I Told You So

Silverstone hosted the British F1 GP this weekend and just as I predicted way back in March, things are really hotting up.

Lewis Hamilton is well pissed off with the McLaren team and has been for talks with rival Red Bull team boss Christian Horner. This time round he was battling for a podium finish until the team had to tell him to ease off as he was running out of fuel, allowing Vettel and Webber to pass and having to fight right to the last corner to hold of Felipe massa’s Ferrari to salvage fourth place.

Jenson Button could soon be sharing his team-mates frustration, pitting on lap 39 from a potential top three finishing position, the mechanics fluffed the pit stop and sent him on his way minus a wheel nut.

Mark Webber scented his chance to hunt down his all conquering team leader, ignoring calls from his team until the big white chief got hold of the radio and sternly told him to maintain position.
Should imagine there’ll be some fireworks between Webber and Vettel in the next few races.

Fernando Alonso, finally got the break he’s been desrving when Red Bull had a problem with Vettel’s pit stop, taking the lead and never looking back.

But best of all, on Friday Red Bull’s blown diffuser exhaust system was banned, on Saturday it was unbanned and on Sunday it seemed that people who hadn’t got it could have it, whilst those that had, couldn’t.

The best thing about F!, the clarity and consistencey of the rules.

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Wimbledon: Qualifiers and disqualifiers.

Having a lazy afternoon watching tennis today as there is still nothing in the news worth getting excited about. I really can’t be arsed trying to put a satirical spin on the stoey of the Royal ginge and the lingerie model.

At the moment down in SW19, Jo Wilfred Tsonga is giving Federer a fright which is good not so much because with Federer out Andy Murry’s chances will be improved but because Tsonga is actually an entertaining player to watch, a rare thing these days.

Elsewhere the uber-bore Novak Djokovic is playing a guy who fought his way through the qualifying rounds. Shades of Boris Becker who was supposed to be commentating today but was last seen dragging Kete Middleton’s more nubile sister off towards the broom cupboard.

The only match apart from Federer – Tsonga I’ve taken any notice of this year also involved Djokovic who was playing the Cypriot Marcos Baghdatis. Baghdatis played brilliantly but was overpowered in the end.

It’s a pity but even if he had won and gone on to fight his way through to the semi finals he would have had to be disqualified for the worst crime in professional tennis – having a personality.

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Another F – F – F – FIFA Fiasco

The 57 old farts have hijacked football.

Do you remeber the 57 old farts who, according to former Engand Rugby Union captain Will Carling, ran English Rugby.

Boggart Blog has long suspected these same 57 old farts, all drawn from that self appointed elite of international bureaucrats who run everything, have hijacked all sports where there is money to be made, because where there is money to be made there are bungs to be sought. They certainly control the Olympic Committee which is no longer about the Corinthian spirit but is a quadrennial self aggrandizing exercidse for committee members.

And now they have hijacked the common peoples’ game, football.

Sepp Blatter, a greedy, smug, graft enriched nonentity (I look forward to hearing from your lawyers Sepp)who has presided over the most incompetent and self serving governing body in world sport says he wants four more years at the helm to reform the game.

And what reform does he plan? Selling control of all fixture lists to Rupert Murdoch? Demanding copyright on all glamour pix of WAGs? Changing the name from football to Gizzabung?

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Knob Throwing

When you see a link that point to ‘Knob Throwing Festival’ you just have to take a look. Well I do anyway.

Which knobs were being thrown? I wondered. Cameron? Clegg? Milliband? Simon Cowell? Jeremy Paxman? The Archbishop of Canterbury? Ben Fogle?

We live in hope.

It tirned out to be a great disappointment. They guys were throwing a metal knob.

It looks very boring, I’ll stick with dwarf throwing for my favourite spectator sport.

Sport Niche

It’s good to see the gap in the newspaper market created by the closure of the Daily Sport will soon be filled.

Now you might have suspected as I did that the Daily Star or the Currant Bun would have been looking to pick up the Spport’s loyal readers but in fact it is The Daily Mail.

