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9月28日 Death Proof (2007) Dir Quentin Tarantino Hull CineWorldStuntman Mike, played in a brilliantly understated manner by a rugged Kurt Russell, gets his kicks from engineering spectacular car smashes from which he walks away in reasonable shape due to his Death Proof stunt car, but his victims (always women) are well and truly splattered all over the highway and beyond. But has he bitten off more than he can chew when he unwittingly takes on a girl petrol head and her insane stunt girl side kick (Zoë Bell) ? I think Quentin Tarantino is one of the best writer/directors of the modern era with a great ear for everyday dialogue in bizarre settings. The scenes between John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson where they muse on matters from the merits of Chicken Burgers, to the Meaning of Life whilst on the way to “whack” uppity debtors, make Pulp Fiction one of the best films of the last twenty five years. In addition the action sequences plus the use of choreography and music make for pulsating new takes on human conflict whilst his use of unusual and imaginative photographic techniques always make a Tarentino film feel fresh and exciting even if the plot lines ( as in Kill Bill) are a bit too simplistic. It never matters because as a director he always delivers a film that is fun and keeps you engaged. And that is my main disappointment with Death Proof. The second of the two separate stories involving Stuntman Mike and his crazy car contained a section of two scenes where the dialogue, although reasonably entertaining was actually quite pointless and I found myself thinking; “For Gawd’s sake cut to the chase!” Literally in this case. But the chase was well worth it, and I would class the denouement of this picture as one of the best action car chases I have ever seen. Zoë Bell must have a screw loose, as she did all the mad stunt scenes such as hanging on to the bonnet of the car at insane speeds, all herself and her CV of stunts on IMDB is quite something to behold. French actor Julie Delpy has this to say; I hate horror films in which women he treats like shit," says the star of Before Sunset. "That whole Tarantino thing about beating up women and killing them and chopping them up. Just because he has the mind of a 12-year-old….”The whole point is that Mike is a useless inadequate who hates women, and is riven with self loathing. Hence there is a scene where he receives a lap dance as part of a dare on behalf of the girl characters, but there is no doubt in the mind of the viewer who is in control and who is exploited. I believe that Quentin Tarantino is actually sending up the negative and exploitative portrayals of women in Cinema, as Stuntman Mike is exposed as a cowardly loser when presented with strong women as opponents who are fighting back and regaining control. Tarentino is often accused of misogynism because of his portrayals of women, but they are usually strong, heroic and come out on top, so I would like the PC brigade who probably wouldn’t see his films anyway, to crawl away and take their pathetic self loathing with them. This not his best film (it has a chequered history involving being spilt into two separate pictures) , but as usual Tarantino delivers a stylish and fun film with some brilliant action, even if the pace is a bit variable. 9月27日 Hull City 0-4 Chelsea. Carling Cup Round Three.Beaten But Not Disgraced.Frustrating sums up my feelings on this game. If Folan or Windass had been up front instead of the lightweight and ineffectual McPhee, supported by a creaking and unfit Henrik Pedersen, then I feel the one of the three clear cut chances we created would have been taken to either take the lead, or restore parity. Then Delaney chose the presence of Sky and the football media to have an absolute stinker. Firstly he rushed out and over ran a Chelsea runner on the right flank, who then had an age to pick out the impressive Scott Sinclair, and the youngster finished with a perfectly placed first time shot. Just after the break Chelsea killed the game as a contest when Delaney switched off for a split second to allow Kalou to get in front of him. The Irishman, attempting to clear, could only steer a header past Myhill. Chelsea did enough and their quality on the ball was the difference, as no one needed a second touch and when in possession the Cup holders were always in control and had options for a pass. I very much enjoyed shouting mindless abuse at Ashley Cole, an activity to be abhorred under normal conditions, but I was more than happy to make an exception. The guy is pond life for reasons that would take all day to explain. Here is a flavour; “The phone rang. It was my agent. When he told me that Arsenal were only prepared to offer me a contract worth £60,000 a week, I had to pull the car over. I was shaking with rage at such a derisory