not another new dawn at white hart lane

October 28, 2007June 18, 2010Leave a comment

So, another new dawn at Spurs. I was sad to see Jol pushed out, I think the board undermined him early on in the season going behind his back, and that has a lot to do with the situation we’re in. Now Tottenham are spending squillions on this Ramos guy who speaks no English. And I notice his CV is loooong…he’s managed 10 clubs in 14 years! Blimey. But I suppose that makes him perfect for Spurs: we’ve had about that many managers in the past 14 years. He’ll fit right in.

On a funnier footy-related note, check out these youtube clips, the first of a Spurs ball-boy who became an instant hero of the Shelf during a UEFA cup match, and the second (my absolute favourite football-reated clip of all time, this week) of a cheeky six-year-old Chelsea mascot playing a joke on Liverpool’s Steven Gerrard before a match. As the England midfielder walked down the tunnel with his team, the kid, with an absolute deadpan earnest face, held out his hand as if to shake Gerrard’s, but pulled it away and cocked a snook at him instead. Check it out here. Hilarious stuff!

Originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully

non-sports fans, turn away now (and sports fans too)

October 10, 2007June 18, 2010Leave a comment

I’m officially disappointed with sport. I blame Mystic Pete, naturally, for jinxing everything. Tottenham, what the hell is going on?? what the hell? And letting Arsenal go top? I apologize on behalf of Mystic Pete (who is unavailable to comment, of course).

And the Rugby…yes, they did remarkably well, but this week isn’t England’s. Mystic Pete to his credit said they’d probably lose, but was still disappointed. I bet there were a lot of four-year olds called Jonny who weren’t too happy, either.

Quite a time if your name’s McLaren, too. I’m sure the England footy manager was crucified, I’m in no doubt of that. Now they’re very unlikely to go to euro 2008, and play in Bern’s Wankdorf stadium (they’ll just be Pissdorf at home). And Scotland, conquerors of France, they go and lose to Georgia, or Alabama or whoever it was. Now they have to beat Italy, world champions. As for my two Irelands, well my beloved Republic were just awful, but the North, my granddad’s land, were amazing, and mathematically (i only in fantasy world) they can still qualify…

Lewis, you did bloody well for your first year in Formula 1, and at least your pouting team-mate didn’t pip it from you. but I knew that would happen, I’ve used those same tactics in the final race of Super Mario Kart against my brother, leave a green shell here, a banana skin there, win all the points at the end.

And Celtic, losing to 3-0 to Rangers, despite having beaten mighty Milan (whose goalkeeper Dida coincidentally studied his at DIDA, the Dirty Institute of Dramatic Art).

Grrr. One consolation to all of this – I live in America, which is blissfully unaware of any of these events. “Rugby World Cup? rugby has a world cup? Formula 1, that’s a type of toothpaste isn’t it? Steve McLaren? Oh yeah, that guy should not be in charge of the england soccer team…”

Originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully

la mort d’un mime (i didn’t know he was still alive)

September 26, 2007June 18, 2010Leave a comment

When I heard that Marcel Marceau had died, my first thoughts were what his last words might have been ( “” ); my second thoughts were of his coffin, being an invisible box with him stuck inside. This made me giggle like a little girl, of course; I felt a bit bad about that, but y’know, I think Marcel would have wanted it that way.

I was surprised to learn that his real last name was Mangel. This made me think of Neighbours, at which point I really stopped laughing.

Originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully

oh boy

September 26, 2007June 18, 2010Leave a comment

TV season has begun again. Well, i really mean New Show Season. It’s where I choose, against my better judgement, to watch a new show, having seen the previews all summer, and get utterly turned off of its absolute cheesiness and lament the failed opportunity of what might have been a good idea were it not in the hands of network tv producers. Last year it was Heroes, this year it is Journeyman.

The pilot aired last night, a show about an accidental-time-travelling-journalist, who (and I doubt the show’s producers meant this) is probably the least charismatic character ever invented. To be honest, it’s a good idea with some seriously bad writers, extremely bad execution, dire casting, and already no mysteries, due to its unbelievably predictable storyline. Perhaps they wanted it to be an updated Quantum Leap, but Journeyman has less heart than a group of tax-collectors and absolutely no humour whatsoever. It is set in San Francisco (i counted every major SF landmark except the pier 39 sealions cropping up somewhere in that first episode) though it is clear that the producers are not from san francisco, and know nothing about the place (my wife spotted historical discrepancies instantly), and don’t mind throwing in an insult, either. The first moment the protagonist steps goodnight-sweatheart back through time, we can tell it’s the past because the 49ers are celebrating some big victory or other; I’m sure all ‘9ers fans were gritting their teeth and thinking, yes thanks for reminding us we haven’t won anything for years). Worst of all, the soundtrack was absolutely dreadful. Bad reality show cheese.

