Match Report: Morecambe v Bradford City 1.10.2024

As a relatively new follower of Morecambe Football Club, I haven't seen the best of them in terms of results lately. Five league games in a row losing by one goal to nil*, is going to be, well, frustrating for even the most hardened fan. Yesterday's game against Bradford City, however, was a fine advert for the league, and football as a whole.

I felt the ever coldening chill of the October evening as I walked from a prior engagement in the West End of Morecambe to the home end at the Mazuma Mobile Arena, but the brisk walk gave me some bodily warmth to start the evening off. As I met my pal M, I was feeling good; the kind of lazy optimism of the ignorant gave me some butterflies, whilst the budding statistician in me cleared their throat at the idea of the three points on offer actually being claimed.

As me and M took our place in the stand, the announcer was keen to point out the inclement temperature and wind, and how that was better motivation for us to show our appreciation of the Shrimpettes - Morecambe's cheerleading arm. The same could be said for the team; I was certainly happy to be wearing trousers and a coat and not having to run 10km in 90 minutes.

The first half was an unmitigated joy. The reds were as speedy, proactive, and organised as I'd ever seen them, sharing a pretty even possession with their counterparts, fashioning regular chances, and, helped by an assured performance by keeper Stuart Moore, were not too troubled at the back.

Looking back, I am shocked that the opening goal, coming as an own goal off Bradford's Diabate, happened in the fifth minute. It felt a lot later than that. But then, when hanging on to a single goal lead, your perception of time gets stretched all over the place. I remember the action for the goal in the Bradford box at the opposite end from where I stood. I saw that the ball was pea-rolling toward their goal line, but so slow that I just assumed that a Bradford player would clear it at any minute. Eventually, the cheers of my fellow Morecumbrians sank into my ears, and I was elated to realise we were ahead.

Morecambe were positive in their build up, and professional at the back, keeping their shape well and, amid spirited forays by the visitors, looked the better side. They may have easily converted one of the many promising moves if not for a better pass, or a slip by the Bantams.

I always enjoy watching the Morecambe young'uns practising their penalties at half time. I imagine myself at that age, what a pleasure and a privilege it would be to kick that ball into the back of the net, and I mused upon the care and professionalism that the staff show these little ones. It dawns on me, however, that even after ten minutes without chanting and clapping the cold has started to set back into my body. Come on second half, start already!

The second half belonged to Bradford City, if any team. They were much more assured in possession and grew in attacking confidence. Morecambe remained impressively resolute in defence, but their waning energy in attack - even after bringing in their number nine - felt ominous. At one point, a prolonged period of head-volleyball between the two sets of players had me cursing. 'Keep it on the deck,' I said under my breath. 'Thread it through the middle, stop overusing that right-hand side!'

Despite my amateur managerial machinations, Morecambe looked like they were going to survive Bradford's sustained periods of pressure to come away with their first three-pointer of the season. Until, that is, the 88th minute. Yet another assault on Morecambe'a goal saw Shepherd rise the highest to head the ball into the left top bin, past Moore's outstretched fingers, which had done so well in every other movement of the evening. Bradford had another couple of chances to claim three points, and Morecambe themselves had a pair of unlikely attempts themselves to write very pleasing headlines for the seaside town. As it was, though, the points were shared between the teams.

I spoke to a Bradford fan in local pub The Exchange afterwards. Whereas they felt very much that City had dropped two points against a poor team and damaged their chances in the league going forward, I felt that two sides were quite evenly matched. Perhaps a trick of biased perspective, I felt that Morecambe had slightly the better chances, but that is no consolation when you aren't taking them. Me and my mate left the stadium saying that one point is better than none, and we hope the lads and the manager are proud of their overwhelmingly positive performance. One point per match will surely become three if the tireless endeavour the Shrimps showed continues, met by a little more finishing prowess up top.

Thanks as ever to Christie.

*the last game I saw was between Morscambe and Newport County, which ended 0-1

Back to Bad. Minton.

I've been back playing badminton now for about two months. Before that, it had been about seven years since I'd played, back in the days of doing my BA at Ole Edge Hill. It was great to get back to playing, like an existential homecoming. Not only is badminton one of the only competitive sports I've ever played with any regularity - and therefore become reasonably good at - but also it used to get me out the house and socialising in a meaningful way, and all these feelings and memories ran back to me, arms open wide. I'm incredibly lucky to have been introduced to the group I'm going to, which itself is lucky that the EU has funded it, and thankful. As the memories mill around my mind like lazy gas molecules, I got to thinking about the badminton-based writing I used to do on this very blog, so went back and had a read.

