Thursday, October 28, 2004

October 9 (Saturday): Sad Songs Are Nature’s Onions. Saturday morning and last night I had/have another dream. Today’s dream I emerge from involves the wellbeing of my flat and mainly the communal area and the landing outside my door. At some point in the dream, I open my door to leave my flat to discover that the landing has been smashed to pieces and the bars on the staircase have almost all been knocked out. I appear to be leaving my flat to meet up with/welcome old school faces back into my world/life, the main two school faces being Greg Nelson (whose Dad I have been seeing at Wilson Marriage Centre lately) and Merrem Jones. My initial suspicions are that they have something to do with the general decay but then I also wonder whether the mess is down to my “hunk� neighbour who actually looks like a tarted up David Platt. What on earth should I do/read into this dream? Jason, leave all thoughts of school behind.

Once up, I can’t help but get bang on the Playstation 2 again and get more in FIFA 2005. This game gets better with each play and when I play as England vs Wales, we win 2-0 with Rooney getting both goals. Looks a good bet to me. I also find myself almost texting Louise, the West Ham fan, when Millwall (me) beats West Ham 5-0 to tell her how realistic the game is.

I also MSN with Sara some, who is…….somewhere.

Mid morning, the joys of getting my phoneline back from the internet because of installing broadband hits home when some Asian cunt is on the line trying to get me to change my phone line and “save me money at no extra cost�. And he phones me just as Polly the trolley dolly is on kids TV in her French maids outfit. Motherfucker. I get a bit arsey on the phone to the guy, god knows what fucking country he is calling me from. When he asks me if I ever phone abroad I shout “NO WAY!�. The arsehole pronounces my surname wrongly, which rubs me up the wrong way and when he tells me he is about to transfer me to his manager (the closer) I begins shouting down the line “what are you on about? What are you doing?�. He promptly says “bye� but indeed succeeds in managing to piss me off, albeit with a little snigger on my part.

I tell Sara about it and then leave for home to watch the football. I stop off via Tesco and buy Eternal Sunshine Of A Spotless Mind on DVD just because I feel like watching it again.

I arrive home in good time, catching some new satirical radio shows on Radio 2 I now really enjoy, its as if The Treatment never went away.

England v Wales turns out to be a really wanky match. England are the source of no end of disappointment in our nation of football fans and this only highlights why. Today Erection is playing with three up front, an utter sign of disrespect for Wales but also a reality of lost souls up front, getting in each others ways. And Michael Owen is the worst, with things going wrong for him at Real Madrid, he only serves to act completely out for himself on the face of today’s performance, right up to the way he lays claim for Frank Lampard’s goal. And Lampard’s goal is a fantastic relief when it flies in, its scarily good how many goals he is scoring for England from midfield. Hey, its not as if the truly overrated Jermaine Defoe is going to actually do anything. The game actually turns out to be a minor shambles and a Wales equaliser would probably have been deserved before half time and would most certainly have made it a better match/game. The second half happens and turns out to be notorious for the actions of David Beckham and little else. Granted his goal is fucking extraordinary but his actions in fouling Ben Thatcher (ex-Millwall) and getting booked only taste/smell of an arrogant primadonna retaliating with an air of “how dare you foul me, I’m a superstar and untouchable�. Beckham just reminds me of certain people I used to know at school, the untouchables, the ones who were head of the football teams (the jocks) and actually appeared to be feared by the teachers. Then again, these are also the people I see these days trawling kids around, looking unemployed and the people who do not appear on Friends United because they’re obviously too poor to be online. What happened, didn’t your football careers happen for you? Rant over. (In the following days, Beckham’s subsequent comments only reveal him to be more backwards than I thought but realise). I don’t know, the attitude just reminds me of things I see playing five-a-side sometimes.

The game ends in disappointment but at least it was a victory. Focus soon switches to Eurosport (?) where Northern Ireland v Azerbaijan is on. I watch the game for about five minutes and suddenly feel like slashing my throat, it is very bad. And the country playing Northern Ireland just looks like a bunch of Taliban rejects/wannabes. The games ends a predictable 0-0 but luckily I don’t waste much of my life on it.

Saturday evening turns out to be France v Republic Of Ireland live on BBC2. For some reason, there is something almost romantic about international football from France on a Saturday night, I can’t just transport my mindset across the channel and a glorious Parisian night (albeit stereotypical). This match turns out to be game of the day by a mile, the football Ireland plays is actually exciting and unconventional. On paper, the Irish team is pretty pants but this is a team with heart and fight. And especially against such a lacklustre team as France should definitely not be. Sadly though, the most memorable part of the first half does turn out to be Roy Keane running off the pitch having to change his pants. As the game carries, it becomes evident that Ireland are the much more dangerous team of the two and the Arsenal “superstars� really do not appear to have any game whatsoever. Towards the end of the game, as I find myself asking “who goes Clinton Morrison actually play for?�, they almost sneak a win against a most impotent French team which really should not be. The game however ends at 0-0 after a thrilling end. Now they just need to put Steven Reid back in the team (ho ho).

I leave late for a Saturday night (around 10pm) listening to Westward on the radio except its just some guy standing in and, more so than Timothy, he is the bomb. When I get in, I don’t last long and get lost to the evening.

np: Nas – Bridging The Gap


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