offer”. Where to even start with that one? Former Gooner Steve Sidwell, who left with the good will of everyone at the Club impressed in midfield for Chelsea, and although he was only up against the likes of Ashbee, he completely ran the show and possesses and excellent football brain, completing a dominating performance with a superb drive for the third goal creating power with hardly any back lift. Great technique and whilst I understand Wenger‘s reasoning it‘s shame he never got a real opportunity for the Gunners. Okocha produced a wonderfully struck free kick near the end, but flitted in and out of the game and crucially for me, he offered not one sign of leadership to the rest of his colleagues. Silly little flicks please the crowd but produce nothing, and if he persists someone will break his leg for such misplaced arrogance. Overall Chelsea were there for the taking given all the strife at Stamford Bridge, a sell out vociferous crowd and a filthy North Sea wind, but the lack of confidence and quality allied to poor tactics (McPhee and Pedersen should have swapped places in attack) meant that City never really came close to the upset that caused this game to be the fixture if the round. City Line Up. Myhill, Ricketts, Turner, Brown, Delaney (Dawson 53), Okocha, Ashbee, Livermore, Elliott (Garcia 53), McPhee, Pedersen (Featherstone 73).Subs Not Used: Woodhead, Hughes. Att: 23,543 9月26日 Rough Ride By Paul Kimmage (1990, revised and updated 2006)Mention the names Sean Kelly, Sean Yates, Martin Earley, Robert Millar and of course Stephen Roche and I am transported back to the ’Eighties and the tradition in our house of naming a Sportsman of the Week. This was a serious matter, and always involved a detailed discussion of the various candidates and as the only mainstream sports not followed were horse related activities and motor racing, this left a wide range of achievements to choose from, these names were popular for their many triumphs in such a gruelling sport. I first came across cycling during the summer of 1979 when we witnessed in Co. Kerry the Tour of Ireland, which along with Rás Tailteann is the most prestigious road race in Ireland’s cycling calendar. I remember being amazed at the speed and control of the riders plus the size of the support teams with all the cars and vans following in a mass convoy. Then in 1981 the Milk Race came to Hull, entering the City down Boothferry Road, and then completing a circuit of the City centre finishing outside Paragon Station on Ferensway. The sprint finish looked like a terrifying affair, one false move and the whole peleton would have come crashing to earth at about forty miles and hour. The race leader coming in was non other than Paul Kimmage, now a famous sports journalist who penned the remarkable biography of Tony Cascarino, and the frankly woeful effort by Andy Townsend which makes Mike Atherton look like Muhammed Ali in the personality stakes. Rough Ride documents Kimmage’s career in cycling which saw him become Irish Amateur Champion in 1983, which he followed up with an impressive sixth place in the World Amateur event. After appearing at the 1984 LA Olympics, Kimmage went to France and joined the professional ranks during the Golden Age of Irish cycling, which culminated in Roche winning the 1987 Tour de France, and Ireland winning the UCI World Road Race Championships in the same year when Kimmage teamed up with Roche, the legend that is Sean Kelly (winner of numerous Classics including the prestigious Paris Nice Race a record seven times in a row) and Martin Earley who in any other era would have been the Irish number one and a major celebrity due to his Stage wins in the Giro Italia and the Tour de France itself. For myself I loved the spirit of competition and the back breaking courage of the riders, and I imagine any Irish father whose son showed promise would have been made up to see his son join the peleton. Not now. This year the Tour started in London and as it was to pass directly in front of one of my Dad’s childhood homes in Kent, our interest was re kindled and Eurosport was on all day to follow the action. But then I was reminded why I had fallen out of love with the sport when two of the leading riders, both disputing the Maillot Jaune, were dismissed from the race. Alexandre Vinokourakov and Michael Rasmussen were both heavily implicated in doping, the Kazak testing positive and the Dane suspended by his team for missing tests and going AWOL from the Inspectors, thus the scandals of the ‘Nineties which wrecked the sport in the minds of the Public were back with a vengeance, and I could hardly bear to read William Fotherington’s brilliant Guardian dispatches from the front line as his whole sporting world seemed shattered by the scandals. What did it for me was the sheer arrogance of David Millar when he held the King of the Mountains jersey on this years Tour. For