http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/en-EUMokoFeed10http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/f2/dbca6811e8e674fced99683344c55a_160x200.jpghttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2007/01/22/the_william_ralph_dean_appreciation_thre~1597729/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2007-01-22:/2007/01/22/the_william_ralph_dean_appreciation_thre~1597729/Mon, 22 Jan 2007 02:27:26 +0100 <p>Quite simply the greatest ever centre forward the game has ever known. There's nothing that needs to be added about just how great William Ralph "Dixie" Dean was except to say we will never see the likes of him again. Born 100 years ago today!</p> <p>So, please spend one minute (perhaps if and when you add your name to this thread) remembering the greatest player to pull on the Royal Blue of Everton Football Club. A great sportsman and a gentleman.</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/srv/media/media_item.php?item_ID=1116105" title="dixie_legend"><img src="http://data2.blog.de/media/105/1116105_c1fbde3139_s.jpg" alt="dixie_legend" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a></p> <p>TD</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2007/01/22/the_william_ralph_dean_appreciation_thre~1597729/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2007/01/22/the_william_ralph_dean_appreciation_thre~1597729/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2007/01/03/you_get_less_for_murder~1510353/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2007-01-03:/2007/01/03/you_get_less_for_murder~1510353/Wed, 03 Jan 2007 18:51:55 +0100 <p>(Or so my other half keeps telling me). <img src="/img/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif" alt=":D" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>Our 20th Wedding Anniversary next Sunday that is!!</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2007/01/03/you_get_less_for_murder~1510353/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2007/01/03/you_get_less_for_murder~1510353/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/12/21/stand_up_for_sex_workers~1463141/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-12-21:/2006/12/21/stand_up_for_sex_workers~1463141/Thu, 21 Dec 2006 04:45:10 +0100 <p>It's about time something was done, not just in this country but everywhere, about the lack of rights for sex workers.</p> <p>Take a look at some of these examples of victims around the world:</p> <p><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/6183491.stm">http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/6183491.stm</a></p> <p>Just how many more people have to be <strong>stolen from</strong>, <strong>beaten</strong>, <strong>tortured</strong>, <strong>raped</strong>, <strong>MURDERED</strong> before Governments take action.</p> <p>In this country in almost every other walk of life the basic human rights of an individual are strongly upheld. I just don't hear our Government making any noises, the right noises to do ANYTHING to seriously avert the possibility of more sex workers being murdered for doing their job. The moral outrage following the death of five prostitutes in Ipswich, Suffolk is NOT directed adequately towards addressing just how do we let such people be placed in such a significant danger for their lives. I despair that the reaction of the Government is so minimal, directed predominantly towards blaming the drug culture that prevailed amongst the five victims. It is JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH.</p> <p>Let's start <u>RIGHT NOW</u> by petitioning the Government to change the way in which we deal with this. I would ask that you attach your comments to my blog and, with adequate support let us take this matter forward.</p> <p>Thank you.</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/12/21/stand_up_for_sex_workers~1463141/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/12/21/stand_up_for_sex_workers~1463141/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/12/14/stripey_beast~1435868/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-12-14:/2006/12/14/stripey_beast~1435868/Thu, 14 Dec 2006 01:58:53 +0100 <p><a href="http://www.stripy-beast.co.uk/index.html">http://www.stripy-beast.co.uk/index.html</a></p> <p>Some interesting views for you to consider</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/12/14/stripey_beast~1435868/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/12/14/stripey_beast~1435868/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/11/12/from_wisconsin_with_love~1320810/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-11-12:/2006/11/12/from_wisconsin_with_love~1320810/Sun, 12 Nov 2006 03:06:50 +0100 <p>Just back from a great week in Wisconsin - taking in a game of football at Green Bay - the (once) mighty Packers, more of which later.</p> <p>Also just got a parking ticket for parking on an unmarked spot - I won't be lying down and taking that without going all the way to the highest necessary court to beat the idiot who wrote this ticket.</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/11/12/from_wisconsin_with_love~1320810/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/11/12/from_wisconsin_with_love~1320810/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/28/this_weekends_football~1168834/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-09-28:/2006/09/28/this_weekends_football~1168834/Thu, 28 Sep 2006 15:34:54 +0200 <p>Bolton v Liverpool 1-1<br> Charlton v Arsenal 0-3<br> Chelsea v Aston Villa 3-1<br> Everton v Man City 2-0 (hopefully!)<br> Sheff Utd v Middlesbrough 1-0 (great TV!!)</p> <p>Sunday, 01 October 2006<br> West Ham v Reading 2-1<br> Blackburn v Wigan 2-1<br> Man Utd v CarToon Notwork 3-0<br> Tottenham v Portsmouth 2-2</p> <p>Watford v Fulham 1-1</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/28/this_weekends_football~1168834/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/28/this_weekends_football~1168834/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/12/weekend_football_etc~1119306/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-09-12:/2006/09/12/weekend_football_etc~1119306/Tue, 12 Sep 2006 15:11:55 +0200 <p>Safe to say I had fun at Goodison Saturday with my son.</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/12/weekend_football_etc~1119306/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/12/weekend_football_etc~1119306/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/premier_league_this_weekend~1101351/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-09-06:/2006/09/06/premier_league_this_weekend~1101351/Wed, 06 Sep 2006 10:18:45 +0200 <p>Majority prediction in brackets (50 entries)<br> Everton v Liverpool 0-0 (2-1)<br> Arsenal v Mboro 2-0 (2-0)<br> Bolton v Watford 2-1 (2-1)<br> Chelsea v Charlton 2-0 (3-0)<br> Newcastle v Fulham 2-1 (2-1)<br> Portsmouth v Wigan 2-1 (2-1)<br> Sheff Utd v Blackburn 1-0 (1-1)<br> Man Utd v Tottenham 2-0 (2-1)<br> West Ham v Aston Villa 2-2 (1-1)<br> Reading v Man City 1-0 (1-1) </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/premier_league_this_weekend~1101351/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/premier_league_this_weekend~1101351/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/fresh_air_in_the_morning~1101332/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-09-06:/2006/09/06/fresh_air_in_the_morning~1101332/Wed, 06 Sep 2006 10:12:21 +0200 <p>A story (well the opening lines of one)</p> <p>I wake up. I want to kill my mother. OK? So what? I want to kill her every morning I wake up. But today is different. It’s a special day to me. This Thursday morning is the Silver Anniversary. It’s been 25 long and lonely years since that day. That day, THAT DAY, I have never forgiven her for what she did. And every day I have vowed revenge. But it takes courage to plunge the knife, to pull the cord around her rotten neck, to drop one pill too many in her black coffee, to watch her suffer and die. Every day I have concocted one of a thousand gruesome deaths to satiate my raw desire to avenge my father’s memory, to deliver the final deserving blows (one of many).