As soon as I read the précis for David Peace’s novel I knew I wouldn’t go far wrong. It’s a combination of ‘Seventies social commentary, and the (temporary) disintegration of Brian Clough’s dream to see football become the reflection of the aspirations and fantasies of the Working Class, every bit as artistic and gritty as a John Osborne play, but with a happy ending as Clough and his Assistant, confidante and talent spotter Peter Taylor, reunited led Nottingham Forest to successive European Cups, something not achieved since by a British coach.

Clough was a Socialist of the old school, often seen marching with and raising money for the striking miners during “The Dispute“, which took some courage given that the Notts NUM broke away, became the hated UDM led by the contemptible Roy Link and were the bed rock of Notts Forest support.

David Peace however, takes us back a decade to when Clough made the seemingly bonkers decision to follow Don Revie into the Leeds United hotseat, this bizarre appointment taking place in August 1974 when that hated Leeds team were Champions of England.

If Clough, fresh from success at Derby which ended in rancour represented mythical the Corinthian Spirit of the People’s Game replete with his Left Wing ethics, then Dirty Leeds were the opposite end of the scale. Corporate and professional, but above all they won at any cost.

The only modern parallel would be to see Arsene Wenger succeed Fergie in the Old Trafford hot seat given the bad blood between the Clubs, although no one could ever accuse Manchester United of not playing the actual football in the right way. It’s the diving and intimidation of referees, introduced into the English game by Don Revie's 1970's Leeds outfit that gets the back up of many neutral fans.

John Giles and Billy Bremner epitomised this ruthless, cheating 1970’s Leeds outfit . Injury feigned, referees intimidated, and the opposition brutally assaulted out of sight of the officials went with every low trick in Revie‘s new book. There was no TV from 58 angles to catch their malignant, cynical approach to the game.

Thus the football world was stunned when Brian Clough, maverick genius, decided he fancied the job.

He lasted 44 days…..

This is the best novel on football that I have read, outstripping even John King’s analysis of the game under Thatcher which is complete with brutal confrontation with the Police and each other in “The Football Factory”, and “England Away”.

David Peace tells the story of Clough’s Elland Road nightmare through the eyes of the main protagonist, day by day as he tries to turn the juggonaught of Uber Professionalism, into a purring machine that reflected the undoubted latent talent at the Club, but alone and without his sidekick and twin Peter Taylor Clough finds fault around him, and takes an unpleasant trip into his own soul….

The style is relentless and simple, no flowery prose just pure grit and dirt, but Peace has turned in a fantastic book for anyone who wants to understand football then, and what it has become now. Brilliant.

The film follows the chronology of the book, and apart from one scene where we find Clough feeling the pressure, drunk and alone in a hotel room this screen adaptation is as far removed from the original oeuvre as it is possible to be.

And there’s nothing wrong with this. Michael Sheen’s creation is jovial, self confident, funny and above all likeable and idealistic about the game he loves.

Whenever I see the name Timothy Spall linked with a production I can be assured of quality and as Peter Taylor we get an insight into what made Brian Clough tick.

This is a positive and uplifting film and a reminder of what Clough achieved, and in the modern era Phil Brown has it within his grasp to do for the community of Hull what Taylor and and his maverick Boss did for the people of Derby and Nottingham. Giving us our pride back after all the shit that has come our way from the Tories and Big Business.

The Pied Piper had a profound affect on me as a child, and along with the Diary of Anne Frank helped me to understand some of the mindless actions of humanity towards each other. But like everyone else in this life I will never truly work out why we act in such unspeakable ways, and find such a capacity to hurt each other.

But the Pied Piper, like a Life Inside is a triumph of hope over fear and demonstrates what goodness each of us is capable of if we allow ourselves to rise to the challenge.

Shute’s story revolves around a bereaved Civil Servant who has just lost his son and hopes to escape his un acknowledged grief by fishing alone in the Jura part of the Alps.

It is May 1940 and the Phoney War is brought to a shattering end with the German invasion of France and the Low Countries meaning the John Howard, an archetypal repressed Englishman, must flee. He is persuaded against his better judgement to take two children with him, having no idea how to interact with them.

Events overtake them with alarming speed, and a series of encounters leave Howard with a motley assortment of waives and strays, culminating in the rescue of a Jewish orphan resulting from a deal with a Nazi Officer who gives them passage across the Channel.

Howard learns so much about himself, and acknowledges his regrets about his own son in the meantime.

