember the grub.

Charlton Athletic:
Oh the giddy days of the Premier League. Hot food and a nice brew before the match, sarnies at half time. Probably a scotch egg sliced three ways now with the South London Press man demanding first dibs.
Interesting variation on the press box at The Valley, which is an example of how you can re-do a ground but retain some of its character. It's actually the front row of the top deck of one of the stands. Works well and there are these tiny little tellies for you to watch replays on. Oh yes, for all the bellyaching you get in the press about referees missing things, you don't half hear a lot of 'who scored then?' in the trenches.
Only down side at Charlton is the press lounge is in a different bit to the box so you have to go outside and mingle - shudder - briefly with the public. Ghastly.

Chelsea:
Utterly sensational. Ace food, booze, big old press room. Not massive press box and it's low down on the same side as the dug-outs, but there are tellies and that.
Can't remember what the staff were like, I was there with someone else (who was working) so I just stuffed myself and boozed solidly.
But the overall impression was definitely of the big time. For all the bluster and the upsetting the squares with their vulgar money spending, there is a definite air about Chelsea. They belong where they are. Whether they can stay there when the money tree dries up remains to be seen, but the swagger is definitely, justifiably, there.

Colchester United:
They'd just built the stadium when I visited and hadn't even finished all the roads, so it's probably improved a lot since then, but my overall memory is one of traffic jams.
Once inside the ground is like a lot of the other new ones for clubs at that level - tidy. Can't remember anything else but it seemed to be very green.

Crewe Alexandra:
Brilliant. A proper old ground with the press box at the top of the stand you see when the train pulls in (that stand is much higher than it looks when you're climbing up it). Probably the best view of any press box I've been in.
No spread as such but you get a voucher for a pie and a cup of coffee which you pick up from the bit under the stand. That's right, you have to queue with the paying public.

Crystal Palace:
Ace. Utterly sensational pre-match music and a perspex screen at the front of the press box to keep you separated from the general.
Really good eggs working there - the sort of people that keep a lot of clubs running with their goodwill. Some clubs, in fact I reckon most to a degree, take this a little for granted, which is one reason people working in football that aren't players get paid so badly. If you're doing extra for free why would they pay you more? Especially when there are people waiting to take your job?
There seems to be a real spirit of union between those working for the clubs that I've never seen in any other field of work, which I think is born from the knowledge that they're all getting slightly mugged for the 'privilege' of working in football.
Anyway there's a nice spread of sarnies in this little room under the stand (same corner as where the players come in) and you get a brew. Ian Snodin came bounding over after I nodded at him - I think he thinks everyone who lets on is someone he's met in a pub.
Bit of a squeeze for the press conference - they have to redo the room for this, a bit like after the meal but before the 'do' at a wedding. Only with Iain Dowie instead of a bride and their press man as the already brow-beaten groom.

Everton:
Another corker here. Really friendly staff, nice little spread (pies, possibly sarnies I can't remember, tea) in a very small room under the Main Stand at stately Goodison Park.
Like their runtish upstart neighbours Liverpool, Everton's press box is small but functional - and why should they extend the free seats into the paying areas?
The view is exactly the same as any comparable bit of the ground in that there's always some of the match happening behind a colossal pillar, but it feels like a real stadium. One where great things have happened.
The press conferences are in the same room (again, this might have changed) where it's a bit of a squeeze but that adds to the feeling of it being, I felt, slightly more like a chat than a staged event. Quality.