</p> <p>But why has it taken 25 years of pain and still I haven’t fulfilled my ultimate goal? I will tell you why. Because it has taken me 25 fucking years to find her and she doesn’t even know I know where she is. </p> <p>In the beginning it was a tough childhood. Brought up on one of the roughest estates of glorious post-war rebuilt Britain. Bruised, battered, neglected. In short screwed up. A drunken mother and an absent father. Well, absent if down the pub away from the harridan of a wife qualifies.</p> <p>So what was the balance sheet of childhood like? Education - none. Love – even less. One of four unfortunate, unwanted urchins, forced to steal for our tea. The oldest of four unkempt, reviled, revolting bastards. The scourge of the estate. First there was me, Graham Anthony Payne, then 2 years later the first of three sisters, Caroline Melissa. Then the twins – oh the pain that mother must have suffered bringing TWO little bitches into the world. Mary-Jane and Grace. Grace!! Never was a child more misnamed. So lacking in civility. But who could expect any more?</p> <p>Father worked – when he was sober – on the docks as a stevedore. We barely saw him, save for Sunday mornings. He would go out before we woke, and return, drunk, past midnight, angry and looking for sex. We heard the repulsive noises through the thin walls as mother would “satisfy” him, briefly, Four little bastards, one bedroom, no hope, no future.</p> <p>Father, we called him Father but we didn’t even know if he was. Poor bastard. Threw himself off the top floor of the estate one Sunday morning, 25 years ago, 25 years ago today. Couldn’t take anymore of the bitch. She drove him to it. Drove him to drink, drove him to the arms of prostitutes (Uncle George told me this much later). And I never forgave her. </p> <p>It’s been 25 years, Nine thousand one hundred and thirty two days, and not a single day has passed when I haven’t plotted my revenge. How appropriate today would be I thought. What a perfect memorial, a perfect moment to pay her back.</p> <p>My wife turns over, moans, goes back to sleep. Work seems a long way off this cold November morning. I can almost feel the cold wind through the windows as I stare at the barren fields beyond the garden fence. Birdsong permeates the crisp morning. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/fresh_air_in_the_morning~1101332/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/fresh_air_in_the_morning~1101332/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/translations~1101326/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-09-06:/2006/09/06/translations~1101326/Wed, 06 Sep 2006 10:09:42 +0200 <p>This paper was turned in by an Oakland High school student who received the highest honors at the school district's ebonics translation competition. </p> <p>Assignment: </p> <p><em><br> Please translate the following song lyrics from ebonics to standard English.</em> </p> <p>Artist: Notorious B.I.G. Album: Ready to Die Song: One more chance (remix) </p> <p>First things first, I poppa, freaks all the honeys Dummies - playboy bunnies, those wantin' money Those the ones I like 'cause they don't get nathan' But penetration, unless it smells like sanitation Garbage, I turn like doorknobs Heart throb, never, black and ugly as ever However, I stay coochied down to the socks Rings and watch filled with rocks </p> <p>As a general rule, I perform deviant sexual acts with women of all kinds, including but not limited to those with limited intellect, nude magazine models, and whores. I particularly enjoy sexual encounters with the latter group as they are generally disappointed in the fact that they only receive penile intercourse and nothing more, unless of course, they douche on a consistent basis. Although I am extremely unattractive, I am able to engage in these types of sexual acts with some regularity. Perhaps my sexuality is somehow related to my fancy and expensive jewelery. </p> <p>And my jam knock in the Mitsubishi Girls pee pee when they see me Nava-hoes creep me in they tee pee As I lay down laws like I lay carpet Stop it - if you think your gonna make a profit </p> <p>I enjoy playing my music loudly on my car stereo. Apparently, women enjoy this also because they become sexually aroused when they see me driving. Oddly enough, when I visit the Native American reservations, some of the more sexually promiscuous Indian women attempt to seduce me in their homes. Their intent is to divest me of my earnings. Such actions are unacceptable.<br> Don't see my ones, don't see my guns - get it Now tell ya friends Poppa hit it then split it In two as I flow with the Junior Mafia I don't know what the hell's stoppin' ya I'm clockin' ya - Versace shades watchin' ya Once ya grin, I'm in game, begin </p> <p>Understand this fact: you can have neither my money, nor my weapons. I suggest that you inform your peers that we engaged in violent sexual acts. Currently, I am rapping with my associates, the Junior Mafia. I'm having some difficulty understanding why you refuse to approach me. I am attempting to make eye contact with you through my expensives glasses, and as soon as you respond with a smile, I will approach you. </p> <p>First I talk about how I dress and this And diamond necklesses - stretch Lexuses The sex is just immaculate from the back I get Deeper and deeper - help ya reach the Climax that your man can't make Call and tell him you'll be home real late Let's sing the break </p> <p>I prefer to open the conversation with light banter about my wardrobe and jewelery, then I like to discuss my collection of expensive cars. This is more than enough to convince you to have sexual intercourse with me. I am able to insert my penis further into you when I enter you from behind. Furthermore, you will be able to reach orgasm. I understand this to be a problem with your current sexual partner. He needn't be concerned about your whereabouts. Please phone him and inform him that you won't be home for a while. By the way, please sing the chorus of the song for me also. </p> <p>She's sick of that song on how it's so long Thought he worked his until I handled my biz There I is - major pain like Damon Wayans Low down dirty even like his brother Keenan Schemin' - don't bring your girl 'round me True player for real, ask Puff Daddy </p> <p>Your current love interest no longer wishes to hear your fabrications about the length of your member. After I had sexual intercourse with your woman, she became enlightened as to the proper way it is supposed to be performed; violently and immorally. It would be in your best interest to keep your woman away from me as my sexual prowess is very strong. If you are unconvinced, ask Puff Daddy. </p> <p>You - ringin' bells with bags from Chanel