I think we’ve seen enough evidence now, in one year, to know that lockdowns don’t work. And they most certainly damage the country’s economy.
Maybe we, the public have learned things about the virus along the way though it seems the government haven’t.
There are so many opinions divided over Covid.
It’s a deadly virus, we get that. It’s easily spread, we get that too.
But taking in the fact that it kills around one percent of people who have already reached or passed their normal life expectancy, then you begin to wonder why it is that we are continually under house arrest by order of a government who frankly, couldn’t run a bath.
Of course that’s just an opinion. The same as most other people have, a take on the situation as a whole and how it affects their lives personally.
I said to my doctor, this has to be the biggest over-reaction to anything like, ever. He didn’t wanna hear it. Well they don’t, do they.
But I’m now getting rather fed up about being told who can come in or out of my house. Covid has certainly turned so many people into self-righteous experts on the subject too.
The thing is, you can lockdown for six months or six years but you know what, the minute you go back out, the virus is still going to be out there, lurking, somewhere near you no matter the number of vaccines people have had.
Social distancing (and the majority of people we know are doing this), hand sanitisation (perhaps not enough people are doing that seriously) and mask wearing are, in my opinion, all practices that can be done in, not all, but most working environments and certainly outdoors.
I’ve been called all manner of things for not saying a huge fat YES to something just because a handful of others choose to agree with it. And you can go in calling me an idiot because it’s not going to change anything one iota.
As I said, a majority are confirming to the restrictions but anyone who imagined that the entire country is sat indoors and not popping next door for a cuppa or visiting a friend are living in cloud cuckoo land.
We are now in week sux or whatever it is if a third national lockdown and of course a growing number of people have simply had enough.
Last March there was an unseasonal heatwave and people were being hoiked off the beach, I’m talking fully clothed people, a lady for example just set there, yards from any other soul, reading a book alfresco, told to leave the beach by patrols who assumed they actually were the police.
Can you imagine the scenes if this runs into May and there’s hot weather? I can’t speak for others and nor do I want too but no government will ever stop me enjoying the sun.
Like most people I feel the long term impact of Covid means that the way we live may well have changed forever.
I still do all the correct things outside. I social stance, I wear a mask all if the time, not just on entering a shop. But I’ll be damned if I’m being told I can’t have a few friends round to watch the football, close neighbours at that, just because the government doesn’t approve.
No, lockdowns don’t work but that’s okay because we’re stuck with a government and its ‘world-beating’ plans that will haul us out of this dilemma once and for all.
In another stroll down Memory Lane, perhaps better named as Mammory Lane on this occasion, it’s a fond and retrospective nod to those old slapstick softcore movies that were on a par in the seventies with the Carry On films, though the Confessions quadcore had more revelations, full nudity for one thing (in the case of the ladies) but the success of these productions was built on that same saucy seaside, titter titter, “No sex please, we’re British!” vogue and of course a natural wide-eyed curiosity for these ‘all rather adult’ flicks.
A few years back I managed to download all four of them for free and here I’ve produced a thirty minute montage of those softcore scenes, the naughty bits, the funniest bits – knickers and knockers galore, which I hope will please the viewer.
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Across the four movies the staple actors and actresses were Anthony Booth, Bill Maynard, Peter Cleall, Windsor Davies and Doris Hare, in fact Confessions From A Holiday Camp is rather like a remake of Holiday On The Buses.
I’ve not watched all of these films in entirety though Ive probably seen enough. Just surprised I’ve never come across Sally Thomsett or Paula Wilcox – if they weren’t in these movies then maybe they were busy doing other things.
Words now from Nigel Burton at the Northern Echo on Robin Askwith and there are quite a few of them so grab a cuppa!
Forty years ago Robin Askwith’s career had become a pretty good metaphor for the entire British film industry taking in, as it did, horror, sex and television sit-com spin-offs. Confessions of a Window Cleaner was the most successful film in UK cinemas in 1974 – and the critics hated it. Askwith, who took the job to keep paying the bills, came to be defined by the Confessions series. He appeared in four – although it seems like more due to the number of cheap, er, knock-offs with similar names – and spent the next decade trying to live them down.
Forty years later the Confessions series, and a handful other sexploitation films, have undergone a critical reappraisal. The same newspapers whose contemptuous critics once dismissed them as tawdry tat, now hail them as important ‘social documents’ of public tastes in the 1970s.
Kicking back with a coffee, Askwith seems to have had the last laugh: “The critics hated them, but we were packing the audiences in at a time when nothing else did. People were queuing round the block to get into the Sheppard’s Bush Odeon.”
Askwith started out with high hopes. After being expelled from school for running down his headmaster with a motorcycle, a chance meeting with film director Lindsay Anderson led to a role in ‘If’, a critically acclaimed satire of public schools.
Acting seemed like the perfect career choice: “I was earning 49 quid a week, driving a Triumph Herald and picking up the girls. There was no way I was going back to learning about Karl Marx.”
His timing was lousy. After a productive period when American studios poured cash into UK pictures, the British film industry was about to enter a dark period. Struggling with their own financial problems, Hollywood producers scaled back their investment and, almost overnight, money for new films dried up.
Askwith segued from critically acclaimed dramas like ‘If’ into TV sit-coms such as The Fenn Street Gang, Bless This House and Please Sir!, and indie horror hits Tower of Evil, The Flesh and Blood Show and the bonkers hit Horror Hospital (now a cult classic). “I had bills to pay,” he says matter-of-factly, “and the films made lots of money. That was the British film industry back then.”
Ironically, the Confessions films were actually made with American money (from Columbia) which gave them bigger budgets – and better casts – than the thematically similar Adventures rip-offs made by Stanley Long.Askwith says he originally turned the role down (“I read the script and couldn’t understand it. I thought ‘What’s all this about bubbles coming out of my arse’?
