Howmanheyman

Must've missed this. He's still busy on the Twitter so it must've been this place that he'd had enough of.

An old workmate of mine who was a character in his own right, told me about being in Cork, (IIRC?') and cracking on with a lercal taxi driver whose patter by the sound of it was similar to my old work pal. Anyhow, he gets talking about Roy Keane's father who was known to the local taxi drivers for being a bit of a blaggart when he was full of peeve. One day, the taxi driver picks Keane's Dad up and he's obviously had a few and full of it. "Do you know who my son is?" He says. The driver says to my mate that he didn't let on he knew. "Go ahead, I don't know who your son is." Pissed Keane senior replies, "I'll give you a clue, he's Ireland's and Manchester United's greatest ever captain. There you go!" The taxi driver looks in the mirror deadpan and says, "fuck me! You big Paul McGrath's dad?" Keane senior took it well, "fucking Paul McGrath? I'm Roy Keane's Dad! Fucking Paul McGrath?" Might've just been a tale for a tourist but it made my pal laugh.

We used to have a poster called Paddington who came from Peru. Bit of a hairy cunt IIRC? You'll get it if he reads any anti Peruvian posts I tells ya! Two things stick out about McGrath for me. One, a canny anecdote from an old workmate, 'a mag at work' I suppose. Two, 'big Ron' getting serenaded at SJP after the fifth goal had flew in with 'where's your drunken centre half?' as McGrath had allegedly blew the game on account of still being pissed the day of the game.

No, Geordie.

You're Nicholas Witchell aren't you?

That doesn't work Ken, otherwise I'd be a big Hong Kong fan.

Who watches these shit reality shows, man?

Never heard of them, Weinstein or Louis CK.

Apart from Brexit he may also have had a part to do with the reason for the Iraq war and bunged the conservative party with 17m quid. Hard to believe this is true tbh but have a look anyway...... http://truepublica.org.uk/united-kingdom/david-camerons-secret-nuclear-weapons-deal-raised-17-8m-for-conservative-party-funds-sets-pretext-for-war/

See, even then, a young future pimms drinking shithouse was noting the fundamental flaws in the film and memorising them for the yet to be invented medium of internet forums where he would dissect those flaws in front of a captivated audience of philistines who just would not see the inherent moodmusic of the marvel films by comparison.

My first football memory I think is watching some of the Man City v Spurs cup final where I remember my Dad getting a bit excited when Ricky Villa scored that goal where he beat a few defenders then after that it was Espana 82 where the main memory is playing football in the 'Rec' than getting called in for our tea and sitting down to watch a game.* The England v France game sticks out for some reason but the rest is sketchy even though I remember them when seeing them as 'clips'. We were all Zico, Socrates and loved Brazil but thought of the likes of Rummenigge and Rossi as clinical masters of their art. Mexico 86 I remember crystal clear and alongside Italia 90 these 3 World cups are head and shoulders above the rest for me. The very first game I watched 'live' was some kind of testimonial/friendly game between Liverpool v Man U at Windsor Park. Me and my Dad were neutrals although I cheered on Liverpool for the sake of my uncle and cousins who were Liverpool fans, My Granda was a Glens fan who went to the odd Rangers game when he was younger. Anyway, remember celebrating when Liverpool went (I think) 2-0 up only for Man U to come back and get a winner as we were leaving, this was about a week before the 83-84 season and the likes of Dalglish, Souness, Rush etc would've been playing and Robson, Whiteside etc for Man U. What the game showed me was that terraces and celebrating goals etc was definitely for me and I'd already been hankering at my Dad to take me to a game but he wasn't that arsed on football despite going to the odd game as a bairn when we won cups, (he basically had itchy feet and joined the army for 12 years as his first choice the RN knocked him back as his education was wagging school, hitch hiking to London, playing in parks etc). Anyway, a week or two after my first live game in Belfast we were back home and played Shrewsbury a week or so after beating Leeds at Elland Road in the 1st game of the season. Obviously, I hadn't heard of Shrewsbury and obviously we got beat, (0-1). The crowd got agitated near the end and sung 'Imre' to the tune of 'here we go' as we weren't happy we'd sold Varadi. This was the only game I got to see KK in the flesh as a player as it was heaving in the Gallowgate and my old man worried about me getting squashed, (it didn't bother me at all!) Seeing the green grass as I climbed to the top of the concrete gallowgate steps either side of the grass banks and passing the concrete wall with 'Toilet' helpfully written on it by the club, I fell in love going to the match, hearing the craic of the older blokes, smelling the beer on their breaths and the hops wafting over from one of my future employers, Newcastle Breweries, the farting, the laughter, the 'dorty bastaad' comments and suchlike, an absolute mile away from being at todays games. When you think about it, I'm as far away from those days now as my Dad would've been from the days of Milburn but I'd imagine the period of the early 80s being more similar to my Dad's day than to todays experience. *The other time we'd eventually finish playing was when the walking zombies known as the 'glueys' would gather in the rec to sniff their bags of glue.

He trudged, I squelched.

My first every memory was sitting in Gallowgate Stand watching Jackie Milburn score against Puskas Hungary side as we won the European Fairs cup winners cup 3-0.

What's gannin' on here, like?

I'd just assumed he was a Mackem by his gormless look, attire and FTM he has across his gear.

Lizzie a wrong withdrawal away from trickling down the Queen mother's thigh many years ago. Gawd bless Bertie's aim that day!

Her Majesty, the Queen of the spunk that safely made it from Bertie's sack to the Queen Mother's egg, also has investments in Brighthouse who aren't shy in giving the poor a TV or washing machine on the very expensive never-never. Gawd bless 'em.* *Including poor William who's letting on there's too many people on the planet despite him getting his lass up the stick again. (She just has to lie back and think of England, surely?)