WELL MY LORD, SPAIN 1, PORTUGAL 0, - SOUTH AFRICA 2010

 

Did you think Lord Triesman mad, for saying?

That referees might me bribed by Spain

If so, did watching the sending off of Costa

Give you any doubt and make you think again

21st CENTURY NURSERY RHYMES # 266

 

If St Paul's day

Be fair and clear

Then Wimbledon

Will be good this year

And strawberries will

Sell well my dear

 

St Paul's day (June 29th)

IT’S NOT OVER

 

We left the stadium after awhile

Exiting though the open turnstiles

To find inappropriately clad in licra

And standing on top of a Micra

A very fat woman singing opera

From on top of that poor little car

When I heard a laugh from my lad

Who then said “It’s all over then Dad”

THE CHARACTER OF GOLF

 

The game of Golf is character building

In the view of certain people

Others are a little more grounded

And would describe it as a perpetual

Series of unmitigated disasters

Punctuated by an occasional miracle

UEFA CHAMPIONS GREED

 

I hate the Champion’s League

On so many levels

I hate it because it’s a competition

Devised by money grubbing devils

 

I hate it because you have to enter it

Because that is where the money is found

Money to lure the pampered prima donnas

To your particular ground

 

I hate it because it is ceded

So the best teams are always on view

So that UEFA can optimise

Their television revenue

 

I hate it because it doesn’t seem to know

What it really wants to be

Is it a knockout competition?

Or the beginnings of the super league

 

But I hate it most of all

Above all other considerations

Because the European Champions League

Has so few actual champions

 

Post Script

 

Well all the above is true

But I regret the overriding reason

That I hate it so passionately is that

We have been knocked out this season

 

WHO’S THE WANKER IN THE BLACK?

The song of the supporter’s pack

“Who’s the wanker in the black?”

That was the chant

But no longer, for you cant

Disrespect the referee

For a man such as he

Is to be protected

And respected

And no one must speak ill

Even if forced to swallow the bitter pill

Of un-just officialdom

Which is NOT seldom

No manager may mutter

Query or utter

Discontent in the ref’s direction

For to commit such an indiscretion

Will see them had up before the FA

Where a fine must be paid

And be sentenced to a touchline ban

For insulting the black clad man

But why should they be protected

And forcibly respected

They are a professional group

And well salaried to boot

They no longer officiate

In their amateur state

Low-tech refereeing

A hobby to be fitted in

Attending the scene of their crime

In their spare time

With no remuneration

For their dedication

No “bread and honey”

Just enough for petrol money

If lucky luncheon vouchers maybe

For a cup of tea

And a pie to warm the soul

Before disallowing a perfectly good goal

It was much better then

With those amateur men

And be able to say to their faces

That they were bloody disgraces

I don’t think we have progressed

Now we have professional refs

They now think themselves important

And no longer want to hear the chant

But I still want to sing with the pack

“Who’s the wanker in the black?” 

CONFESSIONS OF A HOOKER

 

Lying in bed on their wedding night

The newly wed wife said, eyes full of tears

“Before we were married

I was a hooker for eight years”

The husband said to her calmly

That he had no concern about it

And that it might even

Spice up their nuptials a bit

Then she got flustered

And said “no, no you don’t understand

My name was Jeremy

And I played Rugby for England”

BETTER TO BE DEAD THAN RED

 

The Liverpool supporters

Singing from the cop

Urge me to join them

On and on they never stop

 

“You’ll never walk alone”

Is the anthem they sing

It’s gone on for years now

With that tinny scouser ring

 

Well I’m from Blackpool

And of more sober tone

Which is why I say to the cop

That I’d rather walk alone

GREAT EXPECTATIONS - SOUTH AFRICA 2010

 

I never expected us to win the cup

That was always inconceivable

But if we played to our potential

The Quarter finals were achievable

 

But when the first ball was kicked

They were more nightmare than dream

So I just wanted them to do their best

Clearly too much to ask of our team 

SUMMER SEASON

 

The summer started oh so well

With a Euro football banquet

Though sadly the home nations

Were unable to attend it

But the Euros inevitably led

To the curse of footie nations

The summer transfer market

And the incessant speculation

After the Euros came Wimbledon

And I cheered on the plucky brit

Then suffered our inclement climate

While being bored by the Cricket

I watched the windblown whingers

Hacking round at the British open

Then courtesy of the highlights

I sat and watched it all again

Then more newspaper talk

Of who will stay and who will go

Who is in and who is out

And more stories about Ronaldo

Two weeks away on the costas

Helped to numb the pain

Then home to more paper talk

And of course more summer rain

Even the upcoming Olympics

Fail to give me inspiration

Thinking of all that track and field

Merely deepens my depression

The only thing to break my torpor

And to rejuvenated my heart

Is to hear that shrill whistle blow

And have the football season start

TIGER, TIGER - STROKE PLAY

 

Elin Woods admitted

Assaulting Tiger

“How many times”?

The police asked her

She thought for a moment

"I’m not sure exactly”

Then with a nod she said

“Mark me down for a three”