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.
KATIA IVANOVA
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.
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