Baby Benz, traded in your Hyundai Excel Fully equipped, CD changer with the cell She beeped me, meet me at twelve<br> Despite the fact that you attempted to win her at her doorstep with bags full of expensive clothes and a car (the lower end model Mercedes Benz which you financed by signing over your current vehicle) containing an expensive stereo and a cellular phone, your woman has contacted me through my pager indicating that we should rendezvous at midnight. </p> <p>Where you at? Flippin' jobs, playin' car notes? While I'm swimmin' in ya women like the breast stroke Right stroke, left stroke what's the best stroke Death stroke - tongue all down her throat Nuthin' left to do but send her home to you I'm through - can ya sing the song for me, boo? </p> <p>You, on the other hand, jump from job to job, barely able to maintain payments on the Mercedes Benz you purchased for your woman. Meanwhile, I continue to engage in sexual intercourse and commit lewd osculatory acts with your women. My only remaining option is to request that they leave my home and return to you because I have reached orgasm and no longer have a need for their presence.<br> So, what's it gonna be? Him or me? We can cruise the world with pearls Gator boots for girls The envy of all women, crushed linen Cartier wrist-wear with diamonds in 'em The finest women I love with a passion Ya man's a wimp, I give that ass a good thrashin' </p> <p>The ultimate decision rests with you. Whom do you choose as your sexual partner. I can take you on cruises around the world. I will dress you in the finest jewelery and footwear. You will be envied by women worldwide in your fine clothes and jewelery. There is a special place in my heart for beautiful women. I will defeat your man in an altercation because he is effeminate.<br> High fashion - flyin' into all states Sexin' me while your man masterbates Isn't this great? Your flight leaves at eight Her flight lands at nine, my game just rewinds Lyrically I'm supposed to represent I'm not only the client, I'm the player president </p> <p>You will be dressed in finest clothes on the runways of Paris. I will fly you to every state to shop for fine clothes and jewelery. You will enjoy sexual intercourse with me and your man will be forced to pleasure himself through manual stimulation. What a life! I'll return you to LaGuardia in time to catch your 8 o'clock flight. The timing is perfect becuase I have scheduled a date with a second woman who arrives at the same gate at 9 o'clock. I'll seduce her in the same way that I seduced you. I rap well and I am a positive reflection of my hometown. Not only am I a sexually deviant, misogynistic, immoral, wealthy, male prostitute, but I also sit on the board of directors of the organization that governs others of my kind. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/translations~1101326/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/translations~1101326/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/by_grand_central_station_i_sat_down_and_~1101317/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-09-06:/2006/09/06/by_grand_central_station_i_sat_down_and_~1101317/Wed, 06 Sep 2006 10:06:01 +0200 <p>An excerpt from this most beautiful of books:</p> <p>I am standing on a corner in Monterey, waiting for the bus to come in, and all the muscles of my will are holding my terror to face the moment that I most desire. Apprehension, and the summer afternoon keep dying my lips, prepared at ten-minute intervals all through the five hour wait.</p> <p>But then it is her eyes that come forward out of the vulgar disembarkers to reassure me that the bus has not disgorged disaster: her Madonna eyes, soft as the newly-born, trusting as the un-tempted. And, for a moment, at that gaze, I am happy to forgo my future, and postpone indefinitely the miracle hanging fire. Her eyes shower me with innocence and surprise. Was it for her, after all, for her whom I had never expected nor imagined that there had been compounded such ruses of convenience? Behind her he for whom I have waited so long, who has stalked so unbearably through my nightly dreams, fumbles with the tickets and the bags, and shuffles up to the event which too much anticipation has fingered to shreds.</p> <p>For after all, it is all her. We sit in a café drinking coffee. He recounts their adventures and says, "It was like this, wasn't it, darling", "I did well then, didn't I, dearest heart?", and she smiles happily across the room with confidence that appals. How can she walk through the streets, so vulnerable, so unknowing, and not have people and dogs and perpetual calamity following her? But overhung with her vines of faith, she is protected from their gaze like the pools in Epping Forest. I see she can walk across the leering world and suffer injuries only from the ones she loves. But I love her and her silence is propaganda for sainthood.</p> <p>So we drive along the Californian coast singing together, and I entirely renounce him only for her peace of mind. The wild road winds around ledges manufactured from the mountains and cliffs. The Pacific in blue spasms reaches its superlatives.</p> <p>Why do I not jump off this cliff where I lie sickened by the moon? I know these days are offering me only murder for my future. It is not just the creeping fingers of the cold that dissuade me from action, and allow me to accept the hypocritical hope that there mat be some solution. Like Macbeth, I keep remembering that I am their host. So it is tomorrow's breakfast rather than the future's blood that dictates fatal forbearance. Nature, perpetual whore, distracts with the immediate. Shifty-eyed with this fallacy I plough back to my bed, up through the tickling grass. So, through the summer days, we sit on the Californian coast, drinking coffee on the wooden steps of our cottages.</p> <p>Up the canyon the redwoods and the thick left-hands of the castor tree forebode disaster by their beauty, built on too grand a scale. The creek gushes over green boulders into pools no human ever uses, down canyons into the sea.<br> But poison oak grows over the path and over all the banks, and it is impossible even to go into the damp overhung valley without being poisoned. Later in the year it flushes scarlet, both warning of and recording fatality.<br> Between the canyons the hills slide steep and cropped to the cliffs that isolate the Pacific. They change from gold to silver, grow purple and massive from a distance, and disintegrate down-hill in avalanches of sand.<br> Round the doorways double-size flowers grow without encouragement: lilacs, nasturtiums in a bank down to the creek, roses, geraniums, fuchsias, bleeding-hearts, and hydrangeas. The sea blooms. The stream rushes loudly.</p> <p>When the sea otters leave their playing under the cliff, the kelp in amorous coils appear to pin down the Pacific. There are rattlesnakes and widow-spiders and mists that rise from below. But the days leave the recollection of sun and flowers.</p> <p>Day deceives, but at night no one is safe from hallucination. The legends here are all of blood-feuds and suicide, uncanny foresight and supernatural knowledge. Before the convict workers put up the road, loneliness drove women to jump in the sea. Tales were told of the convicts: how some went mad along the coast, while others became hypnotised to it, and, when they were released, returned to marry local girls.