Faintly amusing I find those posts. Generally they comprise of me evaluating my performance, or moaning about some perceived social injustice wrought against me, alongside thrilling thoughts on Liverpool FC's latest match. I remember how it was, though, going pushing myself as hard as I could for a couple of hours, having plenty of laughs, then walking out into the cold, dark air, feeling also the chill of loneliness as I walked home, past the wooden fencing around the hospital that made a zoetrope of the wall behind, and in through the front door. I'd go from joking and exercising with everybody, to being by myself. Then I'd usually have a bit to eat, a shower, and a blog, and felt purposeful again.

Occasionally I would attempt to uncover - poetics-like - some nugget of wisdom about my badminton practise (how to play better, what makes a good player, etc), and I'm pleased with myself on that front. But anyway, whatever I think of having written it all, it doesn't matter. It's there. The most interesting thing to note was how I used to react to my performance. I'm a lot less celebratory after a win these days, rarely even opting for a fist-pump (does that suggest that there's less to fist-pump about?). I could be very puerile, as I let myself get carried away in the genuine elation, but this had been perceived to be trying to rub it in people's faces, which I don't, and never have, agreed with.

My reactions to losing are pretty similar. I'm still not bothered if I lose games, and still find dropping points with poor play disappointing, i.e. where I know I should've done better. However, I'm nowhere near as aggressive with myself as I used to be (there'd be an inner dialogue going on that would make a telepathic sailor blush), and in general now I look forward to the next shot, rather than dwelling on the one I've missed. Good advice for life, methinks. Indeed, some of these tools help interpersonally, too. There are a few people at the place I go to now that like to laugh at you when you miss a shot. I find this annoying, because I'm a stupid man-child with a hugely over-sensitive disposition, and an unfortunately robust ego, even after all this time and effort. That being said, when people do laugh, I take it on the chin, and by breathing and contextualising it better, the knot of annoyance is gone in a moment. Part of the contextualising can be thinking about how, objectively, a complete air-shot might look funny - like physical comedy, as it were - to others. Also, there's the fact that all you can control is trying to hit that shot, and your reaction. You missed, so what? Try and hit the next one. You can't control how other people take anything, so don't try. Let it be.

Anyway, I didn't expect this all to go on quite so long, and then turn into a weird Buddhist sermon at the end... So goodbye for now! Hope you feel inspired to dust off an old hobby, or even start a new one, after reading this :)

Bye!

CALL TO ARMS - EMERGENCY MEETING OF 'SCARF'

From the Liverpool Echo's site:
http://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk/incoming/gallery/everton-goodison-park-7051684

Right folks, enough is enough. As if Liverpool losing 5-0 to Man City and Everton getting stuffed 4-0 by United over a month ago wasn't enough, just this weekend we've had The Reds being done in by Spurs, 4-1 (at their supposedly 'cursed' Wembley ground), and Everton slumping to a 5-2 defeat at the feet of Arsenal, preceding their manager's exit. This is too troubling to let slide!

I propose an emergency meeting of 'SCARF' - the Scouse Association for Remedying Football - which will have powers to call upon the government to inject millions of pounds into our footy funds, ready for the January transfer window. In addition to this, we will have the initiative to try and bring sanctions against all other clubs, especially the Mancunian ones, for deliberately lacking a sense of humour and 'winning too much'.

Football is a rich and varied sport, full of fantastic athletes, scenes of high drama and, ultimately, families of fans just wanting to enjoy themselves. SCARF will try to fix the current, woeful situation of madness on Merseyside, and bring back some of that 'score goaling' I've heard so much about in other clubs' games.

SCARF president, Maggie McCartney, has commented, "Scousers have often had a different outlook on life, from the rich diversity of cultures that the docks and universities brought into the city, to the way political ideologies - especially those of Mrs Thatcher - have bred a sense of outsiderness in England. Our outlook in football is no different. For many years, Liverpool - especially - have been, if anything, overly concerned with winning. This year, we are seeing a fresh and beautiful expression of playing well and getting no results. It seems, however, that other clubs are stubbornly rolling along with outdated ideas of 'trying to put the ball in the back of the net', ultimately for three points. My organisation will seek to level the playing field any way it can, and, with a little luck, get Scousers back on top."