me this would have been a major source of celebration for a Brit to attain such a prestigious position, but I was filled with revulsion watching the Press Conference. He had served a two year doping ban and showed not one jot of humility, shrugging it off as an occupational hazard. He still uses the same Doctor. What more needs to be said. I gave up and have no idea who prevailed by the end of the race. I would never encourage my son to become a cyclist in the same spirit that I wouldn’t want him in the Armed Services. Paul Kimmage’s book Rough Ride tells the story, warts and all of his four or so years in the peleton, which included two stints riding the Tour de France, and all the various Classic races on the calendar. Behind the glamour of the race lies a hard and badly paid life where you are the slave for the team, and wholly dependent on the Sporting Directeur for your livelihood. The weird thing with pro cycling is that you have to follow team orders I what is essentially an individual sport, and one of the main jobs of the lesser riders (of which Kimmage was one) is to protect and nurse the number one team member through a race, stage by stage to the bitter end. This inevitably leads to a great deal of friction and ill feeling, and it is clear that it is a very solitary life where you have to watch your back 24/7. Despite this, Kimmage tells heart warming stories of comradeship and shared suffering during some of the worst conditions in any sport. Then comes the part that saw Kimmage effectively expunged from the sport on his retirement in 1989. Drugs. He recounts in a detached manner what he saw. The injections and pills which some of his comrades relied on, some to get through the day, and others to make the difference between nearly man and winner. The revelations are not sensationalist and crucially Kimmage makes no value judgements, nor does he name names for the sake of it, but the message is clear. Then, and now cycling is riven with systematic drug abuse and until it is truly clean, it is not a real sport in the true sense of the word as the ability of your medic, and not your natural athleticism is the difference. A depressing but necessary read which was updated for the modern era as Kimmage revisited the Tour in 2006 to see what had changed. The answer? Nothing. Just that teams are more professional about cheating. 9月25日 It's Free World (2007) Dir Ken Loach C4 Monday 9PM.Thirty three year old single mother Angie, played brilliantly by new comer Kierston Wareing, is sick to death of making money for bucolic sex pests employers, and decides she can do just as well on her own acting as a recruitment agent for Eastern European labour. As usual Ken Loach and his screen writer Paul Laverty have their collective finger on the pulse of the under belly of Britain, the part that the politicians, no matter what their ideological bent, want kept from view so as not to spoil the idyll of full employment, record spending on health and education plus the most stable economic conditions since the ‘Sixties. When it comes to certain issues such as the BaE deal with the Saudis which the SFO wanted to investigate, but Tony Blair blocked due to the “National Interest“, I am inclined to roll my eyes, agree that it’s wrong and immoral whilst at the same time thinking we have to sup with the Capitalist devil to implement our programme in Government to protect and emancipate the most vulnerable members of British Society. But, as Ken Loach points out for a myriad of reasons we can’t just ignore the despicable trade in people which, in part is a contributory factor in the overall economic ambience on which the last ten years success has been built. Here we are dealing with real people and their families, not just bits of paper and money. The disgraceful exploitation of vulnerable people from around the globe is a canker in our midst that should, and must be rooted out. Angie starts with some decent intentions and is keen to portray herself as a go getter, who despite an absent partner and a battle to keep her son on the rails is doing something positive to better herself. She is delusional, believing that she is giving hope and opportunity to impoverished people from former Communist, turned EU States. But, as Government surveys show on a consistent basis it is not only the poor, but very often Graduate Professional types who end up working the menial, and blue collar jobs here, as they pay more than the former nationalised sectors back home such as medicine, education and Local Government. And who can blame them for taking their chances. Good luck to them. So instead of these States being empowered to get on their economic feet, we are denuding them of their most important resource; educated and motivated young people. Thus all that happens is that wages are driven down in the UK and Ireland, Health and Safety becomes optional, the migrant workers