</p> <p>The long days seduce all thoughts away, and we lie like lizards in the sun, postponing our lives indefinitely. But by the bathing pool, or on the sandhills by the beach, the Beginning lurks uncomfortable on the outskirts of the circle, like an unpopular person whom ignoring can keep away. The very silence, the very avoiding of any intimacy between us, when he, when he was only a word, was able to cause me sleepless nights and shivers of intimation, is more dangerous.<br> Our seeming detachment gathers strength. I sit back and impersonally say, I see human vanity, or feel myself full of gladness because there is a gentleness between him or her, or even feel irritation because he lets her do too much of the work, sits lolling while she chops wood for the stove.</p> <p>But he never passes anywhere near me without every drop of my blood springing to attention. My mind may reason that the terseness only registers neutrality, but my heart knows no true neutrality was ever so full of passion. One day along the pass he brushed my breast in passing, and I though, does this Efflorescence offend him? And I went into the redwoods brooding and blushing with rage, to be stamped so obviously with femininity and liable to humiliation worse than Venus's with Adonis, purely by reason of my accidental but flaunting sex.</p> <p>Alas, I know that he is the hermaphrodite whose love looks up through the appletree with a golden indeterminate face. While we drive along the road in the evening, talking as impersonally as a radio discussion, he tells me, "A boy with green eyes and long lashes, whom I had never seen before, took me into the back of a printshop and made love to me, and for two weeks I went around remembering the numbers on bus conductors' hats."</p> <p>"One should love beings whatever their sex," I reply, but withdraw into the dark with my obstreperous shape of shame, offended with my own flesh which cannot metamorphose into a printshop boy with arms like chalices.</p> <p>Then days go by without even this much exchange of metaphor, and my tongue seems to wither in my throat from the unhappy silence, and the moons that rise and set unused, and the sun that melts into the Pacific uselessly, drive me to tears and my cliff of vigil at the end of the peninsula. I do not beacon to the Beginning, whose advent will surely strew our world with blood, but I weep for such a waste of life lying under my thumb.</p> <p>His foreshortened face appears in profile on the car window like an irregular graph of my doom, merciless as a mathematician, leering accompaniment to all my good resolves. There is no medicinal to be obtained from the dried herbs of any natural hill, for when I tread those upward paths, the lowest vines conspire to abet my plot, and the poison oak thrusts its insinuation under my foot.</p> <p>From the corners where the hill turns from the sea and goes into the secrecy and damp air of forbidden things, I stand disinterestedly examining the instruments and the pattern of my fate. It is a slow motion process of the guillotine in action, and I see plainly that no miracle can avert the imminent deaths. I see the time, regarding equably the appearance, but I am as detached as the statistician is when he lists his thousand dead.</p> <p>When his soft shadow, which yet in the night comes barbed with all the weapons of guilt, is cast hugely upon the pane, I watch it as from a loge in the theatre, the continually vibrating I in darkness. Swearing invulnerability, I measure mercilessly his shortcomings, and with luxurious scorn, ask who could be ensnared there.</p> <p>But what huge shadow is more than my only moon, even more than my destruction: it has the innocently slipping advent of the next generation, which enters in one night of joy, and leaves a meadowful of lamenting milkmaids when its purpose is grown to fruit.</p> <p>Also, smoothed away from all detail, I see, not the face of a lover to arouse my coquetry or defiance, but the gentle outline of a young girl. And this, though shocking, enables me to understand, and myself rise virile as a cobra, out of my loge, to assume control.</p> <p>He kissed my forehead driving along the coast in evening, and now, wherever I go, like the sword of Damocles, that greater never-to-be-given kiss hangs above my doomed head. He took my hand between the two shabby front seats of the Ford, and it was dark, and I was looking the other way, but now that hand casts everywhere an octopus shadow from which I can never escape. The tremendous gentleness of that moment smothers me under; all through the night it is centaurs hoofed and galloping over my heart; the poison has got into my blood. I stand on the edge of the cliff, but the future is already done.</p> <p>It is written. Nothing can escape. Floating through the waves with seaweed in my hair, or being washed up battered on the inaccessible rocks, cannot undo the event to which there were never any alternatives. O lucky Daphne, motion-less and green to avoid the touch of a god! Lucky Syrinx, who chose a legend instead of too much blood! For me there was no choice. There was no crossroads at all<br> I am jealous of the hawk because he can get so far out of the world, or I would follow with passionate envy the seagull swooping to possible cessation. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/by_grand_central_station_i_sat_down_and_~1101317/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/by_grand_central_station_i_sat_down_and_~1101317/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/a_game_of_two_pay_packets~1101309/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-09-06:/2006/09/06/a_game_of_two_pay_packets~1101309/Wed, 06 Sep 2006 10:01:55 +0200 <p>Apr 2005 </p> <p>Rod Liddle wrote this wonderful article in "The Spectator" </p> <p>Recently, the champions of English football, Arsenal, took on Hitler’s favourite team, Bayern Munich, in a European Champions League match — and, I’m delighted to say, they got well and truly stuffed. I’m afraid that football brings out the patriot in me and I’m always inclined to put aside my club loyalties to cheer on a British — or, better still, English — team.<br> And so it was on that night in southern Germany: of the 26 players who took part in the match, only one of them was English — Bayern’s midfielder, Owen Hargreaves, who scampered around the pitch like an office boy on amphetamines for the last 25 minutes or so. And even Hargreaves is English only in the way that, say, Zola Budd or Prince Albert were English. But, still, it was enough for me. Play up, Bayern! In fact, just one of the seven English teams competing in European competitions this year contained a majority of English players — and that was my team, Millwall. And we went out in round one.<br> Talk to the FA and you’ll be told that the 2004–05 season has been a monumental success. It is true that we have been entertained, on our television screens, by some lovely football at times. It is true, too, that of the four clubs remaining in the European Champions competition, two of them are English or, more accurately, play their games on grounds situated in England. And the national side is arguably stronger than it has been for 35 years, possessing a midfield which is the envy of even Brazil or France. But this aside, the season has been a depressing and at times revolting spectacle, predictable in its outcomes, populated by ever more loutish, greedy and stupid players and petulant, duplicitous and arrogant managers. No wonder, then, that the fans are beginning to vote with their feet.<br> This season the Premiership will be won by Chelsea, with Arsenal and Manchester United fighting it out for second place. The FA Cup will be won by Arsenal or Manchester United and the League Cup already resides at Stamford Bridge. This triopoly is a desperately boring and stifling state of affairs. Further, the three clubs relegated from the Premiership will certainly consist of two of those promoted to it last year and most likely all three. The gulf between the divisions widens by the year, just as the proportion of English-born players at Premiership clubs dwindles by the year. The days when the League championship — and indeed a European championship or two — could be won by a side consisting of local players reinforced by canny purchases by a clever and inspirational manager, as was once the case with Nottingham Forest and Aston Villa, are over. For good. Today, success is solely about the amount of money spent.<br> I suppose we should be grateful for the arriviste Chelsea, fuelled by the, uh, undoubtedly perfectly legitimate fortune of the owner, Roman Abramovich. For the last eight months, in supermarkets from Berwick to Barnstaple, you will see chavs who have recently discovered that lo, they are Chelsea fans and thus obliged to wear the nursery-blue Emirates-sponsored football shirt as a badge of loyalty. But loyalty to what, exactly? Chelsea, with its billionaire Russian owner, multinational task force of a team, sharp Portuguese manager and geographical situation in a part of London characterised by wealth and endemic transience, is no longer a place or a tradition. The new fans, those who don’t remember Pat Nevin, never mind Charlie Cooke, are showing a loyalty to success and money, nothing else. They are the sort of people who will vote for Tony Blair on 5 May solely because they think he will win. People who live their sad lives vicariously through the success of others.<br> For those less easily assuaged, Premiership football has become quite literally a bit of a turn-off: the inevitability of its outcomes and the lack of genuine competition has made even that glistening array of goals on the TV highlight shows dull and pointless. Match of the Day’s viewing figures, earlier this season, were down by 9 per cent. Sky has had some of its lowest-ever viewing figures for games — and fewer people are turning up at the grounds, too. In the first quarter of the season 5 per cent fewer people paid to watch their sullen heroes in the flesh, and this followed a slight decrease the season before. But in any case, the turnstiles matter less these days: according to the accountants Deloitte & Touche, television broadcasting now provides the clubs’ major source of income, whereas only six years ago it was the smallest. So now, the real fans can go hang.<br> And where the money is most concentrated — at Arsenal, Manchester United and Chelsea but also, to a slightly lesser extent, at Newcastle and Liverpool — so you will see the most flagrant contempt for the fans, for the various impotent football industry bodies, for the referees, for the national team, for the sporting ethos — even for the TV viewers. That ruddy-faced mountain of lachrymose Scottish bile, Sir Alex Ferguson, refuses to speak to the BBC despite the fact that his club trousers millions from the BBC contract — apparently because the corporation had the temerity to investigate his son’s role as a football agent. And nobody calls him to order. What the BBC should do is withhold every penny to this flatulent, preening club until Ferguson complies with his obligations — or not show United at all, thus giving the rest of us a break. Manchester United, Newcastle and Arsenal players can cheat and brawl to their hearts’ content, without very much — or, usually, nothing — in the way of censure from their clubs, and the footballing authorities look on, supine. Chelsea’s manager, Jose Mourinho — an attractive man in many ways — can heap vitriol and accusations of partisanship on a top international referee, causing him to retire from the profession, and Uefa hands him a few weeks off from the dug-out, nothing more. They dare not cross the clubs with the money or the men with the clout. And all of the top club managers can withhold players from international duty — sometimes, it would seem, fraudulently — so that the pampered little moppets remain uninjured for the next stroll out against those children of a lesser God: Southampton or Charlton or Fulham.<br> These days, when the top clubs play the smaller teams in a particularly crucial game, the only recourse for the underdogs is to kick them off the park, as happened recently when Arsenal met Blackburn. This does not provide for an edifying spectacle but, still, I’d have happily clambered down on to the pitch to help Blackburn do the business, especially if it meant kicking Robert Pires really hard. We are grateful for the chance to watch Robben, Henry and Ronaldo et al weave their magic, but the pay-off is that somehow the English game has been left high and dry. For the real fans it has never been just about beauty — as a Millwall supporter, this is something I know only too well. It should also be about a sense of place and a sense of belonging, of commitment and community and something which transcends the obscene pay packets. But how can you explain that to one of those new Chelsea fans or, indeed, players?</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/a_game_of_two_pay_packets~1101309/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>footballhttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/06/a_game_of_two_pay_packets~1101309/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/05/everton_v_liverpoll~1099936/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-09-05:/2006/09/05/everton_v_liverpoll~1099936/Tue, 05 Sep 2006 19:22:57 +0200 <p>I was really looking forward to this one - now I've heard who the ref is I might not bother going.</p> <p>Graham "3 card trick" Poll - and here's 3 of his less than great efforts in previous Everton - Liverpool encounters:</p> <p>Includes 1-3 last season (2 Everton off for nothing challenges in at least one instance) 0-0 at Analfield (missed Gerrard's lunge on Naysmith's testicles - the one which got Gerrard a long ban on review), 0-0 at Goodison (2000 - remember this?)</p> <p>"Then, in the last seconds, Everton were again denied by the ref, when Westerveld took a free-kick quickly, it hit Hutchison in the back as he was walking away, and it flew into the net... GOAL! No, said Mr Poll!!!! He claims he had already blown for time. With the clock at 91:45 – 15 seconds short of the 2 mins of added time" </p> <p>Well let's see if he can even things up just a tad but I wouldn't bank on it. </p> <p>A fair even handed performance reflected in the appropriate result on the day shouldn't be too much to ask for!</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/05/everton_v_liverpoll~1099936/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/05/everton_v_liverpoll~1099936/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/01/comebacks_of_the_year~1088494/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-09-01:/2006/09/01/comebacks_of_the_year~1088494/Fri, 01 Sep 2006 14:16:26 +0200 <p>Smart Ass Answer #5:</p> <p>A flight attendant was stationed at the departure gate to check tickets. As a<br> man approached, she extended her hand for the ticket and he opened his trench coat and flashed her. Without missing a beat.... she said, Sir, I need to see your ticket not your stub.</p> <p>Smart Ass Answer #4:</p> <p>A lady was picking through the frozen turkeys at the grocery store, but she couldnt find one big enough for her family. She asked a stock boy, Do these turkeys get any bigger? The stock boy replied, No maam, theyre<br> dead.</p> <p>Smart Ass Answer #3:</p> <p>The cop got out of his car and the kid who was stopped for speeding rolled down his window. Ive been waiting for you all day, the cop said. The kid replied, Yeah, well I go here as fast as I could. When the cop finally stopped laughing, he sent the kid on his way without a ticket.</p> <p>Smart Ass Answer #2:</p> <p>A truck driver was driving along on the freeway. A sign comes up that reads,<br> Low Bridge Ahead. Before he knows it, the bridge is right ahead of him and he gets stuck under the bridge. Cars are backed up for miles. Finally, a police car comes up. The cop gets out of his car and walks to the truck driver, puts his hands on his hips and says, Got stuck, huh? The truck driver says, No, I was delivering this bridge and ran out of gas.</p> <p>#1 SMART ASS ANSWER OF THE YEAR 2004</p> <p>A college teacher reminds her class of tomorrows final exam. Now class, I<br> wont tolerate any excuses for you not being here tomorrow. I might consider a nuclear attack or a serious personal injury or illness, or a death in your immediate family, but thats it, no other excuses whatsoever A smart ass guy in the back of the room raised his hand and asked,What would you say if tomorrow I said I was suffering from complete and utter sexual exhaustion? The entire class is reduced to laughter and snickering. When silence is restored, the teacher smiles knowingly at the student, shakes her head and sweetly says Well, I guess youd have to write the exam with your other hand.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/01/comebacks_of_the_year~1088494/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/09/01/comebacks_of_the_year~1088494/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/28/weekend_football_etc~1075700/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-08-28:/2006/08/28/weekend_football_etc~1075700/Mon, 28 Aug 2006 10:45:47 +0200 <p>My predictions were:</p> <p>Liverpool 1 West Ham 0 - well 2-1 actually but near enough<br> Aston Villa 1 Newcastle 0 - 2-0 - 2 teams going in the opposite direction<br> Charlton 2 Bolton 1 - 2-0, not convinced by Bolton this season.<br> Fulham 2 Sheff Utd 1 - 1-0 - highly predictable home win<br> Tottenham 1 Everton 1 - 0-2 didn't dare hope for a win!!!<br> Watford 0 Man Utd 2 - 1-2 - safe as houses (a banker bet!)<br> Wigan 1 Reading 2 - 1-0 - my nap down the spout!<br> Man City 0 Arsenal 1 - if points were awarded for style... but 1-0<br> Blackburn 1 Chelsea 2 - 0-2, obvious away pick</p> <p>Middlesbro 1 Portsmouth 1 - Mendes out, maybe I'll change my mind..</p> <p>Blue double: Illustrious Blue 5/2 and Everton (circa 4/1) netted 16.5/1 for a friend on Saturday.</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/28/weekend_football_etc~1075700/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/28/weekend_football_etc~1075700/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/28/tongue_tied~1075660/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-08-28:/2006/08/28/tongue_tied~1075660/Mon, 28 Aug 2006 10:30:12 +0200 <p>Son (19, sober at the time): Annis mi honstely</p> <p>Translation: Answer me honestly.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/28/tongue_tied~1075660/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/28/tongue_tied~1075660/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/26/blogtour~1070626/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-08-26:/2006/08/26/blogtour~1070626/Sat, 26 Aug 2006 11:56:07 +0200 <p>Taking the idea of "Six degrees of Separation" a little further... (the one where it is said anyone can link to anyone else in the world via 6 people...) I will throw a few names into the ring...</p> <p>I know a few people who share the same name and are unrelated. So here's a few names and you can, if you so wish, tell me you know someone with this name..</p> <p>Here's an few easy ones: </p> <p>1. John Smith - doesn't everyone know a John Smith?</p> <p>2. James Bond - I kid you not....</p> <p>3. Christine Jones - I know 2 Christine Jones'</p> <p>4. Chris Cooper - I know 2 Chris Coopers - one male Chris and one female Chris(tine)</p> <p>Obviously we could go the whole hog and ask about any common English/Scottish/Welsh/Irish surnames... </p> <p>Care to contribute - do you know a perfectly decent George Bush - I know a nicer Margaret Thatcher!!!?</p> <p>TD</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/26/blogtour~1070626/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/26/blogtour~1070626/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/26/sunshine_sunshine_happy_day~1070526/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-08-26:/2006/08/26/sunshine_sunshine_happy_day~1070526/Sat, 26 Aug 2006 11:14:25 +0200 <p>Off to the cricket match, I'm away</p> <p>Somebody else can work for me... I'm the happy absentee..</p> <p>...Now it's 7 o'clock and the play must stop</p> <p><strong>LET'S HOPE THAT LANCASHIRE'S WELL ON TOP</strong></p> <p>Bowl, bat or field - go all out for a win</p> <p>Up with the Red Rose down with the White.....</p> <p>(The Spinners) - Lancashire being my home county I am rooting for them in today's cricket final.. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/26/sunshine_sunshine_happy_day~1070526/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/26/sunshine_sunshine_happy_day~1070526/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/25/premier_league_this_weekend~1068569/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-08-25:/2006/08/25/premier_league_this_weekend~1068569/Fri, 25 Aug 2006 14:49:25 +0200 <p>I run a prediction competition so, FWIW, here are my efforts this weekend:</p> <p>Liverpool 1 West Ham 0<br> Aston Villa 1 Newcastle 0<br> Charlton 2 Bolton 1<br> Fulham 2 Sheff Utd 1<br> Tottenham 1 Everton 1<br> Watford 0 Man Utd 2<br> Wigan 1 Reading 2<br> Man City 0 Arsenal 1<br> Blackburn 1 Chelsea 2<br> Middlesbro 1 Portsmouth 1</p> <p>Impressed with Pompey's resolve.. improved! Fancy Liverpool to nick the opener, perhaps with a penalty.. Man Utd should win easily enough but Watford will make them fight all the way. Reading to win at Wigan (value bet!)</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/25/premier_league_this_weekend~1068569/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/25/premier_league_this_weekend~1068569/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/25/spurs_v_everton~1068129/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-08-25:/2006/08/25/spurs_v_everton~1068129/Fri, 25 Aug 2006 12:21:06 +0200 <p>I fancy us for a point tomorrow. Yes, I know we just always collapse at WHL, often from a winning position, but I have faith this season in the mighty Blues.</p> <p>1-1 draw - Arteta free-kick!!