A royal appointment and a contract extension nobody asked for.

“So awful that it is physically painful to sit through.” Not my words. The words of Sean O’Grady writing in The Independent. You may think he was describing the recent Brentford – Middlesbrough game or looking through the #frankout twitter feed. But no, worse than that. The Mrs. Browns Boys 2018 and 2019 Christmas specials. Please note: your definition of the word ‘special’ may vary. Now 2020 has given us the ultimate kick in the nuts. Bad enough that Corona virus will see us once more locked out of Lionel Road for the visits of Reading and Newcastle United (at the very least), Thursday saw even worse news when it was revealed everybody’s favourite mammy has been given a huge contract extension until 2026. Now, it seems, Mr O’Grady’s torment is to continue every year until well into the next decade as, Mrs. Browns Boys, this most awful of shows will run and run.

This latest crime agasint comedy, which broke in The Independent yesterday lunchtime, saw Brendan O’Carroll quoted as saying… “We’ve been doing it for nine years already — which is six more than The Royle Family had and more than Morecambe and Wise”. He added… “I wanted that because if it’s not good enough for Christmas Day, then we shouldn’t be making it”. You can read the whole horror story in the Independent online.

Where do you even start? Brown’s not fit to wipe Jim Royle’s arse. As for putting himself in the same bracket as Morecambe and Wise, that’s on a par with Harlee Dean saying “We’ve got quality in that squad. I’ve been in teams where we’ve finished fifth in this league and missed out on promotion by play offs. and this squad is ten times better than that.”

If its not good enough for Christmas Day??? Its not good enough for ANY day!! This tedious opium for the confused. This one joke routine – wig/cardigan/potty mouth  – repeated again and again and again. An alleged comedy which serves no better purpose than to plug unplanned gaps in the schedule. We’ve said it before and we’ll say it again. What dirt MUST O’Carroll have on the BBC to justify our licence feed being chucked at this year on year on year? How is it still going? Like a cockroach, the show would be the only thing to survive a nuclear war. And we’ve said that before, too, but if he can repeat his joke then appreciate the irony of us doing the same.  

Cripes we really must have been misbehaving this year to have that inflicted upon us. Talk about getting on Santa’s naughty list. There was me hoping for some Brentford training gear (if you are reading Kitman Bob….). Instead, we’ve had this thrust upon us. 

All of which neatly ignores the fact we have’t discussed midweek on these pages as yet. Brentford got the draw at Watford. Ivan Toney scored another ice cool penalty in a 1-1 marred by the somewhat dubious red card confusion which, eventually, saw Ethan Pinnock dismissed. Notes and thoughts on that one are in the matchday programme – either Reading or Newcastle United. I honestly forget which – they come thick and fast at this time of year but there’s been a lot of 11th hour scribbling.

Now, we have Reading this weekend. One point and one place above the sixth placed Bees. The top of the table in both teams’ sight. Brentford unbeaten in 12 games. Ivan Toney clear of Adam Armstrong at the top of the goalscoring charts. Yet when things couldn’t get worse than Mrs Brown, they have.

Keith Stroud is our referee. You know, the one man we don’t want to receive a card from at this time of year. Rico Henry in particular, even if that one was eventually rescinded.   

Much like Mrs Brown at a variety show, this is a royal appointment nobody needed.

Keith Stroud…..shudders

Nick Bruzon

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Monsieur Lamouchi’s Boys do what they need. Ref loses cards and watch.

That was awful. Horrific. A brutal assault on the senses that despite there being, technically, a winner nobody could honestly admit to taking any pleasure from. The crowd favourite somehow pushed into second place. But enough about Mrs. Brown’s Boys beating Fleabag to the best comedy award in last night’s National Television Awards. At Griffin Park, Brentford went down 0-1 to Nottingham Forest in a game that made Brendan O’Carroll’s alter-ego seem like the height of cultural sophistication. The only consolation to be taken was the confirmation at full time that West Bromwich Albion had continued their awful form as they lost to Cardiff City. Even Leeds United picked up 3 points (not a typo) although had to come from 0-2 down at home to Millwall. 

How could this happen?

Just like at the NTA ceremony, there was nobody laughing at Griffin Park. A game of few chances saw the visitors bludgeon us into submission with all the subtlety of a man in a wig and cardigan masquerading as an alleged popular Irish mammy. With Nottingham Forest time wasting and fouling from the off, referee Tim Robinson needed to get a grip on things immediately. It was something he failed spectacularly to do. Assisted by fourth official Keith Stroud and two linesmen who may aswell have not been there, Sabri Lamouchi’s boys were allowed to run riot – and they did. Why not? We’d have done the same. Play the conditions. If the referee has left his cards, glasses and watch at home then you’d be a fool to ignore that.