Theresa May has yet to expand on her earlier comment, "What is a Liverpool?"

Just As Well

You know the drill: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Martin-Palmer5

Sorry blog friends, I'm ill again and not up to producing my usual high standard of blogcraft. I just got over a cold earlier in the month, and had hoped that I had at least enough antibodies to keep me healthy for, oh, I don't know, maybe a bloody fortnight at least... And to top it all [or 'bottom', really], I've just had another session of surgery on my toe nail. It's been pretty painful this last couple of weeks, and I'm sure you'll thank me for not sharing a picture of all the discharge I've been dealing with. Anyway, now that I've completely annoyed and sickened you all with my moaning and disgusting truths, I'd like to take the time to assure that, despite the current situation breeding a 'f*** it' kind of atmosphere - one in which I'd really rather like to crack open a bottle of something strong and unwind in front of an action film - I am still sober. I was even offered a taste of two new beers from Tiny Rebel that came into the shop yesterday, but I turned down even the possibility of spitting it out after tasting, just in case I accidentally swallowed any. 

There was another great opportunity to sling a couple of beers down my neck on Monday, during the Liverpool game against Man U, but I didn't take it. It's interesting, especially since I've talked before about how I perceive alcohol to change the passage of time, that I think the pace of a game [even a big one like that] seemed the same, despite being on Beck's Blue shandy [I had a bottle of the stuff recently that tasted like vomit - yes it was in date - and I wanted to try it with lemonade to try and avoid that awfulness]. The first half seems to go quite slowly. Especially in a game where you are waiting for someone to burst the dam and let the flood waters free, I think. But then the second half rockets by, until about seventy minutes in, then eighty minutes crawls as you're checking the clock to see how likely a goal could be at this stage, to see how long a substitute has to change the game [giving Origi four minutes wasn't inspired. He's a decent enough player to be given longer, but hey, it is what it is now], and whatever else.

I suppose the biggest difference between the drunk and the sober game-watching is probably emotion. You get more vocal when drinking, usually, and of course you can 'forget yourself' a little bit and can get even more absorbed in the game because you're not conscious of so much of the stuff you're usually worrying about. The big thing with the drink is the fact that it's a depressant and, come win, lose or draw, you can find your mood dip after leaving the social circle you've just been enjoying. But I don't want to get too far into this, being as though I find the same thing happens when I'm sober after playing sport [I always assumed it was as the endorphins wore of], or even just on a quiet day one can go up and then very down. That's depression for ya.

It was a tense affair [though some have said 'turgid'], one where efforts by either side to be more proactive in attack could've left spaces in the defense that might've proven a weakness. Had it been a six-goal thriller, I could easily have, without thinking, had big gulps of a beer and ended up drinking lots, so it's just as well the result was goalless. Had Liverpool won, I would've been tempted to celebrate, had it been a loss I might've wanted to drown my sorrows.

Now, if you were to ask me if the result was fair, I'd probably say it was justice. Well...

Funny Story

Tonight I watched England play Slovenia in a pub. I was in the pub, the players were on a pitch in Ljubljana... Anyway, I know what you're thinking, 'With no limiting effects on your concentration and memory, you must really have enjoyed that game tonight.' Well you're wrong. So horrendously wrong...

Watching the England men's team crawl to a draw tonight was like living through a hangover induced by consuming a Trump-sized [and shaped] vessel of cheap lager. If anything, it has done more damage to my well-being than any chemicals could. My non-dampened senses only served to make me perceive the horror of a game where all our best periods of play were assisting the opposition attack even more keenly.

I'm not saying that Gareth Southgate's England are as woeful as Theresa May's England, far from it. All I'm saying is that they become less and less inspiring to me, and it's becoming an effort to watch them. On paper they're great individuals, with who knows how much potential, but then it seems they lack a plan, basic errors abound [tonight it seemed all the members of the team were trying to win a game of football chicken with Joe Hart] and I can't see us beating anyone. I'm quite miserable now, but at least come November when I'm back drinking [and when Scotland beat us] I'll be miserable and drunk.

Oh come on, would you really deny me pain relief while I sit through this stuff? That would be cruel.

If you're waiting for the punchline to this 'funny story', it is this: if I'd had my drinks tonight, I wouldn't be in any shape to write such a long and lifeless post, and you wouldn't have had to have read it. So is beer really all that bad?