I was doing my random letter game in the library to select a novel and when S came up, and I spotted this book on the shelves my heart leapt and I remembered what a great book this is, and what a genius of a storyteller Nevil Shute really is with his ability to weave gentle prose into such a profound vehicle for his themes of loss, separation, repression but ultimately salvation brought about by reaching out to our fellow travellers in this life.

Erwin James makes no excuses in his collection of Guardian columns A Life Inside, nor does his seek pity or indulge in self justification.

But what he does do is coldly and rationally document what goes on inside our prison system.

It is brutal, nasty and disgusting that we treat people like this, something I have had brought to my immediate attention over the last couple of months.

If you want to understand why we have the largest prison population in the democratic world (outside the US), and the highest rate of recidivism then read this and watch Holloway (ITV1 9pm Tuesdays).

Despite all this Erwin James is living proof that investment in lifers and the Probation Service does work.

10 % of the Probation Service in Yorkshire and the Humber is to be dispensed with in budget cuts it was announced on the BBC this week.

You couldn’t make it up.

An amazing year for film continues with three very different, but very interesting offerings viewed so far this month.

Bronson is a creative tour de force and Tom Hardy is outstanding in the lead role and I fully expect to see his name mentioned in dispatches when the Gong Season comes around.

I expected this film to be a collage of prison violence but director Nicholas Winding Refn instead opts for an analysis of the Bronson psyche through the medium of the main protagonist presenting his life to a fantasy music hall audience, the main action taking place in flashback.

We are introduced to a guy whose brain is quite clearly wired up wrongly, and whilst there is no excuse for Bronson’s actions one wonders if a more palliative approach when he began to exhibit bizarre behaviour would have produced a better outcome, and saved the tax payer a whole lot of money.

Instead brutal treatment escalated Bronson’s sense of injustice and then a prolonged spell of control via drugs was suddenly ended, he was released but offended again in a rather pathetic way which was the catalyst for his spiral and current infamy.

I spend one morning a fortnight in prison and Jack Straw should hang his head in shame that he hasn’t forced the Treasury to allow him to spend the money on what he knows, and is on record as saying needs to be done.

We have the highest prison population and the greatest recidivism rates in the democratic world after the USA. And it’s not hard to see why when you listen for a couple of hours to the prisoners about what goes on inside. It just isn’t right in a civilised society.

The picture is in many ways an homage to A Clockwork Orange and I sincerely hope that it prompts some of the same reflections about where we are going as a society.

The International is a good old fashioned spy film set to the backdrop of a corrupt bank making dodgy arms deals whilst enjoying the protection of powerful establishment figures.

The pace is steady enough to allow contemplation of the motivations of the characters, but hots up nicely when necessary and there is a fab shoot ’em up

scene near the denouement of a thoughtful but not preachy political action thriller.

Clive Owen is well, er Clive Owen but  I have yet to see him in a film where I haven’t been impressed by his performance, even Children of Men was rescued by his understated but somehow captivating screen presence.

Kate Winslett could have quite easily netted the Best Actor Oscar for Revolutionary Road as her performance here is equally as good as her fantastic portrayal of a former Nazi War Criminal in the Reader.

The subject is the story of a marriage, and if you allow yourself to be open to the themes then you will see that Sam Mendes and Richard Yates have a deep understanding of the dynamics of this, the most important relationship you will ever have. It proves to be uncomfortable viewing in places, but if you are honest you can relate very well to some of the situations.

The story is un important but the chemistry between Di Caprio and Winslett makes this a wonderfully  captivating piece of cinema.

I refuse to let the negatives ruin what will live with me forevermore as one of my best football experiences.

We dominated this game for large stretches and made Arsenal look ordinary despite the array of talent on show for the hosts.

Nick Barmby scored on 13 minutes and I found myself rolling around the on the floor of the disabled balcony in the away section in sheer joy shouting, “Just when we say “can it get any better?” then it bloody well does!” Drink had been taken I admit, but it just goes to show what a mad twelve months it has really been for us Tigers fans.

We held on in some comfort and had it not been for the cretinously incompetent dweeb that is Mike Riley, we would have won this game.

How he allowed Arsenal’s winner just defies belief and goes to prove the big Clubs always get the decisions. We were laughing by the end, such was his one eyeness but nothing, but nothing was going to ruin such a magical night.

We went out, gave it a right good go and partook in an exciting game in which only luck, and a fantastic flying save from a Geo free kick denied us a place at Wembley.

