Luis, Luis, why did you do it ?
You bit his arm like a rabid dog
You're unhinged, disturbed, your canon is loose
Now you've even made it into my blog
You're South American with rabbit like teeth
Protruding from your mouth like small tombstones
Next time on the pitch you'll have to wear a muzzle
Instead of pasta, your diet's now bones
Keep your mouth shut Luis, you're self destructing
Ivanovic's rabies shot should ease his pains
You score goals for fun but wasting your talent
You're not an egghead, you have sludge for brains
You're barking mad with issues unresolved
No doubt in my mind you are a bad seed
Accept your ban and stay where you are
You're only allowed out now when you're on a lead
12 months on and your team blew the title
Blame your captain, you know he slipped up
Oh Suarez, please stop your sobbing
You can play handball again in the World Cup!
Monday 22 April 2013
Wednesday 17 April 2013
You Ain't Seen Ruthin Yet
I have stayed in JD Wetherspoons hotels many times over the last 10 years in places as diverse as Salisbury; Monmouth and Chesterfield. They have all had individual characteristics and all had good and not so good features. However, last weekend my wife and I stayed in a recently opened Wetherlodge in Ruthin (pronunciation rhymes with "muffin") in North Wales. I am unable to fault any aspect of this hotel or indeed this delightfully quirky town.
Like most other people from the North of England I have visited North Wales countless times down the years. However, I have tended towards the coastal towns of Llandudno etc. Of course, this coast has beautiful scenery and has pockets of Welsh speakers but also vast amounts of tourists which always seems to dilute my enjoyment of any trip. Ruthin, however, lies in the shadow of the Clwydian hills and is unspoiled.
Upon arrival at the friendly, economically priced Wetherlodge, we decided to leave the unpacking and head straight out to see what the town had to offer. We were based in St Peter's Square which is the historic centre of the town. I was immediately impressed by the "other worldly" nature of the buildings and surrounded on 3 sides by the beautiful Clwydian hills. After spending some time browsing the independent shops and taking a tour of the fascinating Ruthin Gaol (closed as a working Gaol since 1916) it was apparent that the first language of most of the inhabitants was Welsh. This felt like a true step back in time and made the whole visit a greatly enjoyable experience. Tourists in any great numbers appear to be uncommon to this area. However, it is clear the Wetherspoons hotel is likely to change this state of affairs in the near future.
The rest of the weekend was spent exploring the surrounding area. It literally felt like a huge breath of fresh air. All the local people we came into contact with were friendly and welcoming and just as happy to converse with us in English. Many people's families have obviously lived in this town for many generations and I found their everyday use of the native Welsh language very refreshing.
This town has a remarkably low crime rate and, personally, was the perfect way to unwind and relax with a few drinks in a wonderfully scenic location.
Well done Ruthin!
Like most other people from the North of England I have visited North Wales countless times down the years. However, I have tended towards the coastal towns of Llandudno etc. Of course, this coast has beautiful scenery and has pockets of Welsh speakers but also vast amounts of tourists which always seems to dilute my enjoyment of any trip. Ruthin, however, lies in the shadow of the Clwydian hills and is unspoiled.
Upon arrival at the friendly, economically priced Wetherlodge, we decided to leave the unpacking and head straight out to see what the town had to offer. We were based in St Peter's Square which is the historic centre of the town. I was immediately impressed by the "other worldly" nature of the buildings and surrounded on 3 sides by the beautiful Clwydian hills. After spending some time browsing the independent shops and taking a tour of the fascinating Ruthin Gaol (closed as a working Gaol since 1916) it was apparent that the first language of most of the inhabitants was Welsh. This felt like a true step back in time and made the whole visit a greatly enjoyable experience. Tourists in any great numbers appear to be uncommon to this area. However, it is clear the Wetherspoons hotel is likely to change this state of affairs in the near future.
The rest of the weekend was spent exploring the surrounding area. It literally felt like a huge breath of fresh air. All the local people we came into contact with were friendly and welcoming and just as happy to converse with us in English. Many people's families have obviously lived in this town for many generations and I found their everyday use of the native Welsh language very refreshing.
This town has a remarkably low crime rate and, personally, was the perfect way to unwind and relax with a few drinks in a wonderfully scenic location.
Well done Ruthin!
Friday 5 April 2013
Uwe Rosler - Mistaken Identity
I have a face that throughout my life seems to have lent itself to looking like well known people. These have ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous. Of course, as we live our lives and get older our appearance changes, and in line with this, the fame of people we are likened to comes and goes.
At school, amongst the more printable nicknames I had was "Brezhnev", named after the Soviet Union leader at the time Leonid Brezhnev. My eyebrows were (and still are to an extent, although I discovered male grooming products some years ago) of a naturally rather bushy nature and Brezhnev was one of the most powerful men in the world in the 1970s and possessed the most powerful eyebrows known to mankind.
Upon leaving school, my next major lookalike, apparently, was Ian Marshall, the former Oldham Athletic footballer. He owned the finest mullet of the late 80s/early 90s. He was also known as NOT being the most handsome of fellows so this comparison greatly perturbed me. This was followed by Statto from the football show The Fantasy Football League, another chap who failed his male model interview. There then followed the lookalike that stuck around the longest and, at one stage, threatened to get out of hand.