It sounded ridiculous.”) but took the role when offered a multi-picture deal. In fact, he signed up for six Confessions films (based on the books written under a pseudonym by Christopher Wood) – a remarkable deal for a young actor at the time – and when Confessions of a Window Cleaner succeeded beyond anyone’s expectations that looked like a canny move. Today, the success on that scale would set an actor up for life but in 1974 he says: “I had fame – but no fortune. My 20ft high face was on the side of buses, but I was still getting on the same buses.”
Even by 1974 standards the Confessions were pretty tame stuff. They had more in common with saucy seaside postcards than the hardcore bump ‘n grind stuff being filmed in Europe and America. The ‘dirty raincoat’ brigade were disappointed by the sex scenes which were played for laughs and filmed in the best possible taste.
Askwith says: “I’d done conventional sex scenes before in films like Tower of Evil but the Confessions movies were nothing like them. My character usually ended up buried under bubbles, covered in paint or hiding under the bed.” That didn’t prevent Window Cleaner being banned in Colombia and Spain, and Pop Performer in South Africa, however.
The series ran out of steam after four movies – Columbia’s financial troubles meant it couldn’t afford the fifth, Confessions in a Haunted House – but Askwith says he found it hard to get work afterwards. “I lost a role in a TV sit-com because I’d done X-rated films, so I went on a world tour called Further Confessions of a Window Cleaner that was very successful.”
Askwith went on to star in the TV sitcom Benidorm later on. I never had a window cleaning job, or was a pop star, or even a driving instructor so clearly missed out on a lot of bonking. Fair to say that the Confessions movies were harmless fun and British sauciness at its best – or worst, depending on your palette,
So my cat who is some kind of psychotic serial killer chased a small Chaffinch into the lounge last Friday.
At first I thought the bird noises were her playing with one of the toy birds I had bought for Duchess.
VILLAIN OF THE PEACE
When I realised what it was she was tormenting, it got itself behind all the TV and stuff so I had to use a measuring jug to get it in there and to examine it.
The way its eyes looked up at me told me that it knew, if this makes any sense at all, that I was doing my best to help it. That it knew it was in safe hands.
My immediate neighbour Laura took it to keep an eye on it in her garden because she wasn’t sure it was able to fly.
At one point she told me it had gone but then it was back and wasn’t moving. Maybe the rains last night were the killing blow and this morning she had it in her hand, telling me that it had just passed on.
It upset me immensely. I couldn’t begin to tell you how much I love and care for animals but another neighbour Tim told me he saw Duchess on that day carrying the bird looking as pleased as punch.
It’s in their nature, I understand that but I don’t like the idea of death and seeing it close at hand was horrible. The hardest thing I’ve had to do today is bury this poor creature.
No way could I just put it in the trash. I used this vape box as a makeshift coffin, put kitchen towel in top and bottom for dignity.
Then Tim offered it to bury it and used some twine for the cross you see.
And then with the windows open I thought of a funeral song. I’d play my favourite right now, Transatlanticism (Death Cab For Cutie) but as beautiful as that is, it’s too maudlin in melody.
Then it hit me, Eels! I Like Birds is just perfect, buoyant and easy on the ear.
Tim was outside and laughed when he heard it start up, realising the poignancy. Trust you to think of that, he said.
Goonight little angel. I am so sorry for what my cat did and for your premature end.
Rest in please and I’ll tweet this to let the bird world know about you. ❤️
I grew up with LBC. I can go back a far as the days of Monty Modlyn! I never really liked listening to music at night. So spoken word in the form of phone-in shows were for me, far more entertaining. When talkRADIO and the subsequent talkSPORT came into being, I discovered a new world of amusing presenters. Some were known as shock jocks; Brian Hayes for example on R2 is sorely missed because we really don’t have anyone of their like as a replacement.
talkRADIO had the likes of Jon Gaunt and James Whale for the controversy club while I preferred the more MOR Ian Collins; he’s to be found I think, but don’t quote me on it, at Radio London or 5Live these days.
Brian Hayes could be as obnoxious as he was refreshing, depending on your preferences in audio entertainment. I found this online and post it here in tribute although I;m fairly sure, given my appalling maths, that he is still with us at the age of 83.
Among the sadly departed of course is Mike Dickin. His untimely death was a huge loss to broadcasting, at least, so say I. When he came along on talkRADIO with his gruff voice and the ongoing debate and conjecture that he had often had a few before taking to the airwaves, the irony was that he often told callers to “take more water with it”.
As a logophile and defender of the English language, I was pleased at Dickins’ ban of the word “basically” or the term “at the end of the day”/ Callers who transgressed in this way more often than not had their call curtailed.
Stiff Little Fingers said that you can’t say crap on the radio – but Dickin did, as you will, hear now in this relatively short montage I’ve put together using some of the very few clips that are available on Youtube.
One clip that used to be there but has sadly been deleted was of a time when Mike recounted a time when he’d been on a train and had to suffer (and we’ve all been there) a person with one of these smartphones (at the time not so prevalent as they are today), where this chap was constantly calling on his phone: “this is (so and so) – could you put me through to” repeatedly, a real pain to listen to for other passengers.
Anyway, the chap got up at one point to use the loo, leaving his phone at the table whereby some brave soul got up… “I kid you not” (said Mike), took the phone, slid open a window and calmly let go of the wretched thing.
So what of today’s presenters by comparison? I’m drawing a contrast here between morning and evening listening on LBC. In the small hours there exists (and he will insist on this being true) a phenomenon by the name of Steve Allen.
Now there are times when I despair and there are times when he makes me laugh. It would be so easy to write disparagingly about Steve who probably is the queen (and I use the term loosely of course) of morning airtime.