I loved every single minute, it was a joy and a privilege to be there with my home town team mixing it with Europe’s best in an incredible stadium.

Which makes what happened between Brian Horton and Cesc Fabregas all the more hard to take.

Horton is Mr. Football having seen and done it all. Mr. Fabregas, if it is proved that he spat at City’s Assistant Manager, is the epitome of the decadent, spoilt nature of a small minority of top pros who believe, and are often told that their puerile behaviour is never wrong.

“I categorically deny that I spat at anybody after the match. I have never done this in my whole career on the pitch, so why would I do it when I am not even playing?"

So what’s all this about then eh, Cesc?  

Hull City: Myhill, Ricketts, Gardner, Zayatte, Dawson, Ashbee (Hughes 46), Barmby (France 76), Geovanni, Fagan, Manucho, Halmosi (Mendy 67).
Subs Not Used: Duke, Garcia, Folan, Featherstone.

Despite a series of self inflicted cock ups that included getting the departure time wrong by half an hour (I realised with 12 minutes left before the coach left Walton Street, we arrived, red faced three minutes late and endured the compulsory ironic cheering), having no cash or food, and every parents nightmare of losing a young child in a crowd, this was a great day as the Airlie Birds made it five wins in a row.

It is a sign of the blood lust and desire for news worthy child related disaster whipped up by the media that, despite being a wishy washy lefty my reaction when Conor and I got separated quickly degenerated to the position that he had been snatched. Stupid and irrational, but it happened all the same.

I told myself that this is Yorkshire, we look out for each other here and especially in the credit column was that this was a rugby league crowd, thus a large section of the spectators are women and would notice a child on their own and crying, which is how the situation was resolved. But for five minutes I was demented by fear and panic. This is perhaps a superficial and spurious remark but I fleetingly had some idea of how the McCann’s must have felt….

This trip is what Conor wanted for his sixth birthday and how Hull FC delivered. We were quite brilliant and every player seemed inspired and confident to try things but from a base of doing the basics very, very well.

Yeaman and Craig Hall were especially imaginative in the way they used the ball, and Horne was scintillating on the break, great feet and quick hands making Thorman’s job of running the midfield a doddle.

We are up there with Leeds and above Saints on merit, and only Celtic could have been considered a banker at the start of this season.

Odsal has a great atmosphere and I enjoyed being on a terrace for a change.

Spring sunshine, a great game of footy and the company of my wonderful, intelligent and funny son. Not a bad life, all things considered.

Hull FC: Hall, Calderwood, G. Horne, Yeaman, Briscoe, R. Horne, Thorman, Dowes, Berrigan, Cusack, Manu, Tickle, Radford. Replacements: Houghton, Lee, Moa, Thackray.

After the Blackburn debacle I was definitely of the opinion that City were doomed, and after all it was to be just one season in the top flight.

Cue a scrappy and embarrassingly lucky victory in injury time at Craven Cottage, plus a point in this very entertaining encounter and all is well….

The more I know, the less I understand football. We were absolute trash at Fulham but that old truism about confidence and momentum came to pass as Manucho did the business. Three points. Palpable relief. Monkeys off backs and various other clichés.

Thank goodness Phil Brown reads this blog. Well how else do you explain his tactical changes?

In came Fagan and Cousin, Kilbane reverted to left back, Zayette went into midfield, Giovanni played in the hole and Gardner started in the back four which resulted in a more fluid, attacking attitude allied to solidity at the back. Newcastle barely had a sniff and but for a moment of hesitation from the defence we would have won this game at a canter.

But we were profligate at the business end. Mendy was the prime culprit as, breaking the offside trap he bore down on Harper’s goal but instead of either finishing with a shot himself or squaring for a free running Manucho, he allowed the defender to nick the ball away.

Pluses were the tightness of the back four who performed as a unit, which takes the responsibility of eternal match saver off Turner’s shoulders, and the shield provided by Ashbee and Zayette which allowed Geovanni full reign to express himself, and Fagan the right to run like the wind.

It all came together in the 10^th minute when Geo picked up a ball on the halfway line, threaded the perfect through ball for Fagan who galloped to the by line, produced an inch perfect cross for the Brazilian to finish with a header.

You beauty, a memory of sublime football that will forever stay in my mind no matter what happens and I can now enjoy the surreal event of going to Arsenal as an away fan with a less febrile brow than existed after Blackburn.