I might watch it next week, to see if it improves. Or perhaps I too will be mysteriously sent back in time, maybe to when TV was good.

Originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully

pavarotti

September 6, 2007June 18, 2010Leave a comment

Dio mio, this news is very sad, Luciano Pavarotti has died at 71. He always had such a wicked smile. And how can you hear him sing Nessun Dorma without thinking of Gazza’s tears, Roger Milla’s dance, Rudi Voeller’s hair filled with spit, and Waddle’s mission to send the first football to Mars? And I loved his work with the Three Tenors (or 30 Quid as they preferred to be known). Arrivederci, il nostro amico Pavarotti.

Originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully

‘roads’? we don’t need ‘roads’

September 1, 2007June 18, 2010Leave a comment

So you thought Davis was just a bunch of trees, bikes, professors and cows did you? (Admittedly famous cows, with windows in their stomach) And liberal-leaning tofu-munching ex-hippies? Yes, yes, I’ll give you that, it is all of those things. But it’s also home to the flying car. Oh yes, Back to the Future II here we come, and it’s all starting in flat old Davis. I saw this news article on the BBC website and thought, great scott, this is really heavy. I like the idea of flying cars, but I hate the idea of flying drivers. No, I’m not sure this will work.

Hoverboards, on the other hand…

Originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully

a pinch of salt

August 27, 2007June 18, 2010Leave a comment

I’ve been reading Mark Kurlansky’s book “Salt”. I’m about halfway through, so I don’t know who the killer is yet; don’t spoil it for me. It’s basically a world history, through the medium of salt, or rather it’s a salt-coated world history. Or rather, it’s a history of the world, spattered with tenuous links to the importance of salt. It’s interesting, sure, but it could do with some pepper.

The rise of of the Celts? Salt. The cornerstone of Chinese civilization? Salt. Great Pyramids of Egypt? Salt. The paid armies of Imperial Rome? Salt. Etymology of half the words in English, and every other language for that matter? Salt. JFK? Salt. The Beatles? Salt. Bush’s election victory in 2000? Salt. The dodgy penalty decision in the Liverpool-Chelsea match last week? Salt. It’s incredible what you learn.

When I was about seven I stayed with my aunt and cousins in Norwich for a few weeks. One morning, before breakfast, my cousin Daniel thought it would be hilarious if he poured a load of salt into my orange squash. It tasted funny, and even though he confessed I still drank it all up, not knowing the consequences. Within ten minutes I was throwing up all over the breakfast table (and all over my cousin Debbie’s leather jacket), feeling rotten, and I learnt then and there that whatever else you may do with salt, you don’t put it in your morning drink. To be fair to my cousin, it probably was hilarious to watch. Well at least I have an interesting story about salt. Perhaps Kurlansky can put it in the second edition.

Originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully

hanging on the telephone

August 25, 2007June 18, 2010Leave a comment

I rejoined the communications age tonight. After living a Hereward-like existence for nearly two years, I finally got a mobile – oh, sorry, a ‘cellphone’. It’s not too dissimilar to the one I had in the UK (just, you know, not blue). I never really use the phone anyway, if I can avoid it. But here, unlike in the UK and Europe, you actually get charged for receiving calls, and for receiving texts. It’s a disgrace I tell thee. So don’t call me, I won’t answer.

I tell you what though, twice today – firstly calling Fed-Ex, secondly calling AT&T – I had to use those voice-activated phone systems. I hate using those. Especially in public. For one thing, the bloody things can’t understand my accent. I say, clear as James Bond, “more options,” and they reply, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, can you please repeat?” This went on. It’s all very time-consuming, and brings me to mind that Kevin Bloody Wilson song, the one about the guy who gets so angry with the phone company he tells them to stick the phone up, well, their bum. I did mention the voice system to the lady when i finally got through, and she tried giving it the “well yes, the system does have problems when we come up against lovely accents such as your own,” to which i replied, “ho ho ho, your mind tricks won’t work on me!” (well i didn’t, but i thought it, and i thought it in the jabba voice as well). Then later on, I call AT&T to top up my phone for the first time, not knowing it was another irritating voice-system. I muttered something to my wife about the message being in Spanish – and it recognised the word ‘Spanish’ and launched into the whole schpiel in espanol. I hate talking to robots. If I wanted to do that I’d pretend to have conversations with R2-D2. Well I do that anyway (he hates it when I call him Dusty Bin).