His photo (they all seem to have him looking forty-something although he insists that he is of an elderly persuasion) doesn’t add up when while listening he sounds so much younger.
You can call him the biggest egotist, the campest DJ.. he really couldn’t care less!
He has a set-list for topics of conversation. I was jotting down a top ten and got as far as seven but ostensibly he will bang on mostly about the spike. The spike is when he comes on air and the listening figures for LBC rise from three to five. He will insist that actually this is four figures territory.
Type 2 diabetes which he has; hard to criticise on a health condition but boy does he mention it a lot!
Costco, that’s another one, Twickenham and surrounding areas of course, of which let’s see him in the raw, well not literally of course) in this video clip that’s almost a decade old now.
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Pants. Can’t forget pants. All well and good that Steve prefers M&S and whether it’s Y-fronts or shorts is not the issue, it’s the amount of airtime he spends talking about his undies or pants in general which some may find odd.
But let’s have it right, Steve Allen is important for his vernal assassination of…. Z-listers!
In the wee small hours, major, sorry, minor celebs such as Peter Andre and Gemma Collins are regularly put down, it’s really great to hear and often has me in stitches.
As I say, he is Marmite. Love him or hate him, he does what he does and will hopefully be doing it for years to come yet. Here in full is his, at the time of this going to press, latest catch up.
And on LBC in the late evenings (but only on Fridays and Saturdays) you can find this guy. I only discovered the show recently and became an instant fan.
Nick Abbot muses on the current topics in his own style with hilarious in-house sound effects and his imitations of most people and things in general are fantastic, none better than his verbal take on “Donny” aka Donald Trump and “fake news”.
Don’t take my word for it, try it for yourself. Here’s last Friday’s show in full which includes regular caller Ranjit from Birmingham.
So there it is, Quality broadcasting does still exist. You may have to search long and hard to find it, given the plethora of choice that there is via DAB radio, podcasts and streaming.
I just wish that there were more clips available of the old school guys though; they really were something else.
The relationship between music and football has evolved over the years, but it’s fair to say the twin pursuits have always shared some common ground.
Recently, we have seen the slow demise of the traditional FA Cup final song, in a move which has paralleled the decline of outlets like Top of the Pops on which to perform the music in question.
From a Shots perspective, we use Apache on the East Bank but haven’t, so far as I know, released an official single.
I’m not a fan of The Shadows or sixties music in general so even for sentimental reasons it wouldn’t maker the grade for this particular top ten.
Because there are the two animals: the official club song and the topical song, made by bands whose members supported a particular team (I think The Yobs for exame were Spurs fans but don’t quote me on that) and who would pen poignant lyrics about life on the terraces.
During the 70s and 80s boom time for footy songs, had we been in a higher echelon, perhaps we might have seen and heard such a thing.
Growing up, Reading were our chief rivals. Add Pompey and Bournemouth apropos Hampshire derbies. Woking was largely unheard of, just another concrete jungle up the road.
I looked at the Planet Football website and they’d got a list of 77 songs and Reading made an official release.
They Call Us the Royals
This sounds like the theme song for a new flavour of crisps, or the montage music from a film starring one of the lesser-known Disney Channel stars.
Now that IS embarrassing.
Build a bonfire, build a bonfire, put the Reading at the top
Put the Woking in the middle and burn the fucking lot
I’m sure there’s a tune there somewhere – maybe 50 Cent? Or back in the day Sham 69 or Cockney Rejects would have made a decent fist of it.
Or imagine Champione given the technno / trance treatment – that’d work.
Oh Champione
the one and only
the Aldershot
they said our days are numbered we’re not famous anymore
but Shots rule non league football like they’ve always done before
If you look at the web music press, NME, Ranker and the like have all the usual suspects, Vindaloo, Three Lions, World In Motion… no mention of Half Man Half Biscuit any place.
Glenn and Chris singing Diamond Lights or Kevin Keegan’s “Head Over Heels In Love” are surely instant dismissals. As are things like Embrace with “World At Your Feet” – these are simply bog-standard.
There are tenuous works that almost make the cut that I’m quite fond of. Subbuteo gets a mention in The Undertones’ “My Perfect Cousin” and who knows why arguably the Wedding Presents’ best album was named George Best!
Others just failing to make the grade here are Collapsed Lung’s “Eat My Goal”,
Off the top of my head I could think of four absolute shoe-ins for a top ten football songs of an independent vein and I scoured the internet for the rest; and here they are.
10. DEPTH CHARGE – “Goal!”
It was 1990 and this appealed to me because at the time I was listening to the likes of Transglobal Underground and African Head Charge,
In any event, most of us like the hyperbole of overseas football commentary so this one cuts the mustard.
9. THE FARM – “All Together Now”
Peter Hooton wrote the lyrics in his early 20s after reading about the Christmas truce of 1914. The song was first recorded under the title “No Man’s Land” for a John Peel session in 1983. In 1990, Hooton wrote the chorus after Steve Grimes suggested putting the lyrics of No Man’s Land to the chord progression of Pachelbel’s Canon. To shorten the song for radio, the producer Suggs cut the song to three verses from its original six. It has been used by numerous football teams since, as well as by the Labour Party for their 2017 general election campaign, often played during rallies.
8. THE FALL – “Theme From Sparta FC”
Mark E Smith is a veteran of football songs, from ‘Kicker Conspiracy’ in 1983 to a World Cup song. His finest contribution has to be ‘Theme from Sparta FC’, still part of The Fall’s live set and the theme music to BBC’s Final Score.
7. BILLY BRAGG – “God’s Footballer”
If I hadn’t researched all of this properly then this treasure might have fallen by the wayside, I was only playing Don’t Try This At Home the other day and this track is unskippable, The Molineux nod and the sound of the crowd at the end put the icing on the cake here.
