Wednesday 14 October 2009
The morning is even darker today. This serves nobody.
I leave Bohemian Grove slightly late today and as I pass through and out of my car park The Ghost is there with his dog. As ever he looks barely alive.
Yet again I find myself driving to the station with much aggression and hostility. Yikes was I always this bad behind the wheel?
An amazing looking Japanese lady is sitting in my seat this morning. As a result I am breath taken and do not resent her the seat as I sit opposite and suppress the urge to be drawn. It is strange however that by the end of the journey my attraction to/for her has ceased. Go figure. Perhaps it is due to the number of times she interrogates her National Express route planner suggesting impatience and neurosis.
The train pulls into Liverpool Street at 8.05AM. Rubbish.
Today Lookalike Poker aptly sees a rubbish Lady Gaga on the tube.
When I get to work it all turns out to be a so so day plugging away at the September accounts as I near the finish of both them and my week. By the end of the day once more I have made great strides and progress and feel I can head home happy. Surprisingly management hasn’t approached me once for them yet so due to the lack of pressure and hassle their compilation has been fairly a breeze.
At some point in proceedings I find myself singing/demonstrating “Eating Your Brains” by The Blitters to my work colleagues who think I am a worrying combination of funny and weird.
Elsewhere today music comes through that Leona Lewis has been slapped by a punter at a book signing. Obviously he appreciates good music. Later rumour comes through (via David Schneider) that the slapper was the head of literature at Oxford University. That would make sense.
Tonight it is England v Belarus on ITV. Now that we have qualified there is little point to this game, we are just playing out the fixtures while Belarus make up the numbers. I remember the days when we would have beaten times like this 8-0 without even trying.
The team Capello puts out tonight is an uninspired one. Upfront with Crouch is Agbonlahor who is a player I have never heard of. Should I have? That’s not an English name.
Early on England score. It is a scrappy goal that Crouch’s physical presence scuffs in. The awful ITV commentators comment that it was a great finish but after the ball takes an eternity to slope over the line it is a goal that can hardly be described as predatory. When they show the goal on a replay it looks as if the defender got as much of the ball as Crouch did and I begin pronouncing it as an own goal on Facebook to anybody that will listen to me.
Not long afterwards I find myself falling asleep in the first half. As a result I miss Beckham coming on as a substitute with facial hair looking like a cross between Amish and the weird guy from The Burbs.
Later Wright-Phillips adds a second in the 59th minute while Crouch adds a third (and maybe a personal second) in the 76th minute seeing the game end at an unconvincing 3-0 to England.
Afterwards I soon pass out, failing to watch the episode of Generation Kill that Channel Four is showing in the process.