are subject to 21st Century Rackmanite Land Lords, and sometimes even the best employers unwittingly exploit their people claiming they are “grateful” to work horrific hours, and have a “tremendous work ethic”. These were the same problems endured by the Irish in the 19th and 20th Centuries as, starved of opportunity at home due to chronic and deliberate under investment by the British, wave after wave of Irish Labour came to the UK to be exploited and patronised with the “good worker” label. What the EU should be doing is investing in the infrastructure of these Nations, and subsidising their high fliers to stay put to build strong economies for the future which will benefit us all, as increased wealth in the Eastern Bloc means more markets for services provided in the West. The Farming Industry is subsidised to the hilt and would collapse tomorrow if EU money were withdrawn, so the precedent is there and many would say that these people have suffered enough under the yolk of Communism and deserve a clean break with the past instead of being the modern day work horses; flogged into oblivion to create our decadent, image and shopping obsessed way of life. Angie starts off with the aim of only employing workers with papers, but she and business partner Rose are soon lured by the opportunity of a fast buck by providing illegals and matters soon spiral out of control when the main Gang Master bails out leaving Angie with unpaid workers followed by a busted jaw and threats to her son. And as for the workers… the conditions are real, horrible and the subject of a brilliant Photography Exhibition; “Slave Britain” currently showing at Holy Trinity Church, Hull until October 14th. C4 showed this in the 9PM slot. Good luck to them for showing a mass audience the truth and as for Ken Loach; keep educating us so that Society can never say; “If only we knew”. 9月24日 The Brown Bounce Continues. The Labour Party is in Rude Health.“Gordon Brown will be an effective leader, if a bit dour, but does that matter to the British people if he delivers on what he says? Blair has his own style which it seems voters are a bit weary of, so Citizen Dave’s smoothy image may end up working against him in the long run if Brown can convince people it’s what you actually do, rather than the style in which you say things that counts.” D. M. Rathbone September 2006.And so it came to pass…. Normally I have the political instincts of Michael Foot and the Labour Party Manifesto Team of 1983 (The Longest Suicide Note in History), but for once the old antennae were spot on. Terrorism, the floods, foot and mouth and now the Northern Rock fiasco have combined to test Gordon Brown’s mettle with no time for a few leave alone’s to see what the wicket is doing, to use cricketing parlance. Straight in at the deep end, facing a one on one with the opposition’s striker in the first minute. Just to mix the metaphors even more. And the Public like the cut of his jib. Calm, collected and surprisingly collegiate in his approach. The bringing in of the Blairite Young Turks such as David Miliband to senior posts, and the announcement of bold, fresh policies has resulted in unprecedented Party unity which saw the Tories thrashed into third place in both recent by- elections, the sort we were winning at a canter mid Parliament even at the height of in the Thatcher Years and already Citizen Dave is coming under attack from the various factions in the Tory Party who, like we did in the ‘Eighties, seem to think that “core values” are immovable objects and set in stone. We had our various volte face moments on issues such as Europe and Public Ownership when we realised, ten years too late, that the world had indeed moved on and it was us, not the electorate that were wrong. The Tories must be absolutely at their wits end, as the latest polls put the Labour Party EIGHT points clear. At this stage of their period in power we were sweeping all before us and this resulted in Thatcher being dumped due to being an electoral liability. As it happens, we weren’t ready but the parallels regarding the polls must be creating mayhem at Tory HQ. They are further away than ever from taking power. Marvellous. I’m agnostic regarding the prospect of a General Election as either now or in the Spring I fully expect to see us returned to power with an increased majority. The Callaghan analogy is not valid as Brown presides over the most successful Government in Post War History, is respected by the public precisely because he is NOT Tony Blair (hence the feeling of change with no risk attached), and the Opposition are a pathetic rabble. Bring it on, whenever that may be. 9月23日 Shoot 'Em Up. (2007). Dir Michael Davis. Hull CineWorld Whilst waiting for a bus in a seedy part of town, Mr. Smith (Clive Owen) is called upon to deliver a baby in the midst of the mother of all shoot outs. His troubles are only just beginning….