God’s footballer hears the voices of angels Above the choir at Molineux God’s footballer stands on the doorstep And brings the good news of the kingdom to come While the crowd sings ‘rock of ages’ The goals bring weekly wages Yet the glory of the sports pages Is but the worship of false idols and tempts him not
God’s footballer turns on a sixpence And brings the great crowd to their feet in praise of him God’s footballer quotes from the gospels While knocking on doors in black country back streets He scores goals on a Saturday And saves souls on a Sunday For the lord says these are the last days Prepare thyself for the judgment yet to come
His career will be over soon And the rituals of a Saturday afternoon Bid him a reluctant farewell For he knows beyond the sport lies the spiritual
6. MORRISSEY – “Munich Air Disaster 1958”
Mozza’s sad and heartfelt tribute to the Busby Babes deservedly wins a place. I think he could have titled it less directly but it’s straight and to the point and not a bad Morrissey number. Whether a Manchester United fan or not, in football we should always remember and respect those men whose lives were curtailed.
5. SULTANS OF PING FC – “Give Him A Ball (And A Yard Of Grass)”
Probably the first and only musical tribute to Nigel Clough! Irish band The Sultans of Ping shook the music world with all the vigour of a mild bout of indigestion when they strolled onto the scene in the early 1990s. They did leave behind a few decent tracks, including this ode to Cloughie Jnr. The track is available on the excellently titled album Casual Sex in the Cineplex!
Give him a ball and a yard of grass/ He’ll give you a move with perfect pass/ Give him a ball and a yard of space/ He’ll give you a move with godly grace/ He ‘s a nice young man with a lovely smile/ A man can’t have no greater love/ Than give 90 minutes to his friends.
4. PINK FLOYD – “Fearless”
Perhaps a surprise selection to a few but I’ve been thinking outside the box. “You’ll Never Walk Alone” at Anfield and in particular sung before a midweek European night game is poignant enough.
The song has been adopted by other clubs too, notably Celtic, but if you hear the song you predominately associate it with Liverpool FC,
3. YOUSSOU N’DOR and AXELLE RED -‘Les Cour Des Grands’
As an apprecianado of African music, it’s unsurprising to me at least that this fits the bill. It’s a decent video (despite the poor pixel quality) and has the added spice of match commentary. was chosen as the official anthem for the 1998 FIFA World Cup held in France.
2. COCKNEY REJECTS – “War On The Terraces”
English punk rock band. Their 1980 song”Oi, Oi, Oi” was the inspiration for the name of the Oi! music genre. The band members are loyal supporters of West Ham United and pay tribute to the club with their hit cover version of of “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles” – a song traditionally sung by West Ham supporters. From a Youtube uploader:
Peel loved them, Morrisey loves them, Shane Mcgowan and Ricky Hatton loves them….the music press hated them, the West Ham loving Cockney Rejects. A volatile cocktail of stree punk, working class values and football mayhem, these young East End urchins felt they were taking Punk back from the Kings Road posuers and back to its grass roots. The Vdeo is a brief history of English hooligansim in the 80s and 90s, it contains some scenes people might find offensive but hey, this is the rejects…it weren’t ever gonna be pretty.
I’m not posting that video here. There’s enough glorification of football violence as it is.
While putting this topic together I discovered that on their Out Of The Gutter LP they have a song called Calling The Shots! Maybe I should now adopt that for this blog as its anthem! My official video will now duly be reworked.
War On The Terraces is the flipside of the We Are The Firm single.
NUMBER ONE!
This was a favourite of John Peel. It’s always been my favourite footy song for it’s lyrics mostly, an honest resonance of a Saturday game in the eighties and a match made on the terraces. A Certain Ratio getting a mention is another plus point. The lyrics are dreadfully misrepresented online so I’ve endeavoured to correct them and print the majority of it here.
SERIOUS DRINKING – “Love On The Terraces”
Her name was Sharon, She came from Southend With sister Karen, A little skinhead, She liked football, She liked snooker, She liked A Certain Ratio, She liked the Cockney Rejects!
Love, love, love on the terraces Love, love, love on the terraces,
At the stadium, by the river, Buying her programme, And a silk scarf, She had a nice face, And blonde hair, She wore a tracksuit, She was beautiful!
Love, love, love on the terraces Love, love, love on the terraces, Love, love, love on the terraces Love, love, love on the terraces,
It got to halftime, The same as usual, There was a brass band and a Norwich disco
The match got lively, another goal went in another fight broke out then I saw Sharon.
It was love at first sight as the gangs began to fight But I couldn’t give a toss cos this match would be no loss
She’ll never walk alone She nabbed my programme, She broke my heart.
From a Guardian article:
Serious Drinking were my favourite of the Norwich bands. They took their name, they said, from Garry Bushell’s habit of ending interviews in Sounds magazine by popping to the pub with the band for some “serious drinking”. Their instrumental skills were rudimentary. They sang about drinking, about football culture, about country girls becoming punks, in the style of stupid stories told in pubs. Not for nothing was their debut album called The Revolution Starts at Closing Time.
There’s not a lot to say about the musicality of Love on the Terraces. This song will never be more than a footnote, and no one will write books about Serious Drinking in years to come. But listen to it and you’ll know this was a band having fun being in a band. And then wonder how many contemporary indie groups sound like they could play a party at your house without killing it.
Football related songs and good ones really are few and far between. I’ve achieved this by managing to eschew the quite excellent Anfield Rap too.
Circa late eighties and the hip things on the box for alternative music fans were Eurotrash, Rapido and,,, Snub,
Snub TV was an alternative culture television program that aired from 1987 to 1989 as a segment on the Night Flight overnight programming on the USA Network and subsequently for three seasons on the BBC.