That’s not to be overly sour, although obviously it will come over that way should any away fans stumble across this page. Brentford were well, well below their best. It’s been a long time since we’ve been up against such stern opposition and, sadly, we couldn’t find a way through. Forest pressed tight and were quick on the break. Any attempt at creativity was snuffed out before it could begin. The Bees looking off the pace and stifled for huge swathes of this game, unable to adjust to the situation.

A rare moment of space under the lights

In a game of few chances, the only goal came early. Joe Lolley left unmarked on the edge of the box and his weak shot from a corner took a wicked deflection off of Julian Jeanvier to loop past David Raya. Urghh. Less than a quarter hour gone and on the back foot. The clock already being run down with Forest goalkeeper Brice Samba soon booked for time wasting. Mr. Robinson then appearing to lose his cards as Brentford were given no protection or help. Left to fend for ourselves, we couldn’t cope. As one Braemar Road observer would later put it, Sammy Ameobi on Rico Henry was like watching Mick Fleetwood and Samantha Fox at the Brit Awards. Now that, unlike O’Carroll and his brood, WAS comedy. Albeit of the unintentional variety.

Being quite honest, the six point nature of the game didn’t even cross my mind once proceedings had got under way. It was just another match and one in which, sadly, we fluffed our lines after having the usual script ripped up. If only Mrs. Brown could do the same. Forest did exactly what they needed to and so took the points. That’s how football works. They are the ones now sitting just two points behind West Bromwich Albion. We’re the team in fifth. All the looking at the table and gnashing of teeth isn’t going to change that today. All the frustration at the officials just  wasted energy that can never be claimed back. 

Peter Gilham’s subtle as a brick announcements towards the end of the game telling us all we needed to know. “The referee has indicated there will be just three minutes of additional time. Just three minutes” and deep into the 93rd, ”A substitution for Nottingham Forest”. It felt like even he’d had enough, with all his customary courtesy and enthusiasm long out of the window. Even the emphasis on “Thank you for your TIME” as the crowd was announced saying more than any match report could.

The referee and his assistant ignored all reminders of both the rules and timekeeping

Just about the only positives to be taken are another defeat for West Brom and more of that Leeds United leaky defence. That said, even they had the temerity to regain top spot after that comeback at home to Millwall and are surely, now, over their huge wobble. Surely?

Thomas Frank summed it up nicely at full time, using his interview to note that “From minute one you could see they wanted to make it a slow and scrappy game..we didn’t handle that well enough today.” HB in the Braemar Road cutting to the chase almost as eloquently…. 

He’s already watched far too much football for a six year old..

There’s nothing else to say this morning. Well done Nottingham Forest, I suppose. They took the points and rightly celebrated. The important thing being what we learn from this and where we go from here. Hull City being the obvious answer. A televised clash on Saturday lunchtime being the next test for Team Thomas. 

Let’s hope the Tigers prove to be bigger Fleabags than Monsieur Lamouchi’s Boys. I could do without another unpopular victory. Until then, here’s the ‘highlights’..

Nick Bruzon

Mrs. Brown, Nick Knowles, Mick Hucknall – irrelevant. Bigger things are afoot.

Brentford go to Millwall today. Nothing else matters. Nothing else is relevant. Not even Leeds United at Birmingham City or West Bromwich Albion hosting Middlesbrough. It would be nice if one of those slipped up but, in the grand scheme, the absolute priority has to be The Bees picking up the points against The Lions. Everything else going on around us is second fiddle. Unnecessary white noise.

Moaning about VAR (although it is shite) – irrelevant

Mick Hucknall – irrelevant.

Getting upset about Mrs. Browns Boys  – irrelevant (for one day only).

Mrs. Brown – irrelevant

Nick Knowles advertising the Euronics Centre on the radio – odd. And irrelevant.

Gavin and Stacey – irrelevant.

The sales – irrelevant. Just do it online as you travel. Or better still, don’t.

Fantasy Football – irrelevant (and that’s nothing to do with yesterday’s latest car crash).

Thoughts of ‘Dry January’ – irrelevant. It’s December.

Work tomorrow – irrelevant. Ring in sick. Or book it off.

The in-laws are here / we’re going to see the relatives – irrelevant. Bring them with you.

I can’t get a ticket – irrelevant. You can.  “Supporters will be able to pay by cash or card at the North Stand Ticket Office situated next to the away turnstiles on Sunday” –  Not my words, the words of Brentford official on their match preview) .

Even better, Millwall offer wheelchair users an entire £1 discount off the £29 admission price.

Here you go

£29 seems a lot to go to Millwall – irrelevant. It’s still not Leeds United levels of ouch, you save money on travel and there is the added bonus that these days The Lions play in the former home of Harchester United. What greater cathedral of football is there? Griffin Park aside.

