At last I’m starting to feel better. I’ve spent the last few days off work letting the anti bodies and the virus battle it out while I lay back and rest. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before but being sick can be extremely boring, you just lay there and wait to get better. Physically you’re restrained because you’ve as much strength as a new born baby and mentally you’re as fragile as the ol' lady in the queue at the Post Office. And when I thought I was getting better I attempted to string a few sentences together for a blog entry but all I could muster was illegible pulp so I gave up and carried on resting.
From my sickbed I had to witness England fail to qualify for the European Championships in 2008 by losing to Croatia. Mr McClaren may have finally been sacked but I don’t think he realises that he’s just helped push this country further towards a recession. No one is likely to spend much during the summer weeks that Euro ‘08 will be on. Where people would be out in the bars and pubs spending copious amounts of their disposable income on alcohol and food, now they’re likely to stay at home in a hump and not spend any money so less will be in circulation and instead be in bank accounts. The service sector is huge in the UK and they depended on Euro ‘08 to create this ‘feel good’ factor around the country which has hordes going into town to watch the game even though once you get inside a bar or pub it’s extremely crowded with a stench of man sweat circulating through the air and when someone scores a goal beer files ever where, usually landing on your hair and eyes. Only a ‘feel good’ factor could persuade people to endure this and actually think it’s a good idea. While being ill I listened to an economist who believed that the failure to qualify wouldn’t affect the economy at all. “People will find other ways to spend their money. They may go on holiday now.” Right, if they go on holiday it’s likely that it’ll be away from these rainy shores so their disposable income will be injected to another economy you daft person.
In business terms I reckon Umbro will finally be sold to Nike now. The US giant has been courting Umbro in recent months as a way to finally become England’s kit makers. The takeover hasn’t happened yet because if England would have qualified the shareholders would have been in a better bargaining position to up the price offered by Nike. The reason for this was because more England shirts would have been sold. Now they haven’t got anything to play with and will likely sell giving Nike easy access to make England’s kit once Umbro’s current deal expires.
It’s all misery here but there is some good that’s come out of not qualifying for the Championships. When England get knocked out in the quarter in finals at least there won’t be a drunken riot in the street where shop windows get smashed by alcohol fuelled skin heads singing ‘England till I die...” And innocent people aren’t set upon because they were apparently giving him ‘evils’.
Ah well, being half Peruvian I still got Peru to fall back on, who achieved an honourable draw with Brasil last Sunday in the World Cup Qualifiers. Sadly England has to wait until September 2008 for their first qualifying match.
Pants.
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“What are you chatting about Marla?” Spoke Charles, finally deciding to engage his wife in an argument.
“You’re an idiot! A fucking violent idiot, I’m just glad that you didn’t have a gun.”
Charles looked a her in an abhorrent way, and then carried on focussing on the road. If it wasn’t for her he never would have got involved with fire arms. He was content in exacting terror the old fashioned way, punching them about, maybe a baseball bat but never an instrument that could kill someone so instantly. Gregor had called round his house one evening, the pungent smell of whisky trailing him behind. He burst through when he opened the door and sat on the table waiting for Charles to join him. Charles couldn’t believe that someone would be so disrespectful as to barge past and sit down by the table in someone’s house without even being asked to come in, or even saying hello. But that was Gregor. Gregor beckoned him over with wave of the hand. Resentfully Charles sat down to see Gregor looking rather pensive, his eyes kept scuttling around looking for some unusual movement. When finally all was quiet apart from his heavy breathing Gregor engaged Charles.
“Been to the Ukraine.” He said.
Again he looked around and when nothing seemed out of the ordinary he started to zip down his coat.
“Sounds interesting, why go there?” Asked Charles half curious half startled that Gregor would go on holiday. Let alone a country that is freezing most of the year.
Sensing the hint of amusement growing on Charles’s face Gregor snarled and finished unzipping his coat and from inside produced a something wrapped in a brown cloth. Charles’s looked at the cloth lying on the table and wondered what it could be.
“Look at these.” Said Gregor now with amusement lighting up his face as he saw Charles’s face look stunned when he unravelled the cloth. There lay two Browning SFS 9mm pistols.
“Why did you bring these to my house?” Asked Charles feeling scared in the presence of the two SFS pistols. He looked at them but was reluctant to touch them. Gregor however wasn’t and grabbed one and started to point it around the room.
“Ahh shut up Charlie boy. No one is gonna a get shot. This will help us be more persuasive with our jobs. Go on pick it up.”
“We already are persuasive Gregor we always get what we want” Said Charles still looking at the pistol, not sure what to do.
“Wasn’t successful in robbing the bank was we? Didn’t even get to the bank.” He still hadn’t let it go.
“Besides I think we should enter a newer league with greater rewards but with that comes a greater risk of failure. Now pick it up.”
Charles grabbed the brown handle, it looked just like the guns they use of television but up close in reality he could see all the scratch marks. Near the tip looked like a tally chart of six lines. He thought the previous owner must have managed to have terminated six people before passing the gun on. He held it up and stared down the single barrel and saw Gregor’s beaming face at the end.
“Good, huh? They cost me three grand but I see it as investment. I could only get two, so one is for me and one is for you.