Just About

I noticed that twenty people looked at/clicked on my last football post, and that was all I needed to blabber on again about the same topic!

So: Liverpool v Notts County...

We were ahead 2-0 at half time. I was worried we'd switch off. We switched off. They scored, then they equalised.

It's The Capital One Cup, so to extra time we went.

We (finally) scored two more to make it 4-2. We just about made it.

Hard not to make Sturridge man of the match, though many of Gerrard's passes were so sublime he's a close second. Rogers' subs didn't make as much impact as I'd have thought they would, to be fair, but hey, we won.

Well done to Notts County for sticking it to us - we really had to "dig deep" to pull our fingers out our arses and win.

Cancelled Out

Got to see my first game of the new Premier League season today (well, technically yesterday now...). Not a Liverpool game, but I was excited because it featured two top-four heavyweights: Man United and Chelsea.

I didn't think they played at their technical best, nor at their highest tempo, but they definitely made up for it with application. There were a handful of very risky tackles (three or four of them were certainly dangerous fouls - high-speed slides that caught the man first), but apparently there's a new 'emphasis' in the rules that means you get more chances to cripple someone before you're carded. Unless you touch Van Persie, in which case it's a direct red.

Yeah the passing could be quite slow, and, where it was quick, moves seemed (and I stress the word 'seemed', it's not like this slug of an author could ever be an expert in these matters) to come off by accident. That being said, some of the moves came off well with relatively end-to-end play and plenty of scrappy, tooth-and-nail, who-wants-it-more kinda action in-between, where hunger somersaulted over clinicality (apart from RVP's 'Marseille roullette' on the edge of Chelsea's box in the first half) to produce a decent amount of entertainment.

Neither keeper was too busy, Rooney was clear man of the match and a draw is a very fair result. Done.

Liverpool are next playing Notts County in the Capital One Cup, 27.8.2013 1945hrs.

See you in the pub.

Simple

All I want is to pass on an image, an image imparted to me by a dear aunt. Please forward all royalties and gratuities to her:

Football fans cheering because they've found a chunk of meat in their pie.

Thanks.

A Decent-Sized Roller Coaster

Probably more like 'The Tornado' in Morecambe's [ex] Frontierland than the 'Pepsi Max' at Blackpool's Pleasure Beach but you get what you're given. As you all know from my constant whining, I don't get to see the football matches I want, or the amount I want (first world problems...), but tonight was rare in that I did get to see Liverpool play. Half of their game against Arsenal, but you get what you're given (HORSE).

I come into the pub just as the first half finishes. One - nil to us I see, Suarez has scored I see, 'excellent' I think. I get my drink and impatiently await the second half (seriously, waiting for it was almost as tense as my last blood test results, but I digress...). Seeing Hendo's goal was just magical. Sustained pressure from our lads, a bit of a lucky rebound but then the cool head to side-foot around an outstretched keeper and into the back of the net. Riding pretty damn high.

Then within seven or eight minutes we were drawing... It was kind of funny in a way, we've not being doing well against higher-table teams, and this was comedy by repetition. How could we throw that lead away?

Where oh where could Arsenal's first goal come from? A set piece? Absolutely! That was the funniest, they had two really ridiculous dives (one drawn from Lucas, the next from Agger). Neither had any contact, as replays showed, but at least one of them resulted in a yellow card for the dive, rather than the false offence (take that Giroud :P). But anyways, the first goal came from a free-kick. It wasn't an inspirational take by Giroud, but it was perfectly weighted and placed. Reina didn't have much of a chance, and all I say is fair play to Arsenal there, good fighting spirit.

Their next one... blimey... They seemed to be doing what we wanted to do but much better. That knock-around between midfield and front line, casual yet precise as you like, before our defenders are so confused a goal seems almost inevitable. A ball breaks out to Walcott (when's he going to be thirty, I wonder...) and from a pretty damn tight angle, he bends it around Reina. Past couple of years I've not been Reina's 'biggest fan'. He's making more errors and doing less of the basics correctly. This one, not to take anything away from a great strike by Walcott, I think Reina could have adjusted his feet a lot better (he had the time, he could have seen it coming) and should have stretched his arm out across the trajectory the ball took.