So if like me you’d grown up under the aural guidance of John Peel’s radio programmes, suddenly many of those bands could be seen raw on Snub, rather than just the odd *and some of them were) appearance on TOTP.
The original US program was developed by executive producer Fran Duffy and aired as part of Night Flight on a fortnightly basis. The first 2 seasons were produced in the UK by Pete Fowler and Brenda Kelly. A third season was produced in the US by Duffy with help from Giorgio Gomelsky.
In 1989-1991 a UK version, produced by Fowler & Kelly, aired for three seasons on the BBC and was syndicated to the pan-European TV channel Super Channel and in other countries in Europe, such as Russia, Portugal, Denmark and Greece,
Snub’s early focus on emphasis on the indie and underground music scene in the UK was very much informed by Kelly’s position as editor of The Catalogue, house magazine of The Cartel record distribution group, plus Fowler’s work producing videos for bands. As the BBC show developed the program covered the rise of Madchesyer documenting such bands as Stone Roses.
Snub TV was created by Pete “Pinko” Fowler and Brenda Kelly, who met working at Rough Trade records. Kelly was a budding music journalist and Fowler was a cameraman filming live gigs and promos for Rough Trade bands such as the Smiths and the Go-Betweens, before moving on to video work at Southern Studios.
The pair combined their talents for a new cable show in the US put together by anglophile Fran Duffy, which first aired 30 years ago, in 1987. Snub TV was shot in the UK for about £700 per episode, edited at ITN and Fed-Exed to the US each week, where it ran for 14 episodes.
It featured artists such as My Bloody Valentine, the JAMMS (later KLF) and Björk (in her first TV appearance, with the Sugarcubes). Britain took note, and it was soon acquired by Janet Street-Porter, then head of youth television at the BBC, where it ran for three seasons from 1989 until its demise in 1991.
Despite a healthy chunk of Snub footage being posted on YouTube, the show is not officially available anywhere and huge parts of it – including almost all of the American strand of the series – cannot be viewed at all. Pinko hoped for a release last year, but interest didn’t equate to money. “We were close to putting a DVD out of all the American and English series. I wanted to do it well, to use up outtakes and do fresh interviews with bands that are still pertinent, but nobody was willing to give us the budget to do it properly,” he says. “I want people to see stuff they’ve never seen, it just needs a few thousand quid and we can make something special. I’d love to do an eight-hour box set.”
Snub was where I first saw that Ultra Scene video for Mercy Seat and that’s as good for you today as it’s always been.
The 84-minute compilation video I’ve produced here is a best-of in essence; selected songs and interviews from the three series.
In making it, I was reunited with a few long-lost forgotten loves, notably AC Marias “Just Look” – I was quite excited when I saw that,
I’ve also tweaked, jazzed up, however you’d like to call it, the picture quality and sound where possible as the footage from th shows is via VHS standard,
I trust you’ll enjoy these memories as much as I have in knitting them together.
IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
House Of Love – Destroy The Heart Ultra Vivid Scene – Mercy Seat Fugazi – Suggestion AC Marias – Just Talk Sonic Youth – Teen Age Riot Pixies – I Bleed We Are Going To Eat You – Heart In The Hand The Sundays – Can’t Be Sure Spacemen 3 – Revolution The Telescopes – Celeste Catherine Wheel – She’s My Friend The Fall – Bill Is Dead A Certain Ratio – Tribeca Loop – From Centre To Wave Blue Aeroplanes – …..and Stones Ride – Drive Blind The Wedding Present – Why Are You Being So Reasonable Now? Jesus Jones – Info Freak Dub Sex – Swerve Pale Saints – Insubstantial Inspiral Carpets – Commercial Rain The Mekons – Ghosts Of American Astronauts
Oh boy, arcade games oughta be fun. Okay, we all know a lot of games are scripted but this one really takes the cookie.
First off, take a look at the booklet, Tells you everything except explaining how the gameplay actually works, notably the revolving yellow diamond. There she is, on the green, showing you where your ball will land.
The video below demonstrates just how poorly this has been written apropos where your shot will more ofteen than not, end up. Scientifically impossible in a lot of instances.
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I’d been playing this for months, having played EG2 on the PS4 which also contains some very questionable flaws, however, nowhere near on a par with this.
Then there’s the wind factor. Ever been to the beach when the wind is 5mph? It wouldn’t even disturb your towel. Yet here, 7mph is like some kind of a hurricane.
But the one thing I noticed above all else is how, once you;re doing great, let’s say you’re five under after the front nine, suddenly your ball will be finding bunkers or water hazards or practically anything will happen that will rob your of all your hard work.
Just an occasional blip? Sadly not, this happens over and over, so clearly scripted against you it’s beyond belief.
Then there’s your CPU players. Now I’ve made just two eagles in this time, which actually is a plus point in the game, We all like a challenge and the harder the game is, the more realistic it is and makes for a far better challenge.
So when these CPU’s are pulling off five or six eagles in a round, in all conditions, how realistic or fair is that? Sometimes it’s asking you to shoot a 61 just to be in with a chance in a tourno,
Notice also how as soon as you do well, other CPU’s will suddenly be producing unbelievable results. One that springs to mind is on Aloha Beach, a par 4 where I’ve only birdied it once, Justin (who thinks he’s Rose or Westwood) reckons he can eagle it!
The one aspect this ‘game’ is decent for is chip-ins. Get your ball on the fringe, give it a bit over the red flag on your power bar and eight times out of ten, in she goes.
Apparently people gush about this ‘game’ and have “never encountered the issues you have” but seemingly then I must have a faulty disc. But no wait – the last one was just the same.
Maybe the most scripted video game I have ever played and if people like to sit there and accept the poorly coded shennanigans then they must be very easily pleased. Or they are just happy to be fucked over.
