Sunday 3 January 2010
Pleasant dreams get distracted this morning at 5.30AM as my annoying neighbour keeps slamming her door. I swear these are the heaviest footed people in history as they stomp up and down the stairs. What on earth are they doing up at this time on a Sunday? No good no doubt.
Eventually I reawaken just after 9.30AM still feeling tired disappointed how my fucking poxy neighbours appear to have wrecked and ruined the final day of my Christmas holidays. That fucking bitch.
I spend the early part of the morning putting blog stuff up online while in the background the first episode of The Big Questions of the year plays out moronically in the background when as ever one of the three questions relates to some ridiculous Muslim issue. Christmas is officially over.
With my latest postings up online I resume writing around 11AM managing to get a fair amount of stuff done as I hope (but sadly fail) to recapture the momentum of last night.
Around 1PM football begins on ITV with Leeds playing at Manchester United in the FA Cup. The game starts off well with plenty of noise and atmosphere coming from Old Trafford.
I hate to admit it but when Jermaine Beckford gives Leeds the lead in the 19th minute I get goosebumps. I can’t help but think back to the 2004 FA Cup final when Millwall rolled over died to Manchester United and now, displaying the kind of fight today that Millwall displayed at Elland Road in the play offs last year, Leeds are displaying the kind of fight you would have hoped Millwall would have displayed in the FA Cup final five and a half years ago (does that make sense or have I lost you?)
Personally I can’t stand Leeds. Because of their history they are a trumped up football club, one living off a reputation built on actions, incidents and achievements long in the past. To a mutual it’s a tough sell.
For the remainder of the first half Leeds more than hold their own as things begin to get scrappy. The hard motif of the game continues into the second half as Wes Brown gets a bit snappy as Beckford as ever decides to get involved in the huddle.
The second half proves equally as exciting with Leeds possibly even adding a second and a third, not least when they hit the Manchester United crossbar from a freekick. When they eventually earn their 1-0 victory it is a genuinely great feat, even more satisfying considering that their only league defeat this season was inflicted at the hands of Millwall.
After this I head to the olds for Sunday lunch as per routine. Once there I can’t help but gloat at the old man with him being a Manchester United supporter.
The second game on TV today is West Ham v Arsenal, talk about have a day of showing Millwall’s rivals. It actually turns out to be another pretty good game as West Ham lead 1-0 for the majority of the game before fucking it all up and losing 2-1 late on. Afterwards the draw for the fourth round is conducted by Paul Elliott and Frank Skinner. Now there is a real meeting of the minds. Why am I being so cynical today?
Before heading home I watch Harry Hill with the parents and dad as ever insists that the guy is as funny as a toothache. He loves the show really but naturally though he is providing equilibrium, a balance against mum’s loud guffaws.
From here I head home to watch The Simpsons movie they are showing on Channel Four. This film has always haunted me as it reminds me of the awkward Saturday morning spent hanging around Zoe’s when I bought it for her as a present while I did the Saturday newspaper run (complete with treats) at the Manor House Sainsburys. It pains.
Tonight begins the final Celebrity Big Brother on Channel Four. It would appear in the run and build up that the tabloids have revealed the names of all the “celebrities” entering the house but as they bowl into the house it is no less fun.
First up is Stephen Baldwin who has long since made a decent film, if ever. Right now as his brother Alec owns comedy with 30 Rock you get the impression that Stephen is somewhat Glenn Beck lite and an embarrassment to the Baldwin name. This point appears to get reiterated as he can’t even get through the door upon entering the house.
Next is a big pair of tits that I have never heard of in my life. Immediately jokes occur as to her being a distant relative of Mr T but she ain’t that cool, you can tell immediately. Apparently she is a WAG to some third tier footballer. That does not count.
Entering third is that guy who cage fights, fucked Jordan and sometimes dresses up in women’s clothing. Yes, it is Adrian Street. I know nothing about this guy I have only heard/read the stories. Already it doesn’t look good.
This is perhaps the housemate (most of who have already been revealed in the newspapers) that I am most excited about seeing. Dare I admit when she was in Coronation Street recently I fancied her. I am so wrong.
Lady Sovereign bounds in next as this year’s NME act housemate (following such names in the past as that dude from The Ordinary Boys and that dude from the Towers Of London). I actually saw Lady Sovereign live once supporting The Go! Team and she could definitely spit.
Doing his one song, his one hit, his one wonder Sisqo enters the house oh too easy to please. This guy must feel that Christmas has come twice as he gets a second chance/opportunity at snatching a career. His entrance is a farce, doing a bit of the “Thong Song” predictably. He is this year’s Coolio.
Yay, all freshly bashed up from a pasting at the hands of Alex Reid (apparently), this guy enters the house with everyone watching hoping for fireworks, hoping for a fight. To his credit he doesn’t big it up and to his discredit almost immediately upon seeing Reid they embrace like mates. What bunch of fanny.
Following comes Heidi Fleiss who is a person I doubt has any profile in this country whatsoever. I bought the Nick Broomfield documentary about her in Fopp for £3 last year but the sound on it was fucked so I don’t know as much about her as I would like. What I do know is that she looks rough, a proper state. She could have at least dressed up and not looked like a bag lady. I seem to remember her looking hot in the past but now she just resembles Joan Jett crossed with Pete Burns (those horrible fucking lips!). I once saw a TV movie about her in the early hours of a Saturday night/Sunday morning and Meadow Soprano (Jamie-Lynn Sigler) was playing her. That doesn’t go.
Also all too eager to please comes some Scandinavian dude that claims to be Basshunter. It had actually heard his songs before but until tonight I hadn’t realized it. What a stupid fucking name he has.
Jailbait enters the house in the form of that kid Ronnie Wood was fucking, that girl a third of his age. She just looks vacant and clueless. Move on.
Finally entering the house is Vinnie Jones who strangely looks cool as fuck, far better than by rights he should be. With his little pre-interview he comes over as well rounded and good to go. I think we have just seen the winner.
With all the housemates in immediately they begin acting horribly friendly, so fake and false caked in caution and disingenuous manners.
Before anyone knows it a task has been set as they are all ordered to squeeze into a Mini in order to all get beds or something. Surprisingly and in the worst way impressive they manage it, all fitting into the tiny car. What is it about this group of individuals that already makes me want them to fail?
Soon CBB ends only to be replaced by Rude Tube and the horribly smug Alex Zane whose looks like somebody in A&R I used to know called Tom.
Eventually I slip out of this television misery and comfortably into slumber.