Brendan Rogers, our glorious manager, is entitled to sleep very well tonight, despite 'losing two points' (if that's how you want to look at it). Playing a 4-3-3 was a good idea, plenty of attacking possibilities, bringing the fight to the 'enemy' rather than stagnating at the back. Again, I only saw a couple of highlights from the first half so I'm no expert (as if I would be anyway...), but it seemed to be paying plenty of dividends. Since Arsenal started scoring though, for a while it didn't look like they would stop. Walcott, after his goal, seemed like a man possessed, I have a few brown stains on these pants of mine. Rogers saw this, and introduced another defender onto the pitch. It was great in the sense Arsenal didn't score again, but you could tell from that point on that our attack suffered slightly. Suarez and Henderson got caught in 'pass tennis' rather than going forward at one point, which was, I think, a direct result of the substitution. But then Sturridge (who was taken off) squandered a fair few chances. One of the reasons I didn't want him to come to the club was because of how he behaved today: trying ridiculous shots on his own for personal glory, rather than being less of a dong and passing it to a team-mate clearly in loads of empty space.

But that's the question. Should we have attacked and tried to get the three points, or defended a one-point profit. Personally, it doesn't matter. What I saw of the game was so compelling, I might just have been happy to lose outright. To get such a deserved result can be refreshing, no matter what it is. For once it didn't come down to bad decisions. What was ultimately great was that Liverpool fought hard at the end. It didn't work out perfectly, but what ever does? You get what you're given.

Free Flowing, They Said. Free Scoring, They Said...

Being doomed to have work shifts fall on just about every Liverpool game this season, I was as excited as an American at a gunsmiths to get the chance to watch some of the African Cup of Nations today. When I saw Tunisia were playing Algeria on ITV4 I got giddy and imagined all the blistering pace, stunning technical ability and goals that were about to float my boat. What a let-down. Very reminiscent of having sex with me, in fact.

There was one goal, saving it from being the worst game I've ever seen, but that came after ninety-two minutes of football. Yeah not every African nation can be the Ivory Coast, but I was incredulous at how sloppy the play was. So many passes either failed to find their man or were hit way too hard. The level of awareness was shocking too, incisive passes weren't even tried because players seemed over-keen on either going it alone or passing to someone a metre away. I just wondered if they were actually scared of scoring, since simple forward movement was eschewed for small side-to-side or backward passes. This is very different to, say, Liverpool's play. They focus on keeping possession and keeping the ball on the ground, but when they pass backward it's (sometimes) snappy, so the opposition are chasing ghosts. I'm sure to get plenty of hate now for using Liverpool as an example of how to play good football, but hey!

Sure the referee didn't help the game's case. The players fell over at slight touches and he bought it completely. That's excusable because he can't help that people are trying to dupe him. What really took the biscuit was giving a foul for basically every time two players challenged for a ball in the air, whether there was serious contact or not. It seemed at times the game was stopped more than it was actually going. If you added up the stoppage time properly, I think it probably came to about another half.

Anyway, I'm sure the rest of the tournament will be great. Didn't get to see the Togo v Ivory Coast game but I hear it was much more exciting.

Next I'll probably get to writing something awesome, that you might actually want to read. I had a couple of friends saying they wanted to read something dark I wrote a long time ago, but I'll have to do a bit more soul searching and drinking before I do...

Peace out.

Ooookay

So, not much to write about today (why bother then) - who said that? Erm, yeah I've been really busy with uni work and also had to cover a shift at work yesterday meaning I had even less time. I think I'm on track though... Have had to sacrifice a night out with friends to be on the safe side (oh boo-hoo) - seriously who keeps doing that? As I was saying, I'm trying to be sensible so everything's done in plenty of time. Turns out my post '+ve' is all a lie too, so that's a little disappointing (aww diddums) - hey! Stoppit.

Good stuff... good stuff... Oh yeah, Liverpool beat Norwich 5-0 today, pretty impressed by that. Didn't get to see it of course... but hey. I guess that's the power of football, I still felt good about the score and the way we played just by reading text commentary (you only like winning because you're such a loser) - cut that out! Seriously, don't make me come down there.

Also feeling good about going back to uni next week. It's a very good place to be. Some good events coming up, looking forward to the next workshop, so that's pretty groovy.

Yep, that's about it. Feel free to unsuscribe at any point by the way. I don't want you to but, y'know, I can't force you to carry on...

Catch you later folks.