This is all the more surprising because the Mail has recently displayed delusions of quality.

Today however the Nimbys favourite paper carries a report that the FBI in America have released a memo allegdly proving that aliens did in fact(allegedly) land at Roswell, New Mexico in 1947 or 8 or 50 or something.

On top of that the paper or its weekend version The Mail On Sunday (I haven’t actually checked which) No link, the web news site I saw it on has a membership wall, but the story reported that Royal bride to be Kate Middleton has a cousin who works as a stripper in Sunderland. The ‘stunning blonde’ gets ’em out for the Makems but has toured in the burlesque show of Deeta Van Teese. She has not however been invited to the royal wedding and is not really a cousin of Kate Middleton but a second cousing one removed (not related at all then really.)

Sport readers would love the Roswell story but the royal wedding would only appeal if the stripper non – cousin was photographed wearing only a brazilian.

Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends …

For bloggers who like to take a less than serious view of the world the last few days have been dire. Lybia, Yemen, Inflation, the terrible Earthquake in New Zealand which although it is about as far away is is possible physically feels very close to home because we share a language and culture and many of us have friends or relatives living there.

I was seriously thinking of giving the blog a few days off and getting on with another project.

Then my spirits were lifted when I saw this headline:

Johnson Tells England To Attack France

Woo – hoo I thought, old Boris has really lost the plot this time. He might be reaching beyond his remit, surely it would be Dave’s job rather than the Mayor of London’s to declare war. Still, yeomen practicing archery on the village green, witch hunts, burning traitors at the stake, all that should be fun. Televsion news would give it twenty four hours saturation coverage, we could have live blogging.

And I might even get to realise one of my impossible dreams and see one of those medieval siege engines, a Mangonel or Trebuchet, he decisive weapons in the taking of Crecy and Harfleur, in action.

Alas it turned out the story refered to Martin Johnson and he was talking about a Rugby match.

Still we might yet get to see French hopes become bogged down in the mud as they did at Agincourt.

Death of the Eurozone

Football Is Becoming A Game For Wimps or Who Banned All The Pies

News that a football stadium has gone vegetarian is never going to do the game’s already tarnshed image much good. We get the feeling there soon will be a day when grizzled old pundits will be more likely to remark, cor, nice arse about the Ref rather than his comely female assistant.

Football ued to be a man’s game,there was a kind of poetry involved in the play of Tom Finney, Johhny Haynes, George Best and the other greats but it was the poetry of beer and sweat and linement. Lines are being crossed all the time nowadays and I’m not talking just about offside rules and corner kicks. There are certain traditions in the game that simply should not be tampered with for fear of making the beautiful game into some metrosexual travesty.

Pies are one.

The buzz over the last couple of days has not been about shapely legs but lentils. The chairperson of Forest Green FC has banned red meat from his team’s stadium. Players are not allowed to eat red meat any more, not just on match days but ever. We guess a nice roast is out of the question for the Forest Green lads now too as is a bit of quail but for different reasons perhaps. And for spectators, meat pies and hot dogs are out. Vegetarian snacks will be provided at half time instead. I suppose they’ll be seving Camomile Tea instead of Bovril too and sales of lager and bitter in pubs near the ground will be overtaken by Chardonnay spritzers.

I think it’s time for Boggart Blog to come overall Daily Mail reader and predict, THIS IS THE END OF CIVILISATION AS WE KNOW IT.

Former MP and cat impersonator George Galloway latched on to this story last night. (I do not listen to wee Georgie’s show directly but the insomniac in Mrs. T. does like to relay radio chat to me on nights when she has had a few drinks) Even the most fervent Galloway hater would have felt a tad emotional when the Scot waxed lyrical telling how as a boy watching his local team, the long defunct Turd Lanark or somebody, his idea of heaven was to stand on the windswept terraces eating a meat pie and drinking a cup of hot Bovril at half time.

A bean burger or a lentil somosa is just never going to be the same. Football is about passion and pies and you can’t have one without the other.

I blame Manchester United’s prawn sandwiches for starting the rot.