This is a total no brainer of a film in the style of Death Sentence but, and this is the crucial bit, it a rip roaring comedy of high intensity and non stop shooting. A riot of a film in every sense, so the jokes and “lame” dialogue which is frequently groan worthy, are entirely intentional and makes for a brilliant hour and a half of fun complete with a heavy metal sound track which will earn Lemmy a few extra Special Brew tokens in his dotage for the usage of Motorhead’s piece de resistance, The Ace of Spades. Presidential hopeful, and vehement gun opponent Senator Rutledge has a terminal condition that can only be overcome by special blood from “farmed” babies, and as it happens Smith is the protector of the last of these infants. The only slight problem is that goons galore led by the psychotic Hertz (Paul Giamatti) who is in the pay of the arms lobby (or is he?) will go to any lengths to eliminate Baby Oliver. Cue mind boggling stunts, superbly choreographed shoot sequences, mad car chases and you have the perfect action comedy, and Shoot ’em Up is a fresh and original take on this genre. Our old friend Peter Bradshaw in the Guardian said; “ it's ultimately wearyingly crude and calculating.” Writer/ director Michael Davis HAS done a good job then, as Bradshaw, once again, proves that he is a po faced killjoy who more often than not, just doesn’t get it regarding films like this.9月21日 Wolverhampton Wanderers 0-1 Hull City. The Ian Angus VerdictI reserve judgement regarding the recent goings on a Walton Street, as record amounts of cash have been splashed by Phil Brown on behalf of Paul Duffen and the new regime, but the acquisition of 34 year old Jay Jay Okocha, who hasn’t played any real competitive soccer for two years, for the king’s ransom of £15K a week doesn’t fill me with a great deal of confidence in the Manager‘s ability to pick the correct players for our needs. The Tigers defeated Wolves on the road, this coming on the back of a 1-1 draw at home to Stoke which I missed due to returning from hi jinks at the Royal London Hospital and before the International break record £1 million signing Caleb Folan made his debut in front of the Sky cameras at Blackpool. Naturally we kept up the abysmal record on live TV and lost, but Folan looked strong, skill full and above all quick. But can he find the back of the net on a regular basis? Career stats suggest not… Ian Angus (Wolves season ticket holder, but objective observer) had the following reflections on the Moyneiux clash. “It is fair to say that we were awful; I mean, really bad. Something has gone terribly wrong this season. Hull were not great to be honest and would have been slayed by any other top team. I think you will struggle again this season. Time, as they say will tell, but I stand by my assertion that Brown is not good enough a Boss to take us to even mid table come the end of the season. There’s the petard. Hope I’m well and truly hoisted on it by May. 9月18日 The Battle of Salamis by Javier Cercas (2002)A high profile Francoista finds himself at the mercy of a Republican Militiaman in the dying days of the Spanish Civil War, but incredibly the Government Fighter eyeballs his prey and decides to let him go. What really happened? Rafael Sanchez Mazas went on to be a leading, if fleeting light in the Franco’s Fascist rebellion which, with the help of the Nazis and the criminal ambivalence of the Allies, went onto usurp power from the democratically elected Leftist Government of the Spanish Republic and his hero status largely devolved from this supposed incident. Soldiers of Salamis is a very unusual novel as the author himself becomes one of the main protagonists. The first part of the book is about how the writer gathered his evidence , the main story is told in part two, and the final chapters update the reader on what became of the characters. I am fascinated by this period of history as my hero, George Orwell actually put his Socialist principles on the line to fight for the Republic, the result being a Homage to Catalonia, one of the finest works as a analysis and ultimately a condemnation of War penned in the 20th Century, and includes references to my late Father in Law’s close friend Staff Cottam, who as a callow 17 year old fought in this conflagration. His own memoirs were passed on to me and I include them amongst my most treasured possessions, for what they mean for the history of out great Socialist Movement and for the memories of Les Jones himself, a man of outstanding principles who actually did something to change things through his tireless work as an activist in the Trade Union Movement, and in the Labour Party. No one had more influence over my political education, even if my late Mother in Law often had to tell us to pack in the arguing due to his dickey ticker. The Battle of Salamis delves into the psychology of human motivation in times of great turmoil, but what interest me is no matter how even the balance the Republicans always come out as the heroes and thirty years after his death, the Francoistas would rather slink into the shadows of history.
