Its official, Britain is now in recession. We weren't last week, but we are now, because the Daily Mail and the Torygraph said so on Thursday. It would be easy to simply blame this crisis on a bunch of greedy, grasping bankers, futures traders and hedge-fund managers and their insane lust for profit. So let's do just that. Though my own personal credit crunch started in about 1991, and it stubbornly refuses to show any sign of improvement.
I'm not going to dwell on this gloomy economic news, though, mainly because I don't really understand any of it. You can stick your liquidity, stagflation and short-selling up your arse, though I do like the idea of a 'dead-cat bounce'. Football's more my bag, and as the nation's shares plummet, England's footballing stock continues to rise. To what can we ascribe this sudden rennaisance? I'm at a loss to explain it. The absence of either Neville brother has to help. Even Emile Heskey suddenly looks a world-beater, despite his astonishing career return of five goals in 50 (yes, 50) appearances. Maybe it really is just the tactical mastery of Capello, though to be fair we've only given pastings to ski resorts, tax havens and breakaway regions of the former Soviet Union so far.
Capello: has a 'Hasselhoff-Grandma' face.
So it looks like we've more or less booked our ticket to South Africa 2010. Who's clever idea was it to hold the World Cup there? Not only is it a spectacularly violent and dangerous place to visit, but the locals genuinely don't care - they might as well have held the tournament in Alabama, or Bangalore. And I can't see the home nation making much of an impression anyway. They didn't make it to the last World Cup, failing to progress from a qualifying group that included Burkina Faso, Uganda and the Cape Verde Islands – an excellent place to see endemic larks and seabirds, but hardly a footballing powerhouse. Why does FIFA consistently fail to learn from the mistakes of the past? At the last European Championships, for example, the Swiss put up something of a fight (for once) but ultimately stumbled at the first group stage, while co-hosts Austria – the land of schnitzel and Fritzl – were unanimously acclaimed as the feeblest host nation in the history of sport. Without host participation in the latter stages, a tournament is always going to struggle to maintain momentum; I do not say this as a blinkered, still-furious, jealous and angry England supporter, though of course I am one. I will never, ever forgive the Wally with the Brolly.
The obvious solution is to hold the World Cup in one place - say, for argument's sake, the home of football, England. Then the global footballing public would get a permanent place of pilgrimage to the nation that gave this great game to the world, and we wouldn't have to play pointless qualifiers against the likes of Andorra, San Marino and Kazakhstan.
I bet we'd still get knocked out in the quarters on penalties.
This week's celebrity spots
Back with a bang this week. No more of that René Zagger or Nigel Farrell bollocks. First, scruffy and unfathomably popular drug addict Pete Doherty talking loudly in Dean Street outside the 'Make Mine' sandwich shop last week, wearing his trademark porkpie hat. Doherty was with a bunch of similarly clad trendy types, who I assumed at the time were simply fawning flunkeys but may well have been the rest of Babyshambles. Let's face it, they're hardly household names so you can surely forgive me this one.
Doherty instantly regretted plumping for the Moroccan chicken sandwich.
The second of the week's trio came in the form of author and 'comedian' Danny Wallace, on the phone outside Mildred's Cafe. Probably planning yet another dreary bet-based docu-book. And finally, outside the Toucan pub last Friday, Griff Rhys-Jones. We recognised him, he scowled, we moved away. A proper grumpy star.
On to reader's letters, and its a welcome return to form for Julie from Leighton Buzzard, who reports former Olympic hurdler Kris Akabusi alighting at Leighton Buzzard railway station. However, sighting of the week goes to GT from Docklands, who reported bumping into Mark Burdis on Islington's Upper Street. Who he? Well, these days he's perhaps best known as the balding, uncomprehending face of AA Car Insurance, for whom he stars in their staggeringly annoying 'Bev? Kev?' commercials (surely a contender for the worst TV ad campaign of all time, though while fucking Howard from the Halifax is still drawing breath it will never claim the crown). However, for readers over the age of, say, 35, Burdis is more fondly remembered as Stewpot from TV's Grange Hill.
Recommendations
Tottenham are definitely going down. As I type, news is filtering through that hapless Juande Ramos has been sacked, and former West Ham manager Harry Redknapp has become the next to take his chance with Spurs's revolving door of management. Hilarious. He's also known as 'Agent' Redknapp, of course, after he left Portsmouth for deadly rivals Southampton, took them down to the Championship, then immediately rejoined the jubilant Pompey. What price lightning striking twice? Well, I'll tell you. 7/2 (Coral). Place your bets - this one's as safe as the Bank of England.
You can't help but notice that Peter Mandelson is back in government. He's been there for five minutes and already he's mired in sleaze, for allegedly accepting backhanders from some aluminium magnate on a yacht. The 7/1 that Paddy Power are offering for Mandelson to be forced to resign for a third time before the year's out looks good value – would anyone be even slightly surprised?