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He Should Have seen It Coming

Paul the Psychic Octopus has shuffled off this mortal coil, it was reported yesterday.

You remember Paul?

He lived at a German Sea Life centre and sprang to fame this summer by correctly predicting the winning teams in a series of World Cup matches.

Paul’s keepers came up with the idea of giving him two boxes of food, each adorned with the national flag of a football team that was playing a match.

Initially the keepers were just using the German team and their opponents. Whichever box Paul chose to eat from was the team that would win the tie.

And incredibly it worked. Paul chose the food from whichever box he fancied and that team won. I don’t recall Paul eating equally from both boxes which would have indicated a draw, but his performance was enough to wind up the media machine and his fame spread around the world.

Initially the Germans were rather pleased even though Paul correctly tipped Serbia to beat Germany, however this was only a group match, he also predicted a win for his adopted nation over Argentina and then favoured a German victory over England, which duly came about.

But then things started to go wrong for Germany, not for Paul who predicted Spain’s victory over the Teutons in the semi-final.

He also made enemies in Holland by plumping for Spain once again.

Following the explosion of malice and recipes for fried octopus on the internet there were fears for his safety, security at the Oberhausen Sea Life Centre was doubled and the government of Spain offered Paul a safe haven.

Paul, originally from Weymouth, was no yellow bellied octopus and he chose to remain in his tank in Oberhausen. His keepers didn’t come up with any other ideas to keep Paul in the spotlight and he returned to the ignomity from whence he came.

Over the past few weeks, the keepers had noticed that Paul was sluggish, however at 2 years and 10 months he wasn’t doing bad for an octopus.

Paul was found dead at the bottom of his tank.

Although foul play has been ruled out there is speculation that Paul was found next to a food box showing the skull and crossbones.

Did Golf Chiefs Show Favouritism To Tiger Woods

In the British Open golf championship yesterday play was suspended due to bad weather shortly after one-in-the-hole specialist Tiger Woods had begun his round.

The official reason given by golf authorities in a news conference was that the course had become unplayable. We hear from our sources however the real reason was that former Champion Woods complained that the wind had caused his playing partner to develop a dangerous hook.

Now if there is one player in the tournament who should be used to playing with hookers it’s Tiger.

This is Sandy Bunker, Boggart Blog Sport
from the Old Course, St. Andrews.

Swimming In Social Responsibility

A comment on yesterday’s blog post about the budget complained about the apparent small – minded vindictiveness of the cost saving measure that abolishes the free swimming in public pools entitlement for pensioners and children.

I had considered this a triviality but looking around left leaning blogs today it seems a lot of politically correct types have got their knickers in a right old twist about it. If that is all they can find to moan about I’d like to think it suggests Osbo presented a good budget. These are lefties we are talking about however so let’s not go over the top.

If we take the broad view the abolition of the free swimming concession is neither small minded or vindictive. It is a socially responsible and entirely justified policy. Why should pensioners and children be given preferential treatment when politicians are always banging on about fairness. And why subsidise swimming? There are lots of activities in which we can spend our time wisely. Why not free use of squash and badminton courts, gymnasiums, free horse riding and wind surfing sessions, government funded go kart tracks and hell, if we are talking about the government subsidising the favourite leisure activity of individuals on a fair and equitable basis why not free beer in pubs and free bets at Ladbrokes bookies (you’ll find more pensioners in there of an afternoon than in the local swimming pool.)

They already have free internet access at the library but you never see kids in there on account of its being a library. Aye, there’s the rub, make something free and associate it with authority and it immediately becomes crap and not worth having. You’d think the left, with their love of sociology would have sussed that bit of social psychology.

Then there is the social responsibility aspect of free swimming for children and pensioners. If the government seriously wants to encourage the unemployed to spend their time in health promoting activities so they will be fit and ready to grab any employment opportunities should such rare creatures still exist, it is, is it not, counter productive to encourage use of the pool by the two social groups most likely to piss in the water.

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Two Faces Of The Politics Of Failure