Friday, August 10, 2007

It’s Coming Home, It’s Coming Home ...

A matter of hours now. Only one sleep. What have we been doing with ourselves all this time? It’s back. Premier League football. The bars will be alive with the sound of Sky boxes, “go on my son”, and “another round of John Smith’s, mate”. Never mind all this fannying around on beaches, tomorrow is when the summer starts. This is what we save up for; this is what we want; this is football on holiday. And if you support Wigan, this is where it all goes very wrong.

At least the footy will boot the fillers off the bar TVs. Can someone explain to me the fascination for “Only Fools And Horses”? I was passing a bar off the Greasy Mile yesterday morning. It could have been one of many others and not just in Alcúdia. There were Del Boy and Rodders. While the punters were tucking into their fry-ups, they were also being fed a diet of the Trotters. Why?

Ok, ok, anything to get the punters in. But why always Fools And Horses? I would just love it if a bar were to put on an old episode of “The League Of Gentlemen”. It would clear the bar quicker than you could say “NOT LOCAL”. Which is presumably why it isn’t shown, and also why I don’t run a bar.

Tonight is the occasion of one of the greatest of the summer events - the Can Picafort all-nighter. Knocks spots off of all the other party do’s. Weather’s just about holding up for it. It is, I’m afraid, looking very much like last August.

Yesterday - Kirsty MacColl. Today - she was married to whom? And also. Not so much a quiz, more a question. Today’s title is easy, but was it the greatest footy song of all time?

And another myspace and another female singer - Nancy Elizabeth - this time from Wigan, so there’s one thing to be thankful for if you’re from Wigan -


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