Thursday, 17 April 2014
I’ve always had a slight problem with Superman. And this is despite me owning a Kneel Before Zod T-shirt and having a Fortress of Solitude in my back garden. This problem is twofold. Given all his super powers, he should be able to defeat any foe reasonably simply. He’s just too super, like an adult playing football with a group of toddlers. The only thing he’s not super at is being cool. Who wants to be Superman? He’s just bland and boring. No Hulk anger management issues, or Tony Stark quips from him. And that ridiculous outfit, what a dork. This is possibly why I have a Kneel Before Zod T-shirt. General Zod is the much more interesting character in Superman II. So I’m pleased to see that the general is back in Man of Steel, which I will be watching for the purposes of Delayed Movie Club right... now.
Wednesday, 9 April 2014
161 minutes? 161 minutes. Oh no, does that mean that I’m going to have to spend another half an hour watching short people singing and doing the washing up again? If that did happen again there would be more that just Smaug feeling desolate. Last year I tolerated The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey based on the goodwill generated from watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I’m risking Hobbit II, but if it has similar levels of overblown nothingness as the first one, I won’t be waiting for any giant eagles to come and deliver me to my destination. I’ll be taking pot shots at any oversized avian wildlife for not turning up sooner, before turning the gun on myself. I’m pressing play now...
Saturday, 5 April 2014
It is years since I last did a Twitwit. Which is amazing, because they mean I can easily up the post count on IJS without the bother of having to write anything. Since I last did a one a whole new journalistic discipline seems to have arisen where something happens and journalists on salaries trawl Twitter to report that someone in the public eye is sad that someone else in the public eye has died, or even someone not in the public eye is outraged about a thing a person has done. So sod it, I’m bringing Twitwit back. These Tweets have tickled whatever part of my anatomy my fancy is. I don’t know, I’m no doctor.
Thursday, 3 April 2014
It’s been a long time since a JotR has hit IJS, so here’s one FYI. During that time I’ve decided to stop writing in the third person in order to sound less deranged. I will however be employing acronyms frequently or ASAP or PDQ, depending on when I think of one. And what footballing japes have gone unreported since the last JotR? Lots, that’s what. Because as the calendar flips over to April, we are in what is officially termed the ‘business end’ of the season.
This section of the season brings a dramatic shift in the patterns of football watchers’ brains, many watchers being drama queens at the best of times. Like the arrival of a full moon can tip the behaviour of a local eccentric to a potential unprovoked murderer, the onset of the BE similarly limits the brain effectively processing football information rationally.
Tuesday, 1 April 2014
Wednesday, 12 March 2014
“Big old banana skin here, lads. Remember, history is littered with examples of fallers at the final hurdle. The pressure’s off – no actually, it’s entirely on you!” I would be a terrible coach of the Ireland rugby team. These would be completely the wrong things to say to the players as they warm up for the final Six Nations game against France. “It’s OK boys, we always win in Paris - if winning in Paris once in forty years is always winning!” Oops, I did it again. Someone get me out of the changing room before I go through all the Irish Six Nations failures since the mid-1980s (apart from that solitary one in 2009 – when Ireland didn’t play in Paris!).
Wednesday, 5 March 2014
Get lost Scotland. No, I don’t mean in September’s independence referendum, for I am in the Bowie camp in that opinion. I mean ruining what would otherwise be my 100% Six Nations prediction record with their last gasp drop goal win in Rome. And then, as if to rub it in, they celebrate like they’ve won the Grand Slam, completely giving the game away that the Scots themselves didn’t think they would beat Italy. Well I’m not having it. Mathematics, television, sports reporters and everything else might tell me that I’m wrong, but I’m telling you here, when a win for the winners is even a surprise to them, morally I still have a 100% record. When I’m in charge of everything, I will quietly amend those statistics accordingly*. But never mind that irrelevance, as ZZ Top said during the 1983 Five Nations, IT’S THE ELIMINATOR!