"Your Home is a Dump"

The girlfriend of the footballer Andrey Arshavin has been reported as saying she hates London because it is dirty and the woman are scruffy. She might have a point about it being a bit on the grubby side, but who judges a place on how its people are dressed? Are you going to dismiss a place brimming with culture and history because its citizens haven't all had manicures?

If a British person went to another city and made similar comments, it would spark a diplomatic incident and within a few days, they would be apologising and back peddling.

But it is perfectly acceptable for people to insult London.

A lot of British people do it too. Every time I go back up north, someone will tell me that they don't know how I can live in London/they hate London/London is too crowded/London is too expensive. Its so rude.

Imagine their response if I replied by saying how much I hated the town where they lived. I'd probably be punched. But it is fine for everyone to insult the place where I live.

Yes, it is expensive, but so are all capital cities, and so is Newcastle if you only ever go out on the Quayside.

And the transport system isn't very good, but it is just a means to an end. We don't choose to live in London because of the tube, unless of course, you work for Transport for London.

Vive España (Part 1)

I was incredibly pleased by Spain's Euro win last night.

I had declared my intention to support Spain before the tournament even began, but I didn't really expect them to win it. I'd picked them mainly because they are usually under-achievers. The OH at the same time had backed Germany, quoting one of his father's favourite mottos of "Never bet against the Germans".

So we had "our" final. And "my" team won!

I must say I've enjoyed this tournament more than any since Euro 96. It was better without England and I think I might stick with Spain from now on.

Cheapskate

I read in the newspaper yesterday about the engagement ring the footballer Joe Cole bought for his fiancee. It cost £50k.

My first thought was that was an obscene amount of money to spend on a ring.

My second thought was that he was a miser.

The reason? The article mentioned that his weekly wage is £80k. Traditionally, a man should spend the equal to a month's salary on the ring. I don't know if this is before or after tax and NI contributions as the OH has asked me before, but either way Mr Cole's spending falls well below that amount.

Over-paid, over-pampered morons

Today, I hear on the radio that a Liverpool player, who hasn't played much this season and wants to leave, has described his time at the club as being a slave.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought slaves were taken from their home against their will, sold into miserable lives where they worked long hours, for no money at all and treated no better than animals.

Unless Liverpool have radically changed their players' pay structure, I'm sure he isn't working for free and that he isn't being kept chained up when he's not playing. In fact, I'm sure he has quite an enviable life compared with many people in the world.

I used to like football a lot more than I do now and I think the reason I've gone off it is largely down attitudes like this from players who are so out of touch with real life that it is often offensive.

La vida loca

Not how I would normally spend my time, but on Sunday evening we went to watch , El Superclásico, which you probably don’t know (I didn’t until yesterday) is the local derby game between two Buenos Aires football teams, Boca Juniors and River Plate.

Obviously, the OH will watch anything sport related but the reason I went along was because we were meeting up with Red Malc and his girlfriend Lara, who is from Argentina. It was a great night out – good company and one of those times that makes you glad you live in London. (I can’t imagine there being a very big Argentinean community in my hometown, where you are treated with suspicion if you come from the next town along).

The screening was in Zoo, a bar/club thing off Leicester Square, which isn’t the sort of place I’d normally frequent (they are the place offering the new style karaoke in front of live band). The atmosphere was brilliant – mainly people from Buenos Aires, with a few other South Americans and a few British people as well. There was lots of good natured singing of football songs which Lara kindly translated for me as my Spanish isn’t up to much.

At half-time there was a disco of Argentinean pop classics – a dubious selection the highlight of which was a reggae version of ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’. The DJ was apparently a member of Argentina’s mafia, known as the ‘El Gordo’ who as well as DJ-ing runs a market selling Argentinean produce, not usually available in the UK – bizarrely one of the best selling products is Hellman’s mayonnaise which people are convinced doesn’t taste the same here so there is a large market for importing it from Argentina!

Before last night, I had no allegiance to either side but since Lara is a Boca supporter, it seemed polite to cheer on her side who also seemed to have the most support in the room. Our friend Marc for some unknown reason decided he would support River Plate. Later, I asked Lara what dictated who you supported back in Buenos Aires – in her case it was because that was who her family had always supported, but generally Boca are the team of the poor, in Lara’s words ‘from south of the river, where it smells!’ whilst River Plate are the team of the rich. So I think I would have picked Boca too anyway.

The game got off to a very exciting start (although rather later than expected) with a goal in the first few minutes from Boca, but it ended 1-1. Whilst I won’t be hunting down every screening from their league, I will keep an eye on the progress of my new found team.

Yesterday

There was a woman in the pub with learning difficulties. During the game, she cheered and shook an England rattle.

At the end of the game, she was sad and the rattle lay disgarded on the floor.

This is all I'm saying about the football.

Multi-Tasking for England

I opted to stay in and watch the football on my own rather than go the pub. I've interspersed watching the match with figuring out how to edit our new work website (which had annoyed me in the office but seems simpler from home) and painting my toenails. Multi-tasking for England.

I am also drinking a can of red wine! Yes, a can of red wine - it doesn't get much classier than that. Its left over from the Shakespeare picnic the other week - I do normally buy bottles.

So far the worst bit of commentary has been:

"Theo Wallcott - he's got a provisional driving licence"

Tales from the World Cup

I must admit I'm actually quite enjoying the World Cup. Not for England's games, but seeing other teams who can actually pass the football, and the crazy stories connected to the tournament.

So far, these have included the obligatory story about monks wanting to watch the game, questions about the sexuality of the mascot Goalio the lion and the Croatian team going to watch Deep Purple in concert to relax them.

But my favourite was a story from Bulgaria where prisoners serving life sentences have sewn their mouths up in protest at not being allowed to watch the World Cup. What makes this story even better though as that Bulgaria aren't even in the competition and that they have left a small gap at the side of their mouths so they can still smoke! A well-thought out plan obviously.

The World Cup - Some Thoughts

On my way to the pool this morning, a 'patriot' with flag on their car drove past me and I thought that after yesterday's lack lustre performance, I wouldn't be so keen to wave the flag this morning. As my friend Colin would say 'The result is everything' but really I didn't see anything to be proud of in yesterday's match. Whereas, supporters of Trinidad & Tobago and the Ivory Coast can hold their heads up higher today because even though neither team actually won, they played their hearts out.

We also had the misfortune to watch 'Rio's World Cup Wind-Ups'. I just wanted to see a bit of it, to see how bad it was, but ended up watching it all to see if any of them actually worked. Rio is no Jeremey Beadle - most of his 'victims' seemed pretty unfazed by the stunts - either too stupid to understand what was going on or so arrogant/rich that not much actually matters to them. Peter Crouch was a genius though - his overly complicated set-up (clearly an idea Rio had for a film) involved a dwarf, mafia and a phallic-shaped property development - but Crouch took his in his considerable stride and when things got heavy, he simply said 'I'm just here to look at a penis shaped apartment. The only person who came out of his looking bad was Rio. His catchphrase of "You've been merked" didn't help - I've no idea if I've spelt this right as I'd never heard this word before last night. If anyone knows, please let me know.

I'm wondering if I can uninstall ITV from our television in case we are ever tempted to watch anything on there again. I'm certain it killed more brain cells than any years of substance abuse could.

Dark Horse

I have drawn the Czech Republic in the office World Cup sweepstake. This apparently isn't so bad, according to the Present Incumbent, as they are the dark horse of the tournament. The Accounts Department have Brazil and Argentina between them which seems a bit unfair.