I think I might be a hypocrite, when I saw John Lydon’s advert for butter I felt nothing but betrayal. Yet when I saw this advert featuring the wonderful John Shuttleworth I felt immensely proud. I don’t know why I’ve had conflicting emotions over these two adverts.

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Every time I think I’ve seen it all in football and nothing can surprise me, something will come along and leave me open mouthed, shaking my head in disbelief. I had kind of resigned myself to the fact that Gareth Barry would probably be leaving us this summer and the lure of Champions League football with Liverpool or Arsenal would be too much. ( Read more... )

Friday after work we went to Edgbaston for the Twenty20 cricket match between Warwickshire and Worcestershire. There can be nothing better than watching cricket in the late afternoon-early evening sunshine. The weather produced a glorious back-drop to match and would surely have melted the heart of even the most die-hard of non-cricket loving folk ( Read more... )

I do love Victoria Coren’s column and this week she took a mischievous look at the news that the rather unlovely Richard Barnbrook is trying to take his ‘partner’ the even more unlovely Nick Griffin to a royal garden party. The Vitriol on the comments page gives another reason to despise the BNP, they all seem to lack a sense of humour.


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The Bull Ring (or to give its proper name Bullring. Is that even a word?) shopping centre has re-opened after two and a half days closed because of a smell in the ventilation system. From someone who’s messed about with Air Handling Units, there’s not much to them, I can’t believe it’s taken that long to fix the problem. I can see the ( Read more... )

The second semi-final in this year’s Eurovision. Good news, the rather annoying male presenter won’t be there for the final.

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Eurovision is back and so are the eighties, big hair and white suits and that’s just the men.

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A telephone conversation with a (female) member of our helpdesk.

Me: Hello its Mark

L: ooooh hello Mark

………..

L: It’s not me you want, is it?

Me: No, can I speak to Phil

L: I’m gutted

Me: erm…Ok

Now I quite understand that I was supposed to flirt there in the conversation, but my mind goes completely blank. Give me ten minutes or so ( Read more... )

As some of you might know this weekend is the twentieth anniversary of Hillsborough. Others have written far more eloquently about it than me, I wasn’t there; in fact Villa didn’t have a game that day (I’m guessing the other semi-final was being played at Villa Park). But in the weeks afterwards it made you think back over your experiences at ( Read more... )

I happened to be listening to the radio station with one in its name this morning. I know full well that it’s not trying to play music for my age group and I also know that every generation as the right to choose its own music. It’s bad enough having to listen to the endless production line of manufactured groups and the incessant rhythms of dance ( Read more... )