A great book and a must read for Socialists everywhere. 9月17日 On the Mend.I got out of the car in Morrisons car park, walked about fifty yards into the main bit, picked up a Guardian, paid for it, and walked back to the car and Cath drove us home. Mundane? Yes, but it felt like a bloody miracle to us. Alright, I have to use a white stick and the dark glasses give away the fact that my eyesight is shot, but the GAD anti body that Prof GG located in my blood, and was the silent assassin, is being held at bay due to the infusions of plasma (£200 a bottle, and I had forty over five days, yikes!) and a drug called Vigam. Almost immediately the strength and feeling came back to my legs, which no longer move in the manner of a certain ‘Eighties Welsh Pop Star and ex Communist Party convener Mr. Stevens. I walked across Ward 4 on the Alex Wing of The Royal London Hospital and the moment between my wonderful cousin Mairin and I will never leave either of us. Absolutely amazing. BUT…. There is still a long way to go, and as the treatment is new, GG has no idea if this is for keeps or some temporary remission so fingers crossed. I knew, I just bloody knew something would turn up. I am waiting for an MRI scan to determine how much of the brain damage is permanent, when I spy a little lad grasping a Lightening McQueen toy as he skips along with his Dad, a big man sporting the impressive robes of a proud North African. I say; “Hey little fella, my boy has that car.” He smiles lopsidedly, but the four year old unmistakable twinkle is there in his big brown eyes. They enter the scan room. The radiographer gives me a look, then a shake of the head and with a sudden shudder I can anticipate what comes next. The sound of his cries tears me apart. I am going to be alright. He is not. This indeed is proof positive that there are no such people as “chosen ones” in receipt of the “miraculous grace” of some super natural power.. It’s a random throw of the dice and your life can be fucked up in the most cruel, savage and above all indiscriminate manner. I am just lucky. Nothing more, nothing less. Here’s to luck, and all who sail in her. 9月6日 This is Where the Second Half of My Life BeginsWe leave for London and the biggest week of my life to date. The treatment that my wonderful Doctor, Prof. GG thinks will not only save, but change my life begins on Sunday. A lot has gone wrong in my life, heartbreaking tragedy that could have ruined my time before it had really begun, and then at 36 this horrid disease…. But. I wouldn’t change a single day. I am luckier than most people and I just know it’s all going to work out in the end. Well, it couldn’t fail to given my beautiful wife and son, family and friends… This song sums it all up. The only baggage you can bring
And I know it aches And your heart, it breaks And you can only take so much Leave it behind You got to leave it behind
9月5日 Death Sentence (2007) Dir James Wan. Hull CineWorldMild mannered Insurance Assessor Nick Hume (Kevin Bacon) gets mixed up in a heap of trouble when a gas station robbery goes wrong, but his eagerness for revenge unleashes a spiral of violence that engulfs his whole family in an orgy of blood and guts…… This is very much a Leave-Your-Brain-At-The-Door-Movie, which is a shame as some of the cinematography and fight scenes are well shot and you can tell there has been care and attention to detail, but the flaws in the plot are absolute no brainers, and by the end I was laughing at the sheer stupidity of it all, which I guess is not the outcome the writers wanted. Death Sentence comes from the Death Wise writer Brian Garfield and was initially a novel, although I imagine it can’t have been a very long one as basically Bacon’s character just gets involved loads of ultra violence, and the on screen portrayal of said brutality was extremely strong, complete with severed limbs and exploding bodies. It was enjoyable in a very silly way, but ultimately it is actually a promising film which was ruined by a lazy attitude to narrative and plot progression, sacrificed at the alter of gore, and provides grist to the mill of those who criticise certain films for appealing to the lowest common denominator, and I would say Death Sentence is far more “Violence Porn” than say Hostel or the movies of Quentin Tarentino. 9月4日 The Sopranos Season Six Part Two: Sopranos Home Movies. E4 Sunday 10pm The visceral, thumping bass beat kicks in, Tony takes his ticket for the New Jersey Turnpike and we are off and running for the second half of the final season of the Sopranos, the finest television drama ever written.