In essence, this is a poor show and is only fit for one thing.
As if any more evidence were needed, I decided to road test this boring piece of bollocks by choosing one of the easiest courses, Fujizakura CC, where I had previously scored a 61.
I got a pen and notepad handy to record just what these CPU fantasists were about.
I played a couple of rounds, noting the usual suspects, namely Jeffrey and Maile, resetting the console at the 17th hole where, predictably Maile was already thirteen under. 😂
In the third round I birdied the first five holes and finished twelve under which I let go onto the memory card as I had at least gone a hole better than my previous.
Here’s what the ‘game’ decides had happened despite playing in tornadoes and rain.
MAILE – 59 including seven birdies and three imaginary eagles
JEFFREY – Four eagles and six birdies, fuck me, he’s some kind of robot!
MIKEY – A more than improbable three eagles and six birdies
HERSHA – Four eagles, six birdies
HASHIMOTO – TEN birdies, oh fucking BRAVO!
So there you have it, a ‘game’ that is scripted to death and about enjoyable as cancer.
A golf game that asks you to score a 59 or better just to scrape through a tournament when achieving an Eagle is about as rare as a decent British prime minister is not only an insult to an average person’s intelligence but just taking the piss.
Some ten days later I tried Mount Sakura CC and noted down all the usual suspects.
I quit after the front nine when it imagined that the ball went out of bounds causing a double bogey and one of the classics where the ball would have landed on the green according to their math but amazingly landed half a mile from it.
In that front nine, there were twelve fantasy eagles recorded by these characters! Do you ever see proof of it, any evidence?
Fuck off ClapHanz, your ‘game’ wins the prize fir the worst PlayStation game ever Hanz down.
When TV cop Saga Noren speeds across the Oresund Bridge to Copenhagen it is often a matter of life and death. When Malmo FF make the same journey on Thursday it will be much more important than that.
For decades, fans of the Swedish club have dreamt of a first European away trip to their near neighbours FC Copenhagen and the chance to knock the most successful Scandinavian club of the modern era off their perch.
For the Danish giants meanwhile, the visit means begrudging recognition that the away team are no longer to be taken as lightly as they once were and, with Europa League progression to play for, it is a Nordic derby neither side can afford to lose.
People from the Danish capital, the Swedish stereotype suggests, are arrogant. People from Sweden, the Danish stereotype would have you think, take themselves and their rules far too seriously.
To what extent either point of view is based in reality is up for debate, but it is true FC Copenhagen and Malmo also represent two very different football identities.
The journey across the Oresund Bridge, connecting Copenhagen in Denmark to Malmo in Sweden, takes about 30 minutes by train
With both sides obliged to take something from the game in order to guarantee progression to the knockout stage, the result on Thursday becomes a de facto referendum on the best way to run a club.
The juxtaposition of model is clear. Swedish football operates a ‘51% rule’, meaning club members must always have a decisive stake and private actors cannot become majority owners of football teams.
As such, 1979 European Cup finalists Malmo are limited in how much they can take advantage of the vast sums of money flowing into modern football from investors.
FC Copenhagen by contrast are more like a traditional business, owned by the Parken Sport and Entertainment group and founded in 1992 before winning their first league title just a year later.
“Copenhagen are everything Malmo fans think football should not be, in the sense that they have bought their success while Malmo built theirs from scratch,” Malmo fan and journalist Alexandra Jonson argues.
“This game is a way of defeating the ‘evil’, it’s more than just playing in Europe, it’s playing against modern football.”
Copenhagen’s ‘little brother’?
Malmo supporters may not agree with FC Copenhagen’s ownership model but they would certainly like to replicate the Danish side’s European success.
Copenhagen have made it to European competition proper in 13 of the last 14 seasons, making them by far the most consistent Scandinavian side in Uefa competitions. Malmo want to disrupt that hierarchy, and have been making inroads over the last decade.
“Malmo’s desire is to become the greatest team in Scandinavia – and has been for a while. If they can beat Copenhagen it’s more than just qualifying for the next round, it will take Malmo one big step closer to their ultimate goal,” Jonson says.
The Oresund Bridge runs for almost five miles from Sweden’s west coast to the artificial Peberholm island, where the crossing to Denmak is completed by the Drogden Tunnel
Although Malmo really should have won the first competitive meeting between the two sides in Sweden last October if they had not wasted their chances, Copenhagen’s clear dominance on the European stage means the rivalry between the clubs is asymmetrical.
One of the banners their fans displayed when they played in Malmo disparagingly described the Swedes as their “little brother”, and some take pleasure in the vitriol directed towards them.
“Copenhagen fans find it very amusing that Malmo fans hate us so much. They write stuff like ‘plastic fan’ on Twitter and it’s like ‘dude, relax’. They feel the hate so intensely and we don’t,” said Sarah Skarum, FC Copenhagen fan and journalist for Danish broadsheet Politiken.
The Danes may be top of the pile for the moment, but the gap is gradually closing. Malmo have played in Europe five times since 2011, and last season they progressed to the knockout stage of the Europa League while Copenhagen fell in the groups. A cause for concern?
“We perhaps have a bit more respect for them these days but we still see them as a smaller club than ours and less successful,” Skarum insists.
“That being said, we are worried about the match. Just the thought of their joy… and we really want to be in Europe after Christmas. The fear isn’t losing to Malmo, but not qualifying.”
‘A match not to miss’
They may feel superior, but the idea of Malmo progressing at their expense will not be an enticing one for FC Copenhagen supporters, with the constant exchange of people between the two cities ensuring the ripple effect from Thursday’s result will be inevitable.