Basho's Balls

I have received loads of great feedback on my extremely witty jokes throughout this blog. In fact, the reason why I'm not posting every day isn't because of a lack of creativity or having better things to do, it's because I have to spend so much time each day replying to my fans' mail (some of it still comes through the post don't you know?). Anyway, enough of my trials and tribulations as a comedy genius, on with the show! I submit to you another brilliant joke, please enjoy:

It was the 257th derby match between Japanese Literary Figures Athletic and Legendary Vertically-Challenged Folk Albion, and everyone was expecting a real ding-dong battle between the two sides. After only half an hour, defender Basho had already clashed with forward Verne Troyer a few times and had a couple of warnings from the referee (Martin Atkinson, let's say, just to set the scene a bit better).

   All of a sudden, Charlie Stratton of the Legendary Vertically-Challenged Folk Albion broke forward on the left flank and fired a fantastic cross into the box for Troyer. Basho had no choice but to rush in and make an overhead clearance.

   Then the ref blew his whistle and flashed a yellow card at Basho. He was clearly livid, and shouted at Martin, "Why the hell did you show me a card? Was it because I pulled his shirt?"
   "No," he replied, "It was for your haibun."

Haha, geddit? 'Cause 'haibun' sounds like 'high boot'! Haha nah, I'm sure you didn't actually need me to explain that really... Phewf, I think you'll agree that I've surpassed myself yet again with that corker. See you again in a few months when I've dealt with more of my mail!

For the Love of Liverpool!

I've been through this post a few times in my mind. There is, after all, a lot to say about Liverpool's performance against Spurs today. It has, however, come to my attention that there's really only one way to express the latest trip to White Hart Lane.

We had six yellow cards (a few of them baffling) versus their one - despite them having nearly double the fouls -, two of our players being sent off and none of theirs, our bewlidering lack of ability to maintain possession, run with the ball (instead of passing back) shoot, pass etc and, 'more importantly' their four goals against nil. Despite the well-earned credit I give to Tottenham today, the only way this reds fan can sum up the action is with this picture:

This is Not Adieu, but Goodbye

Sorry 'sane people' out there, but here's another football blog.

It is time to say goodbye. It is time to wave sorrowfully and feel a certain sadness, a certain sense of loss and a sense of what could have been. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Torres is leaving Liverpool. That being said, I'd swiftly like to move on to thanking him for his contribution over the years and wish him well for his future. Just make sure you don't do too well at Chelsea ;-)

Hello, though, is next. A warm, firm handshake, a pat on the back and a broad smile to Luis Suarez. He's come over from Dutch team Ajax (that has Classical links, dontcha know!) and is apparently ready for hard work, so I wish him all the best. There's another hello to Andy Carroll, though his is slightly different. He gets a strong handshake, a grip on the shoulder and a stern look into his eyes, just like a brother greeting his precious sister's new boyfriend. The kind of welcome that says, "I want us to get along, but if you don't buck your ideas up with the booze and fighting, we're gonna have problems." No doubt he has talent, though, so let us hope that shines through the brightest in his career.

So, let us hope for the best. As we do in life, we do in football.

Bad Times

Liverpool lost again yesterday. To Newcastle... 3-1. Bad times... I'm not gonna elaborate on that, that's all there is to say, it's in the past and we'll play much better next time...

Had an early Christmas with the housemates yesterday though, which was awesome. Plenty of food, drink and good company. Some of the simplest ingredients of a happy life.

One ingredient for an unhappy life is assignments. Trying to get through a 15-minute stage play currently and I'm about 2/3 of the way through... I'm not finding it easy...

Still, when you walk through a storm, you must hold your head up high and not be afraid of the dark. At the end of the storm is a golden sky and the sweet silver song of a lark (so it's well worth getting through the storm, believe me). Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain even if your dreams are being tossed and blown.

Yeah anyways, enough of nicking song lyrics... This assignment ain't gonna do itself!
Byeee

Hey

Erm yeah so I finished my 5 minute script assignment a while ago. I've done redrafts and all the rest, I'm just looking over it for technical problems and then I reckon I'll be as happy as I can be with it. If us creative writers redrafted as much as we wanted to, we'd never let our work go for publishing. So tomorrow (or later today to be accurate i.e. after I've slept) I gotta do my self-assessment and annotated bibliography so all is pretty much well.