Many insightful and eloquent eulogies have been penned in praise of David Chase’s creation, and this episode contains all the best ingredients of the show. Tony has some business to conclude with a pair of French Canadian drug dealers, and now the Feds are hassling him over the gun he left behind when Johnny Sack was arrested, it seems an opportune time for some R and R by the Great Lakes. Only problem is that he and Carmela will be house guests with sister Janice, Bobby, their daughter and the mountains of sibling neurosis which dwarf the vast North American rural landscape. What follows is an existential, Sartrean piece of drama as we wait for the simmering pot of vitriol to overflow. Sure Tony, to the outside world has changed but we are privy to his sessions with Dr. Melfi and realise it’s only a matter of time…. Bobby is caught betwixt and between the results of Tony and Janice’s fatally dysfunctional family and upbringing, but for him the consequences now seem potentially unimaginable, and he crosses a line previously he assiduously avoided, as he was the oil on Tony and Junior’s troubled waters. On the surface it appears the men are the evil ones, casually dishing out mindless physical and psychological violence but here we see that it takes not just ambivalence, but active encouragement from the women who appear in total denial at all times about why they have such opulence on tap. All human frailties and anomalies are here. Every scene has a vital part in the narrative and not one second is wasted by the writers, directors or the brilliant cast. Savour every moment. It is pure genius.
9月3日 Hull FC 6-42 Hull Kingston Rovers. Sport never ceases to produce the incredible, an event that just leaves you saying; “How did THAT happen?”
In recent days it was England reeling at 144/7 but sneaking home through a odds defying stand of 99 from Ravi Bopara and Chris Broad, Tim Henman rolling back the years to beat Tursanov at the US Open, Wolves going down to Morecambe and to this contemporary list of upsets can be added this thumping by a rampant Robins side still not clear of the drop, of an Airlie Birds outfit in tip top form having won six out of the last seven Super League fixtures. You just have to hold your hands up and say bloody well played lads, you were brilliant and we were distinctly below par. As long as we make the play offs I won’t mind TOO much as it means this epic Derby, the biggest in World Football will be on again next season. It had to happen. The script was written and the lead actor had a storming game. Paul Cooke. He of the acrimonious Transfer That Dare Not Speak It’s Name (well, only every minute of every day somewhere in Black and White Land), coming back to haunt the jilted party with a Man of the Match performance. Even the most partisan of the Red half of the City will admit that Cooke can be distinctly erratic, and when his kicking game deserts him, he seems to retreat into a rather large shell contributing little, and prone to silly errors borne of poor concentration. Such inconsistency has hampered his Test football ambitions. Needless to say this lunchtime, in front of a sell out crowd numbering 24,500 Cooke played an absolute blinder directly setting up three of Rovers’ eight (yes, that’s right. God this hurts) tries and Kicking five goals. His trade mark long pass was to the fore when he put Dyer in for the centre’s second try, plus an exquisite grubber kick which set up a score for Mark Lennon exemplified what a good player Cooke is, on his day. Apart from Danny Washbrook’s excellent foot work which enabled him to register our only try of the match, I can’t remember the Black and Whites creating many breaks in open play, and far too often the man receiving the ball was either static or on the back foot. No doubt this was due to the Robin’s solid defence which has wised up a great deal over the course of the campaign, but a lack of imagination and vim from the home team, led to a very lack lustre display. Mr. Ganson had a very good day with the whistle, there was a low penalty count, he was consistent and in addition he took measures to stamp out the water carriers blatantly passing tactical instructions from the bench. The RFL take note. Referee Boss Stuart Cummings should brief the Officials to heed Mr. Ganson’s stance on the matter. Overall Rovers were well worth their win and James Webster’s solo effort was the try of the match, so congratulations and City bragging rights belong to the Red half of Hull. Don’t milk it. Like we wouldn’t of course. Circumstances made me think of things I want to do and one of them was; Go To A Derby Match With Andy. Check. Photos; Tommy Lee at the warm up. Former Hessle High pupil unfortunate enough to be taught by yours truly. I ran in to him recently and he took the trouble to come over for a chat. Funnily enough it’s always former pupils, not colleagues who seem to notice me around the place and they aren't put off by the wheelchair, unlike the adults... Various action shots from the game. Andy and I. Thirty years ago this week since we first met, having been put in the same class at St. John Fisher Middle School on Orchard Park, North Hull. Still soild and another vital relationship that keeps me strong. Just wait for next season!