Still, the phone was a bloody good deal – just twenty bucks, phone and sim card, and that includes ten dollars credit. Can’t go wrong, guv.

By the way, did I remember to use the ‘hanging on the telephone’ gag about Saddam being executed and those guys capturing it on their mobiles? If not, well, I’m using it now.

Originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully

false prophets

August 17, 2007June 18, 2010Leave a comment

The fans were getting impatient. “Bench it Like Beckham,” read one sign, while others berated him for having the audacity to be injured. The American sportsfan attention span was quickly turning against him, but the other day Beckham finally started a game, as captain no less, and scored his first Galaxy goal, a copyrighted trademark textbook (and cliché-filled? ) free kick. It was in the Superliga, played between MLS and Mexican teams, kind of the North American equivalent to the Anglo-Italian Cup (but without the mighty Swindon).

Mystic Pete should have seen it coming, but was shaking his head in wonder at his latest curse-stricken prognostics. He said, for example, that Genk would become Champions of Belgium. The next day, Genk lost 5-0. Early doors, though. Man United will win the league again, he said; then Rooney injures his foot, Cristiano Ronaldo gets sent off, they drop points against two fairly lame teams. Spurs, well, two defeats after being predicted easy fourth place plus the Cup. Long season though! Cardiff, they’ll go up into the Premiership, he says; next day reads the news they’re being sued for 30 million quid, and we all know what happens to smaller clubs in the financial bogs (eh, Leeds). Cheers Mystic Pete. Marseille will finally break Lyon’s deadlock in France! Two nil-nil draws later, still looking for a goal, OM faithful less certain. It’s a long season to come though! Bayern Munich, may get the UEFA Cup but will do nothing in the league, they don’t have the players. Werder Bremen will win it, they still have Klose! Mystic Pete said. Next day, he reads Kicker (German footy mag) and learns that Klose, yes, now plays for Bayern, as do goal-machines Franck Ribéry and Luca Toni. Ja, vielleicht wird Bayern ‘was machen. Still, Southgate’s job looks unsure, but if the papers are believed (do they ever lie?) Jol might beat him to it. Still, long old season ahead of us. Never mind Mystic Pete. More like Myopic Pete.

originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully

cash cab

August 17, 2007June 18, 2010Leave a comment

My feelings about American telly are well-documented. Two many (loud) advert breaks, schedules being the same every single day, endless reality shows modeled on the worst of British (with cheesy soundtracks and editing) (most American shows these days are modeled on something British), crap asinine game shows requiring little or no knowledge of anything (Jeopardy being the huge exception), news shows fronted by giggling imbeciles with huge hair, faux concerned looks, enormous teeth and absolutely no sense of when to shut up and stop prattling pointless nonsense. Yes, I try not to watch much TV.

I tell you one fairly enjoyable quiz show my wife and I have discovered recently, though: Cash Cab. Set inside a taxicab on the streets of New York, unsuspecting passengers climb into the cab, state their destination to the driver, and suddenly colourful lights appear on the ceiling and they are told they are on a game show. The driver, New Yorker Ben Bailey (who looks like a younger De Niro mixed with Elliot Stapler from Law & Order), asks them a series of questions as he takes them through the congested city streets, and each time they answer a question correct they get cash. If they get stuck, they have two ‘shout-outs’ they can use, one mobile (like phone-a-friend), and one street shout-out, whereby they pull over, and ask someone from the sidewalk to help with their question. If they get three questions wrong, that’s three strikes and the driver kicks you out of the cab, no matter where you are, with no money (a free cab ride though). If you get to the end, you can either keep the cash, or go double-or-nothing with a bonus question. It’s an interesting concept for a game show, and good fun. Now I thought to myself, it’s a very New York show, set inside the iconic yellow-cab; given the trivia-soaked black-cabbies in London you could have it there too. Maybe you already do?

Well I looked it up, and yes it seems you do, and yes, like all shows these days, you actually had it there first, on ITV, since 2005 (the year I left). Jeez, it makes me feel like I’ve been away for ever.

Originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully