Saturday, June 12, 2010
Notts v Derbyshire
I've had the tickets for this for months, so had no idea they would clash with the opening day of he World Cup, but besides, it's only France v Uruguay, you can guarantee a 0-0 and a Uruguay red card.
Derbyshire bat first, and apart from a sticky opening over, find the boundary with a worrying regularity. A run rate of nearly 11 points to a potential score over 220 if they kick on in the last few overs, but instead of the promised run flow, they lose 4 wickets for 12 runs and the final score is a still decent, but 20 - 30 runs short, 192.
Notts start like a train, and carry on like a train and never stop, easily winning the game with 3 overs to spare, the 20 - 30 missing Derbyshire runs. Alex Hales is the new Kevin Pietersen while Samit Patel can be as fat as he wants if he carries on picking off the attack like flies.
So, another fantastic evening watching cricket in the sun, watching Notts win, but just as important;y, watching the team from Derby getting hammered. Good times.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Thatcher Jnr
From the BBC: Baroness Thatcher visits Cameron in 10 Downing Street
There you are, a union busting, public services destroying, lying right wing bastard, who won't die peacefully until all their rich colleagues are richer at the expense of everyone else.
And Margaret Thatcher.
There you are, a union busting, public services destroying, lying right wing bastard, who won't die peacefully until all their rich colleagues are richer at the expense of everyone else.
And Margaret Thatcher.
How much ?!!!!
Jamie Oliver is thinking of spending / blowing 1.5 MILLION ponds on a new Italian restaurant in Nottingham.
Firstly, the patronising tosser wants it to be, and I quote, a “destination restaurant”. What, as opposed to those other restaurants in town that have people seemingly turning up at random, or maybe he believes that no f***er currently goes to Nottingham and we need an up market Bella Pasta to reclaim the streets from being completely empty of an evening ?
Robin Hood film out in the cinemas and this over hyped numptie thinks that people will want to come to Nottingham for a Spaghetti Bolognese.
Secondly, 85 jobs, all locally sourced. God bless you Mr Scrooge, coming here to our urban wasteland with your generosity. Lets be fair, we’ve got restaurants, all full of chefs & waiting staff & the blokes who do f**k all but show you where to sit, ‘there, on the chair’, ‘well f**k me, had you not told me where to sit, I’d have probably parked my a**e in that woman’s food !!’. We’ve got literally hundreds of restaurant staff in Nottingham already, and I’m willing to bet there’s not many people who work in them commute from f***ing Timbuktu every day.
Thirdly, locally produced food. Wheat ? Tomatoes ? Fish ? I don’t think so.
What ? A building that’s managed to survive for nigh on TWO HUNDRED YEARS without the help of someone who can’t talk properly. Nonsense.
Sums it up. Just like McDonalds, then.
Firstly, the patronising tosser wants it to be, and I quote, a “destination restaurant”. What, as opposed to those other restaurants in town that have people seemingly turning up at random, or maybe he believes that no f***er currently goes to Nottingham and we need an up market Bella Pasta to reclaim the streets from being completely empty of an evening ?
“So it's an exciting time for this part of the city This is going to become a destination in its own right, even a tourist attraction.".
Robin Hood film out in the cinemas and this over hyped numptie thinks that people will want to come to Nottingham for a Spaghetti Bolognese.
Secondly, 85 jobs, all locally sourced. God bless you Mr Scrooge, coming here to our urban wasteland with your generosity. Lets be fair, we’ve got restaurants, all full of chefs & waiting staff & the blokes who do f**k all but show you where to sit, ‘there, on the chair’, ‘well f**k me, had you not told me where to sit, I’d have probably parked my a**e in that woman’s food !!’. We’ve got literally hundreds of restaurant staff in Nottingham already, and I’m willing to bet there’s not many people who work in them commute from f***ing Timbuktu every day.
Thirdly, locally produced food. Wheat ? Tomatoes ? Fish ? I don’t think so.
“I can't think of a better way of ensuring the longevity of one of Nottingham's finest buildings than with a high-quality tenant who will put it to a sympathetic use.”
What ? A building that’s managed to survive for nigh on TWO HUNDRED YEARS without the help of someone who can’t talk properly. Nonsense.
“Jamie's Italian serves food throughout the day and is a first-come-first-served operation with no booking.”
Sums it up. Just like McDonalds, then.
We're all fucked with these two in charge
One of the main reasons the Forest play-off defeat didn’t effect me THAT much was by the time we got home we had a Tory government. Not a “coalition”, not “shared power”, but a full blown privately educated led F***ING TORY GOVERNMENT.