9月1日 Top Twenty Albums... It's All Gone a Bit Pete Tong The ol’ Top Twenty Albums of All Time lark seemed a good idea at the time (April 2006), but I have got myself into a right royal mess and have received a considerable amount slagging from various quarters (all men by the way), most of it deserved…
I’m a bit of a music junkie and my collection stands at 5,508 tracks which, so iTunes reliably informs me would take a monumental 147.4 days to listen to, back to back. So when weighing things up at the start twenty albums seemed like a piece of the proverbial. Not so. Major ruminations have ensued, (help me!) and whilst I’m satisfied with most of the list, a cull has been required so out go the following; 20. Bronski Beat, The Age of Consent. Brilliant but I was feeling sentimental. There are better works from this era (1984) but you would be hard pressed to find a superior song to sum up the evils of Thatcher’s Britain than Smalltown Boy. 19. Robbie Williams… What was I on? A great performer and some cracking songs, but come on man. Get a grip. 18. Rush, Grace Under Pressure. Good but I must have reverted to 17 year old nerd mode. 17. Cactus World News, Urban Beaches. Sentimentality for my Limerick youth, still a great record though. 15. Arctic Monkeys. I thought it was brilliant at the time, and still do but was seduced by it’s newness. The Revised List. No artist more than once, otherwise U2, the Manics and the Smiths would hog the lot.
20. REM. Automatic For the People (1992).
REM are an extremely important band, and whilst I was never a fan of their early stuff until Document, this album is so bloody honest and heartfelt it just stands out. I used to love playing it at night in the bath with the lights out. Yow! Too much information! This record helped me get my head together and make sense of a whirlwind young life.
19. Simple Minds. New Gold Dream (1982)
I stand by this choice, although lower down.
18. Levellers. Levelling the Land (1991)
Ditto New Gold Dream.
17. Muse. Black Holes and Revelations (2006).
Checked my play stats and it’s over the hills and far away. I think it has longevity, and is a musical masterpiece from a Band at the height of it’s powers. They are in addition, one of the best live bands I’ve ever seen.
16. Stereophonics. Language, Sex, Violence, Other. (2005). 15. Neil Young and Crazy Horse. Ragged Glory (1990) Ditto ‘Phonics record.
14. George Michael. Listen Without Prejudice (1990).
Previously at ten, and for some reason this provoked the most negative reactions. Ian Angus and Rich especially reproached me for this one.
13. Oasis. (What’s the Story?) Morning Glory (1995). Maybe it should be higher?
12. Bob Dylan. Blood on the Tracks (1975). Desire could easily live with it in the greatness stakes.
11. Echo and the Bunnymen. Ocean Rain (1984). I had to take myself outside in the Pub Car Park at closing time for a drunken fight on realising this record’s initial omission from the list. It’s that good. Talking Heads meets Dylan Thomas.
The Manic Street Preachers Holy Bible (1994) is still there, but higher up.
Is all this really worth the effort? Probably not.
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