I need a shower then too

After I've slept, I'll have my 24 hour take-away test paper from my literature module to contend with. We've been given 24 hours (from around 1100 hours tomorrow til the same time next day) to write 2,000 words, plus or minus 10%. Hmmm. Probably not best to try and get worked up about it before sleep but, judging by the St. Patrick's Day celebrators making racket nearby, it'll be a while before I drop off... This paper is on renaissance poetry. I know what you're thinking; we all know so much about this topic that anyone could do this assignment in no time, but I still worry...

I think I actually had something interesting to write about today. I wrote it down too. Can't find it now though :-(

I'll just leave you with this thought: how amazing would every sport be if an egg and spoon was somehow incorporated. Footballer's goals would only stand if their egg was on their spoon when the ball crossed the line and penaltys would be given if an egg fell off inside the box. Tennis players would serve boiled eggs to each other. Cricketers would try to avoid 'eggs before wicket.' Rugby players would just crush a load of eggs... Contact sports would obviously be the messiest...

Pictured is a worn-out me wearing green in honour of St. Patrick who, I confess, I know nothing about... Oh and thanks today (yeah yesterday if we wanna be pedantic) to Jess - who is hopefully coming to Edge Hill next year - for semi-successfully getting Eminem's 'Guess Who's Back' stuck in me head.

Strike One

No my title has nothing to do with drinking Stella Artois, don't worry! I remembered that I forgot to mention something in me last blog. Elvis had a similar problem, he forgot to remember to forget her, and now he just can't get her out of his mind... No, seriously, twas C's birthday on the night of me last blog, twas her 21st. She's the 'Student Advisor/Advocate' in my halls, and she's lovely so many happy returns to her. Now there's plenty more to talk about!

I'll get the football stuff outta tha way foist, coz not a lotta people enjoy it as much as I do lol! We were playing Lille away and effing lost 1-0... We were better than when we played Wigan, pass completion was better and we had a few good chances and one pretty damn positive piece of pressure. To no avail. No goal for us, and theirs was, as most of them have been, from a bloomin' set piece... Free kick into the box, Reina apparently couldn't quite see what was going on and bang, bottom corner :-( Was with one Liverpool supporting friend of mine and one Arsenal supporting friend of mine, guess who was most vocal... He also joined a pretty long line of people who, upon the mention of me playing badminton, tell me that they used to play, haven't in ages and wanna come down to training. So far, one out of 7 or 8 people have actually shown up!

Had a good mate of mine come round last night. We started talking about coursework while having beers before going out and it turned out that I had been working on the wrong piece of coursework that was in for the next day. Yup, a whole essay I hadn't even started in for the next day (which was populated with a seminar too) and I'd already had a few tins. Solution? Go out, get pretty drunk, get up the next day at 1000hrs and try not to vomit over your laptop as you crack the whip. An' I'll tell you, I did much more than the bare minimum and produced a work I'd have been pretty proud of under sober circumstances. Submitted that, got to the lecture on time (which answered some questions I was unsure of) and felt better!

Got my fedora hat too. Problem is: tis too big... Still, they say they're all about customer satisfaction, so I'll be able to exchange it for a smaller one that will still be as sexy. Looking forward to it possibly more than before now! Not a shred of disappointment at the apparent inconvenience coz life is good! I've been wondering if my particularly good moods of late have more to do with my regular exercise or the fact that I'm back on The Sopranos. It would be ironic if the latter cheered me up to be honest, it's not exactly a comedy! That's not to say it doesn't have humour in (mostly very dark admittedly...). If you get the chance to see it, DO!!! Don't have the completely unfounded stereotype in your head that it's all about mob violence. It's actually more of a family drama. It's so well written that it's untrue! It's obviously very considered. Its creator had studied psychology originally, so the protagonist's psychiatrist is true to life. She acts as a 'Greek chorus' type figure (look that one up yourselves), which shows how cerebral the show actually is in between a few brutal hits.
Like my favourite one where Vito Spatafore gets his... Oh no I probably can't say that on here (the Feds probably have this blog wired for sound...).

A shout out to some old lags; hi to Greg, Arran, Mark, Will, Jim, James, Tom and Tim (I'd go on but I can't be arsed), their respective partners and their family. Ciao!