</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/25/spurs_v_everton~1068129/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/25/spurs_v_everton~1068129/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/25/it_s_not_cricket~1067222/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-08-25:/2006/08/25/it_s_not_cricket~1067222/Fri, 25 Aug 2006 01:10:10 +0200 <p>A few days have passed, allowing calm reflection on matters thus far:</p> <p>Hmm - on the one hand, without adequate evidence to satisfy the paying customer, we are told that the Pakistan cricket team are accused (and it seems found guilty by the judge, jury and executioner that was Mr Hair-brain.) On the other hand it's not exactly the first example of "ball tampering" by a cricket team - nor indeed gamesmanship (!) by a sports team. Surely these things should be resolved at the end of the day rather than mid-game. Guilt or Innocence could have, nay should have been established in a formal, court setting, instead of this unsatisfactory speculative manner, leaving the public to simply form their own opinions on the rights and wrongs of what little we know of the matter.</p> <p>A bad day for sport not to mention Pakistan-England relations (as if we needed any more aggro on or off the field of play to stoke up ill feeling).</p> <p>TD</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/25/it_s_not_cricket~1067222/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/25/it_s_not_cricket~1067222/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/23/chat_up_lines~1062785/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-08-23:/2006/08/23/chat_up_lines~1062785/Wed, 23 Aug 2006 16:01:17 +0200 <p>I <u>don't</u> recommend any of the following top chat-up lines, lads.......</p> <p>1. Did you fart, because you blew me away.</p> <p>2. Are your parents retarded, 'cause you sure are special.</p> <p>3. My Love for you is like diarrhoea ... I can't hold it in.</p> <p>4. Do you have a library card, 'cause I'd like to sign you out.</p> <p>5. Is there a mirror in your pants? Because I can see myself in them</p> <p>6. If you and I were Squirrels, I'd store my nuts in your hole.</p> <p>7. You might not be the best looking girl here, but beauty is only a light switch away.</p> <p>8. I may not be Fred Flintstone, but I bet I can make your bed-rock.</p> <p>9. Your eyes are as blue as window cleaner.</p> <p>10. If you're going to regret this in the morning, we can sleep until the afternoon.</p> <p>11. Your face reminds me of a spanner, every time I think of it my nuts tighten.</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/23/chat_up_lines~1062785/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/23/chat_up_lines~1062785/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/22/i_ve_been_away_so_to_amuse_you~1059137/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-08-22:/2006/08/22/i_ve_been_away_so_to_amuse_you~1059137/Tue, 22 Aug 2006 10:55:07 +0200 <p>Here's the complaint letter of the year (2001) - time has marched on so some of the facts stated, such as the lack of an alternate ISP are dated, but nevertheless it's quite amusing....</p> <p>A real-life customer complaint letter sent to NTL (to their complaints dept....)</p> <p>Dear Cretins,<br> I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for<br> your 3-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, and telephone. During this<br> three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity<br> of monolithic proportions. Please allow me to provide specific details,<br> so that you can either pursue your professional perogative, and seek to<br> rectify these difficulties - or more likely (I suspect) so that you can<br> have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working<br> day smoking B&H and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog in your office:<br> My initial installation was cancelled without warning, resulting in my<br> spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your<br> technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, I spent a further 57<br> minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more<br> annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful<br> website....HOW?</p> <p>I alleviated the boredom by playing with my testicles for a few minutes<br> - an activity at which you are no-doubt both familiar and highly adept.<br> The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later,<br> although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools -<br> such as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum. Two weeks later, my cable modem<br> had still not arrived. After 15 telephone calls over 4 weeks my modem<br> arrived... six weeks after I had requested it, and begun to pay for it.<br> I estimate your internet server's downtime is roughly 35%... hours<br> between about 6pm -midnight, Mon-Fri, and most of the weekend. I am<br> still waiting for my telephone connection. I have made 9 calls on my<br> mobile to your no-help line, and have been unhelpfully transferred to a<br> variety of disinterested individuals, who are it seems also highly<br> skilled bollock jugglers.</p> <p>I have been informed that a telephone line is available (and someone<br> will call me back); that no telephone line is available (and someone<br> will call me back); that I will be transferred to someone who knows<br> whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off);<br> that I will be transferred to someone (and then been redirected to an<br> answer machine informing me that your office is closed); that I will be<br> transferred to someone and then been redirected to the irritating<br> Scottish robot woman...and several other variations on this theme.<br> Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a<br> thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of<br> those crucially important testicle-moments to attend to. Frankly I don't<br> care, it's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustration's<br> in print than to shout them at your unending hold music. Forgive me,<br> therefore, if I continue.</p> <p>I thought BT were shit, that they had attained the holy piss-pot of god-<br> awful customer relations, that no-one, anywhere, ever, could be more<br> disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to<br> their customers. That's why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't<br> anyone else is there? How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered<br> to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless<br> shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of<br> distended rectum incompetents of the highest order.<br> British Telecom - wankers though they are - shine like brilliant beacons<br> of success, in the filthy puss-filled mire of your seemingly limitless<br> inadequacy. Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and<br> foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that<br> you cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for<br> the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to<br> deliver - any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and<br> disbelief quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps bemused<br> rage. I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my<br> cats litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for<br> both you and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have notbecome desiccated during transit - they were satisfyingly moist at the<br> time of posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did<br> not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them<br> the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and its worthless<br> employees.