“There is something special about the occasion because Parken will be full, with many away fans, so it would be wonderful to win. Their stupid and quite entertaining one-way hate would make it even funnier,” Skarum jokes.
Parken is almost sold out, and it is hoped the atmosphere between the two sets of supporters will be cordial. There will certainly be plenty of interaction between them: Malmo sold their 2,400-ticket allocation almost instantly and, as Jonson explains, that number is likely to be the tip of the iceberg.
Popular BBC Two crime series The Bridge was co-produced in Sweden and Denmark
“There will be a lot of ‘unofficial’ Malmo fans – my family and friends are going with ‘neutral’ tickets – this is a match you don’t want to miss,” she said.
“Playing at home with the entire stadium behind them, Malmo have done the impossible, so now they have the chance to create that at an away game just the other side of the bridge.”
In autumn when the group draw was made, 12 December was the date that stood out, and results elsewhere have conspired to set the night up perfectly for a dramatic finale.
If Malmo win, their progression and first place is guaranteed. If Copenhagen take at least a draw, they top the group and, depending on results elsewhere, could even send Malmo home.
Responsible Child is the story of Ray, a 12 year-old boy on trial for murder.
Ray (Billy Barratt) and his 23 year-old brother Nathan (James Tarpey) are arrested after stabbing their mother’s partner. Whatever the circumstances that have led a child to kill, the law is clear: the age of criminal responsibility in England and Wales is 10, and at 12 years old, Ray must stand trial in an adult court.
Based on a true story and told in two time frames, the film follows both the events that led up to the murder and the unfolding drama of the trial, taking us inside a young boy’s experience of the legal system and asking powerful questions about responsibility and redemption.
in England and Wales, 10 is the minimum age of criminal responsibility – meaning a 10-year-old accused of killing someone can be tried like an adult in a Crown Court in front of a jury, rather than in the youth courts.
A few concessions are made based on their young age, including their first name being used, lawyers not having to wear wigs and gowns, and being allowed to sit close to their lawyer or an appropriate adult.
But can a child that young understand what it means to commit a murder? Are they responsible for their actions? And what happens to them later in life if you convict them as an adult before they even become a teenager?
Those questions are at the heart of 12-year-old Ray’s story, which is told in new BBC drama Responsible Child – loosely based on a real-life case.
Ray, who loves playing video games, learning about space and watching reality shows, is on trial – alongside his big brother, Nathan, 21 – for a brutal murder.
After their abusive step-dad narrowly escapes prison for attacking Nathan with an axe, he returns to the overcrowded family home and starts being abusive to their mum. One night, the brothers go downstairs and stab him more than 60 times while he sleeps on the sofa.
It’s an attack so frenzied they almost cut his head off.
The story is based on that of Jerome and Joshua Ellis, who were 14 and 23 when they also killed their step-dad.
The preparation for Ray’s trial plays out in the present. We flash back repeatedly to the events that led him there, from the “ordinary” fear the boys live with under Scott’s rule, to Scott’s armed attack on Nathan, for which he is charged with attempted murder – only for charges to be dropped and Scott to return to the home more furious than ever.
It is, to put it mildly, an untenable situation. The flashback scenes throb with misery and dread. As Scott, Shaun Dingwall perfectly captures the bitter toxicity of a certain kind of man, slashing and burning his way through a pathetic life, thriving on the terror he causes in others.
The alternating of this timeline with the other dissipates the emotional tension and narrative torque, especially as this film’s court scenes are thin, dry things and the fine actors in them – including Michelle Fairley as the barrister Kerry and Stephen Campbell Moore as the child psychologist Dr Keaton – are given little to work with. She is there mostly to deliver snippets of legalese and look pained; he to look frustrated and avow on the stand that a child’s brain is less developed than an adult’s.
The lack of detail (Ray’s team reacts with horror, for example, when Nathan decides not to give evidence, but we are not told what it means, although it is clearly not good; the failure of social services is presented as a given) raises distracting questions about the process when we should be focusing on Ray.
There are clunky moments scattered about, too, when the pedagogic intent overrides the dramatic. “If you were 30 years old with your mind,” Kerry tells Ray at one point, “you’d be judged not fit to stand trial. But you’re not, Ray.” It’s a point made purely for the viewer’s benefit – for the character to utter it in that context serves no purpose other than to burden her 12-year-old client with further appreciation of the relentless absurdity and injustice of the world.
But if the first hour slows the pace and keeps the viewer at a slight distance, the last half-hour pulls things together – and us in. The interrogation of Ray on the stand, interspersed with memories from the night of the murder, followed by the two timelines collapsing after the trial as Ray suffers nightmares in his cell, brings everything home. Debbie Honeywood, as the boys’ mother, gives a pitch-perfect portrayal of a woman numbed, her selfhood utterly corroded after years of suffering and abuse from Scott and – we suspect – Ray and Nathan’s alcoholic father. The brief scene between her and Ray after the verdict is truly harrowing.
It works, overall, as drama. Will it work as agitprop? Will it prompt movement on the enduring injustice of judging children by the same standards as adults in trials? Ray, one of his team points out, is still years away from being legally able to buy a hamster. Who is responsible for this travesty? And who will take responsibility for change?
Tributes have flooded social media following the news that legendary England cricketer Bob Willis has died.
Instant flashbacks to Headingley 1981 and all that for many of us. I always admired this man, moreso in later years, warming to him on The Debate on Sky Sports with him being so dismissive on those dismal England performances.
His love of Bob Dylan (I hadn’t been aware of this) inspired me to entitle this tribute “Hurricane” – perhaps succinct when we remember his bowling and that devastation of the Aussies in ’81. I’ll post the song here too, trusting that it may have been an R.G.D favourite.
Willis’s family announced the tragic news on Tuesday afternoon following a short illness, having passed away at the age of 70.