In the mid 1990s a German striker joined my beloved Manchester City FC named Uwe Rosler. He was little known outside Germany at the time but the City fans took to him immediately as he scored regularly in a struggling City side and his goals saved City from relegation in his first season. I was a regular visitor to Maine Road at this time and after about 2 or 3 of his games, a mate turned to me and said "You look a bit like Uwe you know". I scoffed at this remark but inwardly was rather pleased as this was the first person I had been likened to who wasn't pug ugly!
I never thought much more about it but then in the workplace a few others latched on to this and started calling me "Uwe" (pronounced "oo-vay"). This reached it's peak after an away FA Cup replay against Newcastle on a freezing midweek night. I traveled to the match at St James' Park with a few mates and City overturned the odds and won the match 2-1. Rosler was superb that night and was man of the match by some distance. The following day at work when I walked in there was a chant of "Uwe! Uwe! Uwe!". I loved it.
A few weeks later I was returning home from work when a kid in the street where I lived approached me as I got out of my car and said "Eh, you look dead like that Uwe Rosler what plays for City". Just for a laugh I said "What do you mean lad, I am Uwe Rosler". He looked gobsmacked and speechless, then ran off down the street. A couple of days later, as I ventured to the local shop, a group of lads including the aforementioned kid were having a kick-about in the street. As I passed them one said "Eh look! It's Rosler, I told you he lived in our street"! They then launched into the City chant of the day "UUUUWWWEEE, UWE ROS-ER-LER ! UUUUWWWEEE, UWE ROS-ER-LER!" etc etc. This was becoming ridiculous. I lived in a post code not even remotely like an area a Premier league footballer would be living in. My innocent jape with an impressionable child had clearly backfired.
There followed many more excitable sightings of me by the local children, despite me apologising to them and saying I wasn't actually Uwe Rosler. Eventually, one day as I was passing a group of them again in the street, a couple approached me and one said "My dad said you aren't Uwe Rosler". I told them I wasn't several times before but they now finally believed me. After this, they pretty much ignored me except for one final time when one of them said "Eh there's that man who THINKS he's Uwe Rosler". The cheeky little scamp!
In more recent years I have been likened to Frank Skinner, James Anderson (cricketer) and even that I have the "mannerisms" of Simon Gregson (Steve MacDonald in Coronation Street). As I get older I dread to think who will be next.
At school, amongst the more printable nicknames I had was "Brezhnev", named after the Soviet Union leader at the time Leonid Brezhnev. My eyebrows were (and still are to an extent, although I discovered male grooming products some years ago) of a naturally rather bushy nature and Brezhnev was one of the most powerful men in the world in the 1970s and possessed the most powerful eyebrows known to mankind.
Upon leaving school, my next major lookalike, apparently, was Ian Marshall, the former Oldham Athletic footballer. He owned the finest mullet of the late 80s/early 90s. He was also known as NOT being the most handsome of fellows so this comparison greatly perturbed me. This was followed by Statto from the football show The Fantasy Football League, another chap who failed his male model interview. There then followed the lookalike that stuck around the longest and, at one stage, threatened to get out of hand.
In the mid 1990s a German striker joined my beloved Manchester City FC named Uwe Rosler. He was little known outside Germany at the time but the City fans took to him immediately as he scored regularly in a struggling City side and his goals saved City from relegation in his first season. I was a regular visitor to Maine Road at this time and after about 2 or 3 of his games, a mate turned to me and said "You look a bit like Uwe you know". I scoffed at this remark but inwardly was rather pleased as this was the first person I had been likened to who wasn't pug ugly!
I never thought much more about it but then in the workplace a few others latched on to this and started calling me "Uwe" (pronounced "oo-vay"). This reached it's peak after an away FA Cup replay against Newcastle on a freezing midweek night. I traveled to the match at St James' Park with a few mates and City overturned the odds and won the match 2-1. Rosler was superb that night and was man of the match by some distance. The following day at work when I walked in there was a chant of "Uwe! Uwe! Uwe!". I loved it.
A few weeks later I was returning home from work when a kid in the street where I lived approached me as I got out of my car and said "Eh, you look dead like that Uwe Rosler what plays for City". Just for a laugh I said "What do you mean lad, I am Uwe Rosler". He looked gobsmacked and speechless, then ran off down the street. A couple of days later, as I ventured to the local shop, a group of lads including the aforementioned kid were having a kick-about in the street. As I passed them one said "Eh look! It's Rosler, I told you he lived in our street"! They then launched into the City chant of the day "UUUUWWWEEE, UWE ROS-ER-LER ! UUUUWWWEEE, UWE ROS-ER-LER!" etc etc. This was becoming ridiculous. I lived in a post code not even remotely like an area a Premier league footballer would be living in. My innocent jape with an impressionable child had clearly backfired.
There followed many more excitable sightings of me by the local children, despite me apologising to them and saying I wasn't actually Uwe Rosler. Eventually, one day as I was passing a group of them again in the street, a couple approached me and one said "My dad said you aren't Uwe Rosler". I told them I wasn't several times before but they now finally believed me. After this, they pretty much ignored me except for one final time when one of them said "Eh there's that man who THINKS he's Uwe Rosler". The cheeky little scamp!
In more recent years I have been likened to Frank Skinner, James Anderson (cricketer) and even that I have the "mannerisms" of Simon Gregson (Steve MacDonald in Coronation Street). As I get older I dread to think who will be next.
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