OK, it is nearly the weekend, so as no bugger is reading, I can get away with a sports post.
1) The buggers picked Giles and left Panesar out. Skip the next couple of lines if you are of a delicate disposition.
Buggery bollocks. Fucking shit sucking camel shagging goat molesting arse mining third rate wankers.
I hope Australia win by an innings and 450.
2) Let us take a moment to reflect on the contributions to human joy of Ferenc Puskas who died last weekend. My earliest memory of watching a match on TV was the 1960 European Cup Final. The memory has been blurred by seeing highlights many times since, and I was certainly too young to realise just how spectacular that Real Madrid team was. Before Pele came along (and by 1960 he had only just begun to come along) either Alfredo di Stefano or Ferenc Puskas was the best player in the world (should that be ‘were’, FFE? Oh, sorry I forgot, you are no longer qualified to correct me) and they both played for the same team. There have been a handful of players since who were in their class, but, Pele aside, none who could be proved to be better. If you have never seen them, then my assertion would be that di Stefano was like Thierry Henry, but even better, and Puskas was as exciting to watch as Bobby Charlton, but even better. If you watch the 1960 match you will wonder how anyone ever managed to stop Puskas. It seemed as if he would get the ball somewhere near halfway, power past two or three defenders and shoot from anywhere from 10 yards to 35 yards out, and the shot would be unstoppable. It is possible that if he were playing for Chelsea now then my image would be entirely different; I prefer my memories.
3) Er ….
4) That’s it.