Gordon Brown plays by the rules, hell no, abides by the constitution of the country and tries to form a government, but soon gives up as Nick Clegg sidles up to David Cameron in the same way David Steel’s Spitting Image puppet used to ram its tongue up David Owen’s a**e. It’s the equivalent of going to Relate with your wife, only to find she’s already gone abroad with her fancy-man.
But how did Nick Clegg believe he has the right, the MANDATE to even ask to form a government with anyone.
Because of the stupid b******s who voted Liberal Democrat at the last election because they {pathetic squeaky voice} wanted change {\pathetic squeaky voice}. Because the country was being f***ed over by someone who’s seemingly biggest faults were his funny smile and insufficient eye quantity. And even then it took the Sun newspaper to point those things out for them.
Some people changed their vote on the back of Mr Brown getting caught calling some bigoted woman a “bigoted woman”. Others because he then went to apologise. Sorry, but anyone who changes their vote based on these factors and not the record of their local MP over the previous FIVE F***ING YEARS shouldn’t be allowed the vote in the first place.
Some people hadn’t even decided by the big day itself. These people shouldn’t even be allowed out the house, let alone allowed in polling stations, they’d be too busy stood in the middle of busy roads indecisively bobbing one way then the other. It must have been these t***s who turned up at polling booths late and couldn’t vote.
So now Gordon Brown’s gone.
To me this is like the Captain of the Titanic after hitting the iceberg of American capitalist greed, successfully managing to keep the ship not only afloat, but also heading towards port, only for the passengers to vote him out and replace him with two blokes from First Class who’ve never sailed before. They even had their first press conference at the Stern for f***s sake.
And it’s all down to the pathetic w*****s who sold out their class, their history, their country, those who couldn’t vote Tory but didn’t vote as their fathers, and their fathers had before, and voted Liberal Democrat.
Well, they didn’t. They voted TORY. They added to Nick Clegg’s percentage, to his mandate, a closet, now quite open TORY.
If you’re one of these people, don’t worry, your TORY membership cards and subscriptions to the Daily Mail will be in the post.
Tossers.
Gordon Brown plays by the rules, hell no, abides by the constitution of the country and tries to form a government, but soon gives up as Nick Clegg sidles up to David Cameron in the same way David Steel’s Spitting Image puppet used to ram its tongue up David Owen’s a**e. It’s the equivalent of going to Relate with your wife, only to find she’s already gone abroad with her fancy-man.
But how did Nick Clegg believe he has the right, the MANDATE to even ask to form a government with anyone.
Because of the stupid b******s who voted Liberal Democrat at the last election because they {pathetic squeaky voice} wanted change {\pathetic squeaky voice}. Because the country was being f***ed over by someone who’s seemingly biggest faults were his funny smile and insufficient eye quantity. And even then it took the Sun newspaper to point those things out for them.
Some people changed their vote on the back of Mr Brown getting caught calling some bigoted woman a “bigoted woman”. Others because he then went to apologise. Sorry, but anyone who changes their vote based on these factors and not the record of their local MP over the previous FIVE F***ING YEARS shouldn’t be allowed the vote in the first place.
Some people hadn’t even decided by the big day itself. These people shouldn’t even be allowed out the house, let alone allowed in polling stations, they’d be too busy stood in the middle of busy roads indecisively bobbing one way then the other. It must have been these t***s who turned up at polling booths late and couldn’t vote.
So now Gordon Brown’s gone.
To me this is like the Captain of the Titanic after hitting the iceberg of American capitalist greed, successfully managing to keep the ship not only afloat, but also heading towards port, only for the passengers to vote him out and replace him with two blokes from First Class who’ve never sailed before. They even had their first press conference at the Stern for f***s sake.
And it’s all down to the pathetic w*****s who sold out their class, their history, their country, those who couldn’t vote Tory but didn’t vote as their fathers, and their fathers had before, and voted Liberal Democrat.
Well, they didn’t. They voted TORY. They added to Nick Clegg’s percentage, to his mandate, a closet, now quite open TORY.
If you’re one of these people, don’t worry, your TORY membership cards and subscriptions to the Daily Mail will be in the post.
Tossers.
Byron Clough
This is genius, and if I had the necesary £525 this would be adorning my living room wall right now.
Is it too much to ask of my 13 & 9 year olds for Father's Day ?
Available here
Is it too much to ask of my 13 & 9 year olds for Father's Day ?
Available here
Byron Clough by Rikki Marr
With more than a dash of humour and a swathe of class, this painting marries Brian Clough’s brooding, self-confident smirk with Lord Byron’s stylish, suave stance. After all, if ever there was a man that bought poetry to football, it was Brian Clough and we’re sure Byron would’ve appreciated that.
Gold framed digital print on canvas with hand painted varnish finish. Limited run of 100. Signed by the artist. 1189mm x 841mm (approx)