Alreeet then.  doff my hat to united for the very nice (for them) 7-1 against AS Roma.  It's a very high score but some facts still remain:  Rooney is a brickfaced thug, Ronaldo is a hairdresser and Fergie is Scottish   ....having said that I'm still a big fan of good old Scholes, even though he's a ginger...and united are probably playing the most attractive football in the premiership this season.

 

More importantly though, in the non-league  -where real mean play real football for an honest wage and then share a pint with the fans-  Halifax Town put in a redeeming effort against Aldershot, bagging 3 points in a 2-nil Saturday match.  Our kid Andy Campbell having a good goal to kick things off.  Puts us 18th or 19th in the table and free from the drop, for now.  

 

Fighting against relegation is almost as exciting as the promotion battle.  I pity the perennial mid-tablers.  The ones forever safe in 7-12th place.  Or worse, I feel sorry for the United fans (being a former one myself) who have nothing to look forward to.  Knowing that eventually the rot will set in, Fergie will die or Glazer will move the team to Miami. :-P

 

 

Up the Town!  Up proper football!

 

 

 

I've become disillusioned with blogging.  The name itself is enough to make a person renounce computers, and swap the poindexter slop of technology for the pool hall and getting beat up by thugs in the street.  Maybe it sucks, but it's real, tangible.

 

But it's been the same old same old for the past while so there weren't much point in posting anything.  Car troubles, war troubles, girl troubles and the ever rising price of milk as Town manage slip further and further over the brink.  Greed has slowly been killing the one truly important thing to me, that was purely emotional recreation.  No practical purpose outside of entertainment and sense of identity - which is rather practical now that i think of it.

 

So greed is right up there on my hit list of things I can't abide, right along side girls with farmer hands and foppish boyfriends, australian cricketers, loud people, and hoighty-toighty fashion.  If I ever hear anyone wax poetic about the greatness of  fashion again I'll chuck it all in and walk  around naked.  Though I agree fashion (erm, clothing anyway) is an art unto itself, so is everything.  And I sure as heck don't get dewy-eyed and spastic when I see a Rembrandt, so I'm hardly going to flip out over the self-contratulatory clumps of linen by pupils of extravagant burgois.

 

Fashion - as opposed to honest art or design in clothes - is, after all, for limp wristed boys who can't get proper jobs in factories, and girls who don't know how to paint.

 

And Ricky Ponting: I hope a dingo eats you.