Hull City: Duke, Ricketts, Turner, Gardner, Kilbane, Mendy (Barmby 80), Ashbee, Zayatte, Geovanni, Fagan (Garcia 70), Cousin (Manucho 54).
Subs Not Used: Myhill, Dawson, Hughes, Halmosi.

Att: 24,914

This song is the truth, stylishly packaged and delivered, but the truth non the less about what it is like to be 23, erudite and intelligent in 2009’s UK.

I had a long conversation with a girl of Lily’s age, a person for whom I have the greatest respect, packing a fearsome intellect and a sense of what it means to be a contributor to Society at the sharp end and with no ulterior motive abroad, a pure example of altruism.

We discussed the lyrics of this track at some length and it soon became apparent that Lily has hit the nail on the head and it shames me to admit that this view of the world has become current under a Labour Government.

The album is fantastic. Fresh and thought provoking. If you listen to it with an open mind you may just learn something, and become able to challenge yourself to listen to the rattle and hum of modern life.

"It might be enforceable in a court of law, this [pension contract], but it is not enforceable in the court of public opinion, and that is where the government steps in. Sir Fred Goodwin should not count on being £650,000 a year better off, because it is not going to happen."

What a total embarrassment to politics, and the Labour Party in particular Harriet Harman really is.

A stupid, immature and self serving statement, but no surprise given her abysmal track record from someone who puts her own needs way before those of the Party she is meant to serve.

The intention is clear. Grandstanding to the Left of the Party in the hope that if we lose the Election then it will put her in good stead with the grassroots in any leadership contest.

It would suit her vainglorious ego if we lost as this is the only way she is ever going to satisfy her cringing ambition to be Party Leader, as her atrocious and gaffe laden career in Government could never see her rise to the top job whilst we are in power.

Let’s be clear about this. The issue of Goodwin’s pension is classic distraction politics, and a blatant attempt to muddy the waters when the real issue should be why is the Government in a state of paralysis, seemingly impotent or un willing to come up with concrete solutions for this terrible mess?

We are exposed to appalling risk with the Banks, but because Brown has lacked the decisive edge to Nationalise, we have no real leverage. Responsibility without power.

Gordon Brown should come up with a radical programme of action, put it to the country to expose the Tories, and then get on with doing the job emboldened by the mandate from the electorate.

Such a course of action would give the PM the necessary boost to his self confidence, which seems to be lacking perhaps due to the fact that he was given the Premiership rather than having earned it via the ballot box.

He could start by sacking Harman, the mean minded Jackie Smith, who when the country is suffering has no idea why folks have the hump about her expenses, and the patently disloyal David Milliband.

Alan Johnson and Jack Straw need to be in front of the cameras more, and a re call for Milburn and Blunkett would give much needed gravitas to the Front Bench.

Harman’s statement is appealing to the politics of envy and denunciation. She makes no reference to the fact that £30 billion has been poured into Public Sector pension funds whilst the private sector is just meant to take the hit, giving the impression that the State Sector is pulling the ladder up, and anyone else is left behind.

Why did Phil Brown leave his four strikers on the bench?

Why did Garcia, in a match where we could have all but sealed our Premier League status, start as the lone front man?

Why was the Australian then forced to play wide left and then at centre half?

Where were the tactics that got us up to third in the table?

Why are we playing so many people out of position?

Why, when Kilbane is patently not up to the job, or bothered about playing for City does the Manager favour him over the rejuvenated Halmosi?

Why doesn’t Brown know his best eleven?

Why did he sub Giovanni when he was having his best game in an age?

Why did Brown go on KCFM and openly accuse the Brazilian of, “thinking his is bigger than the Club”, and go on to threaten him with disciplinary action?

Why did he go on to slag him off even more on the BBC TV interview?

Why do Bernard Mendy, Daniel Cousin and Kevin Kilbane think it’s ok not to close down the opposition, or try and regain possession when we are losing?

Why is the team going out onto the Park paralysed with fear?

Why does the Manager criticize players in public, Matt Duke was today’s victim?

Why is it that despite my protestations for the last thirty odd years that I would simply enjoy one season in the top flight even if we lost every game, do I feel physically sick before every match?

Why, at the tender age of 40, and given all that has happened to me inmy life does football still have the ability to hurt so much?

Why indeed.

Hull City: Duke, Doyle (Fagan 67), Turner, Zayatte, Dawson, Mendy, Ashbee, Marney, Kilbane (Cousin 53), Geovanni (Barmby 53), Garcia.
Subs Not Used: Myhill, Halmosi, Manucho, Gardner

Att: 24,612