“I can’t use this. It’s too dangerous, it’s fucking heavy I bet if I took a shot it would throw me to the floor.” Replied Charles now holding the gun in the palm of his hand and examining the trigger. He didn’t like this idea at all. No way. Using fists and tools he was comfortable with and that was it.
From my sickbed I had to witness England fail to qualify for the European Championships in 2008 by losing to Croatia. Mr McClaren may have finally been sacked but I don’t think he realises that he’s just helped push this country further towards a recession. No one is likely to spend much during the summer weeks that Euro ‘08 will be on. Where people would be out in the bars and pubs spending copious amounts of their disposable income on alcohol and food, now they’re likely to stay at home in a hump and not spend any money so less will be in circulation and instead be in bank accounts. The service sector is huge in the UK and they depended on Euro ‘08 to create this ‘feel good’ factor around the country which has hordes going into town to watch the game even though once you get inside a bar or pub it’s extremely crowded with a stench of man sweat circulating through the air and when someone scores a goal beer files ever where, usually landing on your hair and eyes. Only a ‘feel good’ factor could persuade people to endure this and actually think it’s a good idea. While being ill I listened to an economist who believed that the failure to qualify wouldn’t affect the economy at all. “People will find other ways to spend their money. They may go on holiday now.” Right, if they go on holiday it’s likely that it’ll be away from these rainy shores so their disposable income will be injected to another economy you daft person.
In business terms I reckon Umbro will finally be sold to Nike now. The US giant has been courting Umbro in recent months as a way to finally become England’s kit makers. The takeover hasn’t happened yet because if England would have qualified the shareholders would have been in a better bargaining position to up the price offered by Nike. The reason for this was because more England shirts would have been sold. Now they haven’t got anything to play with and will likely sell giving Nike easy access to make England’s kit once Umbro’s current deal expires.
It’s all misery here but there is some good that’s come out of not qualifying for the Championships. When England get knocked out in the quarter in finals at least there won’t be a drunken riot in the street where shop windows get smashed by alcohol fuelled skin heads singing ‘England till I die...” And innocent people aren’t set upon because they were apparently giving him ‘evils’.
Ah well, being half Peruvian I still got Peru to fall back on, who achieved an honourable draw with Brasil last Sunday in the World Cup Qualifiers. Sadly England has to wait until September 2008 for their first qualifying match.
Pants.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
“What are you chatting about Marla?” Spoke Charles, finally deciding to engage his wife in an argument.
“You’re an idiot! A fucking violent idiot, I’m just glad that you didn’t have a gun.”
Charles looked a her in an abhorrent way, and then carried on focussing on the road. If it wasn’t for her he never would have got involved with fire arms. He was content in exacting terror the old fashioned way, punching them about, maybe a baseball bat but never an instrument that could kill someone so instantly. Gregor had called round his house one evening, the pungent smell of whisky trailing him behind. He burst through when he opened the door and sat on the table waiting for Charles to join him. Charles couldn’t believe that someone would be so disrespectful as to barge past and sit down by the table in someone’s house without even being asked to come in, or even saying hello. But that was Gregor. Gregor beckoned him over with wave of the hand. Resentfully Charles sat down to see Gregor looking rather pensive, his eyes kept scuttling around looking for some unusual movement. When finally all was quiet apart from his heavy breathing Gregor engaged Charles.
“Been to the Ukraine.” He said.
Again he looked around and when nothing seemed out of the ordinary he started to zip down his coat.
“Sounds interesting, why go there?” Asked Charles half curious half startled that Gregor would go on holiday. Let alone a country that is freezing most of the year.
Sensing the hint of amusement growing on Charles’s face Gregor snarled and finished unzipping his coat and from inside produced a something wrapped in a brown cloth. Charles’s looked at the cloth lying on the table and wondered what it could be.
“Look at these.” Said Gregor now with amusement lighting up his face as he saw Charles’s face look stunned when he unravelled the cloth. There lay two Browning SFS 9mm pistols.
“Why did you bring these to my house?” Asked Charles feeling scared in the presence of the two SFS pistols. He looked at them but was reluctant to touch them. Gregor however wasn’t and grabbed one and started to point it around the room.
“Ahh shut up Charlie boy. No one is gonna a get shot. This will help us be more persuasive with our jobs. Go on pick it up.”
“We already are persuasive Gregor we always get what we want” Said Charles still looking at the pistol, not sure what to do.
“Wasn’t successful in robbing the bank was we? Didn’t even get to the bank.” He still hadn’t let it go.
“Besides I think we should enter a newer league with greater rewards but with that comes a greater risk of failure. Now pick it up.”
Charles grabbed the brown handle, it looked just like the guns they use of television but up close in reality he could see all the scratch marks. Near the tip looked like a tally chart of six lines. He thought the previous owner must have managed to have terminated six people before passing the gun on. He held it up and stared down the single barrel and saw Gregor’s beaming face at the end.
“Good, huh? They cost me three grand but I see it as investment. I could only get two, so one is for me and one is for you.
“I can’t use this. It’s too dangerous, it’s fucking heavy I bet if I took a shot it would throw me to the floor.” Replied Charles now holding the gun in the palm of his hand and examining the trigger. He didn’t like this idea at all. No way. Using fists and tools he was comfortable with and that was it.
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