A few years ago, a fifteen year old boy telephoned my favourite football phone-in and spoke very eloquently about his team, Stoke City. Robin was passionate and offered commentary on Stoke’s playing squad, tactics and management structure as well as informed ideas as to what might improve their play even more.
Which, as you’ll know if you’ve listened to BBC 606 with Fletch & Sav for any length of time, is as rare as Mark Clattenburg keeping a low profile during a game.
Do you like what you see?
Selected essays from The Baggy Trousered Misanthropist are now available to pre-order on the Kindle Store for the ecstatically accessible price of £2.26.
Order yours now, before it becomes really popular and you risk being accused of bandwagon jumping.
This is my window. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
I suppose it would be odd if I didn’t write something about depression in Mental Health Week
. But ironically, I’m currently depressed, and more ironically still, unlike all the artists I love and admire, I’m not inspired to greatness by suspension in my own misery.
I’ve never been particularly comfortable with Caitlyn Jenner’s transition.
That bothered me.
By resigning from his position as technical director of British cycling
, Shane Sutton has instantly become the poster boy for those who believe that women aren’t capable of coping with the rigorous, often unpleasant realities of competing in elite sport.
Phone-ins and social media networks are alight with righteous indignation propelled voices claiming that if women can’t stand the intensity of the motivational tactics (which may or may not include verbal sparring and insults) required, perhaps they should reacquaint themselves with the more suitable challenges of the kitchenette.
Toby Young, Daily Mail 1st April 2016.
You could say that drawing attention to this sort of thing is giving the trolls what they want.
That Toby Young will be reclining on his chaise longue this morning, clad in smoking jacket and dragging on the big old Cuban parked between his educated lips while he cackles at the outrage his Daily Mail article provoked.
Rod Liddle will be sitting alongside him.
It’s a great leveller, social media, isn’t it?
In olden times, before Facebook and Twitter were things, we had no portal to air our feelings on matters that we had no prior knowledge of, so we limited our explosive rants to subjects we were vaguely qualified on or just made a massive fool of ourselves down the pub.
At least then we kept our friends entertained.
It’s amazing what details a correctly lit photograph can reveal, isn’t it?