“We are heartbroken to lose our beloved Bob, who was an incredible husband, father, brother and grandfather,” his family said in a statement.
Bob Willis ended his career with 325 Test wickets, which puts him fourth on the all-time list for England behind James Anderson, Ian Botham and Stuart Broad. His standout display at Headingley in taking eight wickets for 43 runs immortalised his legacy as one of the iconic displays in the third Ashes Test, swinging the series in England favour in what became known as ‘Botham’s Ashes’.
Having enjoyed a stellar playing career, taking 325 Test wickets in 90 matches for England, Willis enjoyed an equally impressive second career as a broadcaster, providing insight, analysis and entertainment throughout over more than 25 years with Sky Sports.
MARK BUTCHER
“He was a brilliant pundit, acerbic wit and, then away from that, one of the funniest, warmest and most generous people you could ever meet. He’s been incredible as far as his encouragement of the younger guys, which includes me, and he’ll be hugely missed by everybody.
Bob Willis was born in Sunderland to Ted Willis and his wife, Anne (nee Huntington), who moved south to Surrey when Ted became a radio subeditor and then a news executive at the BBC. Bob went to the Royal grammar school, Guildford, which was then a state school, and grew up playing endless cricket in his garden and at the local recreation ground with his elder brother, David.
He also embraced the 1960s by growing his hair and adding Dylan as an extra middle name. The broadcaster Christopher Martin-Jenkins faced him briefly in club cricket: he called him “a deceptively awkward-looking young beanpole, mop-haired, silent and mean”
On the 1976-77 tour of India, then the last place on earth one would expect a fast bowler to flourish, it all came right. He straightened his run, tore India apart in two of the tests, and was proclaimed by Wisden as “a bowler of genuine pace and indisputable class”. The following summer, when England again took back the Ashes, Willis was even more dominant, with 27 wickets in five Tests.
There was still a certain fragility – of body, mind and technique. But Mike Brearley, who had now replaced Tony Greig as England captain, was a great admirer. “He was quick, awkward, liable to move the ball in with his natural inswing, and occasionally the ball would hold and go the other way off the seam,” he said.
Willis was constantly seeking to improve as well and saw a Sydney hypnotherapist who helped him work on his stamina by going on long runs. “I think this suited him by getting him in the zone,” said Brearley, who also noticed Willis emerge as a major influence when he was promoted to vice-captain in 1978. “He was a great team man, passionate, impatient of frivolity or looseness. If someone was not pulling their weight, he would insist, ‘They should be told’.”
His broadcasting style was lugubrious, and not to everyone’s taste. During a Test in Lahore he took an ill-advised walk round the boundary and was greeted by the Barmy Army of England fans with the chant: “Boring Bob, Boring Bob, Boring Bobby Willis!”
But he was forthright in comment and remained part of Sky’s main commentary team for nearly 20 years before retreating to the post-match analysis feature, The Debate, a format that suited him well: he could produce withering put-downs and umpteen plans to reform county cricket. Away from cricket, maturity took him towards opera and away from Bob Dylan.
He was always an interesting, wide-ranging, slightly melancholy character and even that Barmy Army chant was tinged with affection. Bob was a true son of the game and cricket will miss him.
PAUL ALLOTT
“Bob was just a sweet, sweet guy. He was always kind and considerate, but tough as well. Tough as old boots.
“Yet beneath that quite stern exterior that he portrayed on Sky Sports, there was a heart of gold. He was a hugely kind and gentle individual.
“I also think it worth saying that it isn’t the only thing that he had. There was his love of Bob Dylan, which is very well documented – he could recite the lyrics to every song that Bob wrote and would do so at certain times of night if given the right encouragement! He was an interesting and interested man, he was always looking to learn new things or to be enthralled by new stuff.”
“It is difficult because we were the very best of friends and we were together at the end.
“I was there when Bob passed away, with Lauren, his wife, and Katie, his daughter, in Wimbledon this afternoon. It was a peaceful passing, but it was obviously a hugely emotional moment.
From Bob to Bob
Gower was in the England side, inspired by Willis and Ian Botham’s heroics, that famously fought back to beat the Australians against all odds in 1981.
“Headingley was a brilliant moment, the irony was they tried to drop him before that Test match, so that was him making a point and he was very good at doing that during his career,” Gower, 62, told BBC Radio 5 live.
“He has always been making points and he makes them very firmly. Anyone seeing that game would have seen a burning bright passion coming through the eyes.
“There is a huge contrast to Bob, a lot of people have seen him on programmes where his trenchant opinion is put across in great style. He was very forthright on players of the current generation, but behind it all is a very different character. He was multi-faceted.
“He was a huge Bob Dylan fan, in fact he changed his name to Robert George Dylan Willis by deed poll, which tells its own story, and he could tell you any Dylan lyric. He was a bright man, very good company and a wine connoisseur.
“He was very civilised and erudite, maybe too erudite for most, he didn’t suffer fools gladly. He was very eclectic in all sorts of things. He was passionate about cricket, and the way he talked about it too.”
Willis was a huge Bob Dylan fan – even changing his name by deed poll
Willis represented Surrey for the first two years of his professional career before spending 12 years at Warwickshire, finishing with 899 wickets from 308 first-class matches at an average of 24.99.
Despite needing surgery on both knees in 1975, he became one of the finest fast bowlers of his generation, playing another nine years and claiming his 325 Test wickets at an impressive average of 25.20.
Bob will be sadly missed not just by the cricket world but by all of those who knew him and whose lives he touched. I believe the world has lost a loving, generous and honourable man today.
May you rest in peace now.
CREDITATION
The Telegraph, The Times, The Independent, The Guardian, talkSPORT, Sky Sports, BBC Sport, Getty Images.
Acid Mouse Music 