Have a bash on Theoretical Girl if you find yourself in the mood for folksy electronica, as I often do.
I'm not going to dwell on this gloomy economic news, though, mainly because I don't really understand any of it. You can stick your liquidity, stagflation and short-selling up your arse, though I do like the idea of a 'dead-cat bounce'. Football's more my bag, and as the nation's shares plummet, England's footballing stock continues to rise. To what can we ascribe this sudden rennaisance? I'm at a loss to explain it. The absence of either Neville brother has to help. Even Emile Heskey suddenly looks a world-beater, despite his astonishing career return of five goals in 50 (yes, 50) appearances. Maybe it really is just the tactical mastery of Capello, though to be fair we've only given pastings to ski resorts, tax havens and breakaway regions of the former Soviet Union so far.
Capello: has a 'Hasselhoff-Grandma' face.
So it looks like we've more or less booked our ticket to South Africa 2010. Who's clever idea was it to hold the World Cup there? Not only is it a spectacularly violent and dangerous place to visit, but the locals genuinely don't care - they might as well have held the tournament in Alabama, or Bangalore. And I can't see the home nation making much of an impression anyway. They didn't make it to the last World Cup, failing to progress from a qualifying group that included Burkina Faso, Uganda and the Cape Verde Islands – an excellent place to see endemic larks and seabirds, but hardly a footballing powerhouse. Why does FIFA consistently fail to learn from the mistakes of the past? At the last European Championships, for example, the Swiss put up something of a fight (for once) but ultimately stumbled at the first group stage, while co-hosts Austria – the land of schnitzel and Fritzl – were unanimously acclaimed as the feeblest host nation in the history of sport. Without host participation in the latter stages, a tournament is always going to struggle to maintain momentum; I do not say this as a blinkered, still-furious, jealous and angry England supporter, though of course I am one. I will never, ever forgive the Wally with the Brolly.
The obvious solution is to hold the World Cup in one place - say, for argument's sake, the home of football, England. Then the global footballing public would get a permanent place of pilgrimage to the nation that gave this great game to the world, and we wouldn't have to play pointless qualifiers against the likes of Andorra, San Marino and Kazakhstan.
I bet we'd still get knocked out in the quarters on penalties.
This week's celebrity spots
Back with a bang this week. No more of that René Zagger or Nigel Farrell bollocks. First, scruffy and unfathomably popular drug addict Pete Doherty talking loudly in Dean Street outside the 'Make Mine' sandwich shop last week, wearing his trademark porkpie hat. Doherty was with a bunch of similarly clad trendy types, who I assumed at the time were simply fawning flunkeys but may well have been the rest of Babyshambles. Let's face it, they're hardly household names so you can surely forgive me this one.
Doherty instantly regretted plumping for the Moroccan chicken sandwich.
The second of the week's trio came in the form of author and 'comedian' Danny Wallace, on the phone outside Mildred's Cafe. Probably planning yet another dreary bet-based docu-book. And finally, outside the Toucan pub last Friday, Griff Rhys-Jones. We recognised him, he scowled, we moved away. A proper grumpy star.
On to reader's letters, and its a welcome return to form for Julie from Leighton Buzzard, who reports former Olympic hurdler Kris Akabusi alighting at Leighton Buzzard railway station. However, sighting of the week goes to GT from Docklands, who reported bumping into Mark Burdis on Islington's Upper Street. Who he? Well, these days he's perhaps best known as the balding, uncomprehending face of AA Car Insurance, for whom he stars in their staggeringly annoying 'Bev? Kev?' commercials (surely a contender for the worst TV ad campaign of all time, though while fucking Howard from the Halifax is still drawing breath it will never claim the crown). However, for readers over the age of, say, 35, Burdis is more fondly remembered as Stewpot from TV's Grange Hill.
Recommendations
Tottenham are definitely going down. As I type, news is filtering through that hapless Juande Ramos has been sacked, and former West Ham manager Harry Redknapp has become the next to take his chance with Spurs's revolving door of management. Hilarious. He's also known as 'Agent' Redknapp, of course, after he left Portsmouth for deadly rivals Southampton, took them down to the Championship, then immediately rejoined the jubilant Pompey. What price lightning striking twice? Well, I'll tell you. 7/2 (Coral). Place your bets - this one's as safe as the Bank of England.
You can't help but notice that Peter Mandelson is back in government. He's been there for five minutes and already he's mired in sleaze, for allegedly accepting backhanders from some aluminium magnate on a yacht. The 7/1 that Paddy Power are offering for Mandelson to be forced to resign for a third time before the year's out looks good value – would anyone be even slightly surprised?
Have a bash on Theoretical Girl if you find yourself in the mood for folksy electronica, as I often do.
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