[Pictured: My suspicious package or, as some crazy people might call it, a 'hat in a box']

Clinical

Wow it's been another long period since my last blog. Blame beer, blame football, blame work, blame friends and maybe even blame it on the boogie, but don't blame me. Yeah quite a bit has happened: a very good badminton sesh, a very bad badminton sesh, I went to Anfield (effing amazing! All the celebrities in glorious tru-life HD, a win and the only goal of the game scored at the Kop end where I was chanting meself hoarse. Great stuff), had a real struggle with a 2000 word essay on the gothic novel, watched No Country for Old Men (another great effort by the Coen brothers in which a psychopathc killer is given a very chilling portrayal) and, most recently, I saw Liverpool beat Unirea Urziceni again - on their turf this time - 3-1. Pretty decent match and the first time we've scored more than twice since 30 games ago when playing Hull. Masch put in a Steven Gerrard-ian effort from outside the box to pull us level, then Babel put in some inspired control-and-poke movements near the goal line before the skipper himself showed his usual flair with a shot so powerful that the keeper just wasn't enough to stop it.
Oh yeah I've gotten a little obsessed by Morrissey's 'I'm Throwing my Arms Around Paris' of late. Harry Hill sang it in one of his TV Burp episodes (which I'm a massive fan of) so I searched for it on google and found out that it's actually sung by one of the most genius singers ever.
Something is compelling to talk about the word 'disparity.' I mean, what a word! Disparity... Say it... It means, like, the difference between something. For example, one might say, "The disparity between Liverpool's skills and anyone else's is massive." This kinda word blog thing aint nothing new. Recently been watching 'HotForWords,' a fun youtube sensation where a hot Russian lass defines words for ya. Sex sells, so why not use it for the benefit of mankind in the educational department? Check it out at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fv2_rSCnBQQ
Todays pics are of a coin that was sneakily given to me instead of £2 at a bar recently, and of Anfield (even though it's frowned upon, I took a picture of it, that's just the way I am). Crafty buggers! Peace out

Back from badminton

Good evening guys.
Not been back from badminton long before starting this; it starts at 2000hrs, finishes at 2200hrs and then there's the showering and snacking til you feel back to your usual self. In 2 hours you get a pretty good workout going. Well, that's if you keep on your toes and run around like a madman after all the shots you reckon you can return. I joke that I'm so unfit, just getting the racket out its case makes me sweat, but that's not even funny... I was a bit annoyed with myself that I didn't work so hard as to give myself the usual headache, but I've calmed down a bit now! Could've performed better, dropped a few 'silly points' in the easier games and made stupid errors against more challenging opponents (I've learned that missing the shuttlecock is never good!). First game was good though; me and my game partner beat one of the best in the club and the lass playing with him (no dirty pun intended). It went all the way up to 30 points making it a tense battle. For those of you not in the know, that's significant because doubles games like this usually go up to 21 (ladies' games are sometimes up to 15), but upon both sides reaching 'match point' (20), you then have to score 2 clear points or first to 30. Every day's a school day!
There's news on the football front too; I now know where I'm going to be sitting during my first game at Anfield (Liverpool's home ground guys...) against Unirea, who are Romania's best according to the mate I'm going with. I've no idea what to say about that because I've not even heard of Unirea before! More immediately there's the trip for our Liverpool lads to the Emirate's stadium to face Arsenal tomorrow. They're currently 5 points ahead of us in the Barclay's Premier League, they are third and we are fourth. If we win, we'll be bolstering our chances of remaining in the top four, obviously, but I doubt it's gonna be easy! I think we'll concede, but 2-1 to us would be great. I might even be hypocritical - with respect to my last post, 'Carnage' - and get a little steaming. COME ON LIVERPOOL!
Gonna round off by saying that I've been looking into 'freeganism' recently. For those not in the know, freeganism is the act/philosophy of living without taking part in the wasteful commercial society we live in. They live by 'dumpster diving' i.e. 'rescuing' food from bins that is safely edible but has been thrown out because the sell-by-date has been reached. Yes, that does mean that supermarkets throw out edible food. They probably put cautious sell-by estimates on 'just in case', but this means that perfectly good food is wasted. Freegans can range from people with environmental concerns, moral concerns, economic concerns, a mix of the above or whatever. For more info, check out 'www.freegan.info'. Anyone out there tried being a freegan?
That's all from me folks!
P.S. I've included a picture of the beast I use up top. It's scored many a point and missed many a shuttle. The trainer sneaking in at the bottom is nothing to do with anything. I wear different ones to train in...