I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air,
They fly so high,
Nearly reach the sky,
Then like my dreams,
They fade and die.
Fortune's always hiding,
I've looked everywhere,
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air.
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Friday, May 18, 2012
Big Saturday beckons
Good luck to Jedward, Leinster, Spurs, Chelsea and most importantly the 'Ammers. We know about the fear so stay calm.
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air,
They fly so high,
Nearly reach the sky,
Then like my dreams,
They fade and die.
Fortune's always hiding,
I've looked everywhere,
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air.
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air,
They fly so high,
Nearly reach the sky,
Then like my dreams,
They fade and die.
Fortune's always hiding,
I've looked everywhere,
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Championship play-off - West Ham v Blackpool
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Mensa test - total failure
Test 1 - the challenge to retrive a ticket from a exit turnstile. Clue - don't look in the entrance turnstile.
You're Spurs and you know you are
Oldest trick in the book - lull the keeper into a false sense of security with chants of "You're Spurs and you know you are", "Yiddo" and "England, England's number one" and then sit back and watch as he loses concentration and dreamily fails to cover the far post at the free kick.
Then watch him make a despairing attempt to stop Kyle Walker's thunderbolt from hitting the back of the net.
Then watch him make a despairing attempt to stop Kyle Walker's thunderbolt from hitting the back of the net.
Gooner at large
Efforts to finally rid ourselves of the meddlesome Russian, Chelski, reached new heights when we tried to draw attention, in the "packed" Spurs shop, to the fact that he was a Gooner in disguise. The only thing they hate more over at the Lane than an Arsenal fan is a miserable, mean European bureaucrat who eats Tatyo crisps.
The Irish diaspora and Tayto
Don't you just love the graceful way Brusselsblue accepts the Tayto each year?
Always smiling, willing to turn up at prresentation ceremonies at all hours of the day or night and to shake hands (next he'll be cuddling babies) with anyone willing to give him something for nothing. Never asking, sorry giving, anything in return and having the dignty to wait until the Eurostar has pulled ut of St Pancras before opening the first packet and eating them all himself.
The act is highly symbolic - a nation on it's knees, without the arse in its' trousers, scrambling together to raise a few bob to send to those "less fortunate" who had to go overseas in the hope of bettering themselves. And them fuckers having the life of Reilly, at dinner parties, theatres and Irish clubs every night of the week and writing home less than once a month.
Like the 50's but not the 50's if you know what I mean.
Always smiling, willing to turn up at prresentation ceremonies at all hours of the day or night and to shake hands (next he'll be cuddling babies) with anyone willing to give him something for nothing. Never asking, sorry giving, anything in return and having the dignty to wait until the Eurostar has pulled ut of St Pancras before opening the first packet and eating them all himself.
The act is highly symbolic - a nation on it's knees, without the arse in its' trousers, scrambling together to raise a few bob to send to those "less fortunate" who had to go overseas in the hope of bettering themselves. And them fuckers having the life of Reilly, at dinner parties, theatres and Irish clubs every night of the week and writing home less than once a month.
Like the 50's but not the 50's if you know what I mean.
The Bengal Tiger - a symbolic appearance on a stormy night
What the photograph below does not reveal is the fact that the Bengal Tiger did not hand out any savage mauling on the night, sitting on its' pedestal and observing that its' normal rituals (focused dismemberment of innocent unsuspecting victims) was being handled admirably well by another of its' species, Brusselblue.
Mike hopefully your experience around the role of Brian D'Arcy in the church will teach you not to challenge the might of the Europeans ever again. And if you do decide to engage with any Germans in the near future, keep your trap shut because your naive innocence in thinking these people will listen to your side of the argument will land people like me and Gerry in trouble as well. So zip it in future, the peasants in Ireland have no right to free speech.
Mike hopefully your experience around the role of Brian D'Arcy in the church will teach you not to challenge the might of the Europeans ever again. And if you do decide to engage with any Germans in the near future, keep your trap shut because your naive innocence in thinking these people will listen to your side of the argument will land people like me and Gerry in trouble as well. So zip it in future, the peasants in Ireland have no right to free speech.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Carlton Cole at 20/1
Never bet on a West Ham striker - let down by Robbie Keane last year and by Carlton Cole this year.
In better form than last year
Phoenix from the flames
Brilliant photograph in yesterday's Times by Bradley Ormesher featuring a on-pitch conflict between Niall Quinn (whose disco pants are the best) and Gerry Taggart. It mentioned that Ormesher was Sports Photographer of the Year a few times and a Google search revealed some of his classic photos, two of which are below.
The second one is of the horrible tackle which ended David Busst's career at Old Trafford. Also came across a picture of Ormesher mimicking a soldier in Red Square and I immediately thought of Mise Le Meas's brilliant impersonations over the weekend - first of Bobby Moore holding the Cup in 66 and then of Geoff Hurst scoring the fourth goal - "They think it's all over - it is now".
Monday, April 30, 2012
Boleyn Inn London EC4
How do we best describe Saturday afternoon in the Boleyn Inn?
A further experience in life’s rich tapestry; a near-death experience; a foolish decision we got away with or a good laugh and a chance to sing about bubbles as though they were central to our existence.
All of these I think.
Maybe it’s that we’re getting old and I can’t face this kind of thing anymore. My diminishing ability to
1. blend in with these people if needed
2. rationalise with them if 1 doesn’t work
3. run if 2 doesn’t work
may be influencing my decision but whatever way you look at it, Saturday’s experience is right up there is terms of dodgy moments I could have done without. I also have to admit that with sparring partners in Chelski and Lise Le Meas, it was evident that most of us were going to be leading with our chins in any boxing matches which did break out. I decided not to share my concerns with them just in case it unnerved them, thus making us stand out more than my Irish accent and grey hair was allowing. Instead I sang the first verse of “I’m forever blowing bubbles” over and over again and tried to look as though I was there deliberately. And me missing my blood pressure tablets, fucking hell.
I still haven’t recovered.
A further experience in life’s rich tapestry; a near-death experience; a foolish decision we got away with or a good laugh and a chance to sing about bubbles as though they were central to our existence.
All of these I think.
Maybe it’s that we’re getting old and I can’t face this kind of thing anymore. My diminishing ability to
1. blend in with these people if needed
2. rationalise with them if 1 doesn’t work
3. run if 2 doesn’t work
may be influencing my decision but whatever way you look at it, Saturday’s experience is right up there is terms of dodgy moments I could have done without. I also have to admit that with sparring partners in Chelski and Lise Le Meas, it was evident that most of us were going to be leading with our chins in any boxing matches which did break out. I decided not to share my concerns with them just in case it unnerved them, thus making us stand out more than my Irish accent and grey hair was allowing. Instead I sang the first verse of “I’m forever blowing bubbles” over and over again and tried to look as though I was there deliberately. And me missing my blood pressure tablets, fucking hell.
I still haven’t recovered.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Good morning, sir
Listen you Asian dickhead, I'm from Brussels, the EU you know, and this hotel is fucking shit - thirty-five squid to check in early, five zubes for wifi, saharan temperatures and worst of all someone's stolen my undercrackers. Get it sorted or we're taking our trade to Jury's.
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