</p> <p>Have a nice day - may it be the last in you miserable short life, you<br> irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of t***s.<br> John</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/22/i_ve_been_away_so_to_amuse_you~1059137/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/22/i_ve_been_away_so_to_amuse_you~1059137/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/05/newsflash~1015306/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-08-05:/2006/08/05/newsflash~1015306/Sat, 05 Aug 2006 10:20:52 +0200 <p>Flood Warning!</p> <p>Liverpool Dressing Room flooded after a Mainz burst last night.</p> <p>(More to follow, soon, <u>hopefully</u>... starting with the next game)</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/05/newsflash~1015306/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>liverpool-fchttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/08/05/newsflash~1015306/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/30/this_past_few_weeks~999913/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-07-30:/2006/07/30/this_past_few_weeks~999913/Sun, 30 Jul 2006 12:05:56 +0200 <p>Guilty of not adding much lately. TBH I can't think of much - it must be the weather. </p> <p>The dog - bless her - has finished her season so we can move on. She also had an ear infection which we have cleared up so good news all round - back to the training lessons now!</p> <p>I've booked the trip to Green Bay to watch the mighty (well once, perhaps not now) Packers with my son - the lifelong ambition is about to be achieved come end of October. Cardinals v Packers at Lambeau Field. I had hoped to take in Brett Favre's last game (?), at home to The Vikings but Hotel availability is a bit limited come December.</p> <p>My Everton season tickets are on their way - can't wait - I am taking the old fella (or my son). Pre-season has been good so far - watch out for Victor Anichebe - a VERY big star in the making... </p> <p>Went to Salisbury races yesterday. Had a few winners but not enough to come out ahead - but it was a good day out.</p> <p>I am off to Brighton soon to play in the Summer (Bridge) Congress. I'll be staying at a mate's North of Brighton.</p> <p>The house will be going on the market soon - moving to Southport! The house there is having a new kitchen and new central heating installed.</p> <p>That's about it!</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/30/this_past_few_weeks~999913/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>green-bayevertonhttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/30/this_past_few_weeks~999913/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/12/shine_on_you_crazy_diamond~952693/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-07-12:/2006/07/12/shine_on_you_crazy_diamond~952693/Wed, 12 Jul 2006 02:46:24 +0200 <p>The world is a little emptier with the passing of Syd Barrett, founding member of Pink Floyd.</p> <p><a href="http://msnbc.msn.com/id/13819139/">http://msnbc.msn.com/id/13819139/</a></p> <p>Remember when you were young,<br> You shone like the sun<br> Shine on You Crazy Diamond...</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/12/shine_on_you_crazy_diamond~952693/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>syd-barrettpink-floydhttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/12/shine_on_you_crazy_diamond~952693/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/11/free_advice~951783/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-07-11:/2006/07/11/free_advice~951783/Tue, 11 Jul 2006 17:47:26 +0200 <p>A few weeks ago we came home only to find that son had put double lock on door - natch we hadn't got this key - so 2am access through downstairs loo window (break window, climb in - amateur burglary lesson is free). Here's the free advice:</p> <p>Cost of glass: £2.14 plus VAT (Quotation)<br> Fitting glass: £25 (if you can't do it yourself)</p> <p>Cost of calling out Glaziers: £30-35 (Total Quote £70)</p> <p>So, the free advice is - take screwdriver remove window and drive whole to town for replacement. So much for "free call out" as per the phone book. </p> <p>Daniel </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/11/free_advice~951783/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/11/free_advice~951783/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/10/do_they_listen~948575/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-07-10:/2006/07/10/do_they_listen~948575/Mon, 10 Jul 2006 13:39:11 +0200 <p>Son sends me text message re horses Saturday (he works in a bookmakers and picks up some inside track info). What do I think of x, y or z?</p> <p>So I reply - I prefer x, or I prefer another in this race. Now normally this will result in the obligatory "My pick is better than your pick" argument. So, advice sent no further information was exchanged - until Sunday afternoon when he suddenly announces he's off to collect his winnings. Seems he took my advice and had the majority of his money on 3 horses with some doubles.</p> <p>Resulted in an 8/1 and a 4/1 win single and double (one loser) - £16 laid £65 back. He's getting rather good at this lark!</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/10/do_they_listen~948575/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>horsesgamblinghttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/10/do_they_listen~948575/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/10/my_next_trip~948558/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-07-10:/2006/07/10/my_next_trip~948558/Mon, 10 Jul 2006 13:33:44 +0200 <p>Taking my son to Green Bay, Wisconsin to see The Green Bay Packers play The Arizona Cardinals. It's the culmination of 30 plus years wish to make this pilgrimage. </p> <p>The plan is to fly out from Manchester (via Dublin and Chicago) Sat 28th Oct for a week - taking in the match and a stay in Green Bay... Match tickets are nearly £100 each but I reckon the whole shooting match will cost nearly £2,000. </p> <p>Should be fun. (Hoping the October weather there isn't too bad) - anyone know?</p> <p>TD </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/10/my_next_trip~948558/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>green-bayhttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/10/my_next_trip~948558/#commentshttp://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/08/favourite_film~944705/tag:toffeedan.blog.co.uk,2006-07-08:/2006/07/08/favourite_film~944705/Sat, 08 Jul 2006 23:12:40 +0200 <p>Go on let's start a list!</p> <p>Here's my offering from different genres:</p> <p>Comedy: The Apartment (Jack Lemmon, all time favourite actor)</p> <p>Gangster: Goodfellas</p> <p>War: Paths of Glory</p> <p>Thriller: Se7en </p> <p>Here's some of my runners-up:</p> <p>DEFINED AS GREAT ENTERTAINMENT - OR A GREAT FILM - SOMETHING YOU COULD BARE TO WATCH AGAIN </p> <p>even though you know what's going to happen!</p> <p>no particular order, very much off the top of my head, so not inclusive:</p> <p>The Shawshank Redemption<br> Schindler's List<br> The Usual Suspects<br> Psycho<br> It's a Wonderful Life<br> Das Boot<br> The Night of the Hunter<br> The Third Man<br> The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind<br> Les Diaboliques (original)</p> <p>Your view? Your list (different subject?) </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/08/favourite_film~944705/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://toffeedan.blog.co.uk/2006/07/08/favourite_film~944705/#comments