I‘m half-way through the Lego Millennium Falcon I got for Christmas  – irrelevant. Grow up.

Channel 4 have a double-bill of Ang Lee’s The Hulk followed by The Core – i,i,irrr,irrel…does anybody want my ticket?

In all seriousness, of course I’ll be there. That’s what video-plus is for.  Besides, this one could be something very, very special. A moment akin to Danny Shittu’s own goal giving us that incredible 3-2 victory back in 2014. The celebrations that took place in the post-match prison yard kettling made all the sweeter by being able to celebrate in a torrential downpour. 

It’s always welcoming at Millwall

The chance to complete the double following this season’s quite wonderful turnaround at Griffin Park yet another incentive. Ollie and Bryan’s late, late showing to turn things around in Jota time, the stuff that dreams are made of. Moreso given the earlier penalty miss. It wouldn’t be Brentford any other way 

Even watching the replay of Josh Dasilva’s goal at The Den last season sent further shivers of anticipation up the spine about what could happen. Brentford are currently third in The Championship and are now starting to reel in Leeds United. Progress on that front will be slow and , let’s be honest, unlikely. I mean, there’s no way they’ll choke what is now down to an eight point gap with half the season to go. It’s not as though Leeds have any history of falling apart or hitting self-destruct.

But whatever Birmingham City might do  – and let’s not forget that they are a club with a worse current record than Nick Knowles ‘Every Kind Of People’  – things are still down to us. Points in the bag being better than anything else – games in hand, favours or other results. 

And the quest for more continues today. I can’t wait for this one. See you there.

Another ending like this would do very nicely, thank you.

Nick Bruzon

With a key festive tradition denied, can we reach an all time high?

Where to go with this one today? By all rights we should be looking in depth at Brentford v Bolton. A 1-0 win for The Bees on Saturday saw Thomas Frank record a morale boosting win with the game’s only goal coming courtesy of Neal Maupay. Indeed, the closest in which lacklustre opposition got to scoring was via the head of their own goalkeeper Ben Alnwick who headed just wide as the game reached a buttock clenching (for some) denouement. Honestly, it was never in doubt and Bolton look to be in serious trouble whilst Brentford will no doubt have much tougher tests ahead in the coming days. Starting this afternoon with a Boxing Day trip to Ashton Gate to face Bristol City. Will the Bolton performance be the building blocks of a lengthy run up the table or a flash in the pan win against a team who will need something special to maintain their own Championship status?

Yet this morning (Wednesday, possibly…) yours truly is very much in relaxed mode. The thought of engaging the brain one which is very much playing second fiddle to drinking another coffee and just enjoing some contemplative time. Some time with the family. Some time off work and not getting upset by the pressures of life.

Why even last night, flicking through the TV selection (the first time in about four days the box has been on) we stumbled across Mrs. Brown’s Boys. A ‘hilarious’ ‘joke’ about an Alexa style device played out before we jumped onwards in a futile quest for a Christmas ‘Bond’ move. There was no rage. No rant. No observation that, “FFS. It’s a man. In a cardigan. And a wig. With one joke. One joke that has been spread thinner than a chunky tarmac driveway“.

Instead, we let it go in search of Roger Moore. Some traditions die hard in our house and whilst we were denied satisfaction in this instance, even ITV4 letting us down, perhaps it might be time to crack out the blu-rays later today. Nothing says ‘festive season’ like Victor Tourjansky trying to figure out whether 007’s latest bit of derring-do really happened or was simply the by product of drinking too much in the mid-day sun.

And Brentford have won a game… Victor Tourjansky does his thing

 But then nothing says festive tradition like Boxing Day at Griffin Park. Sadly, after what seems like a good ten or so December 26^th home games on the bounce (Luis / Jonathan – IF you are reading and could please confirm), we now have to do battle with the seasonal timetable and upsetting the family. And that’s a green card too far in our house. Moreso at a time when Mrs Bruzon has spoiled us fantastically. More than we have any right to expect. Indeed, a key part of her present to Harry and myself was not coming to the Bolton game given her own, alleged, albatross like qualities when it comes to home wins. Sure enough, three points followed. Although he showed bigger balls than me, and he’s only five, when replying to her own post-match question…   

Rachel: “They won!! Does that mean the jinx is off and I can come back to football?”

Harry: “No mummy. Bolton were so bad that even if you’d been here Brentford would still have won”

A bit harsh? Or fair reflection? Personally, I’ve not been so calm at football in a long time. Honestly, the game never felt as though it was in doubt (at least through my eyes) despite Alnwick’s late foray upfield. Another goal or two would have been nice – if only to alleviate some of the stress from those sitting around us – but the three points came gift wrapped and we took advantage of a seasonal offering. Thomas Frank shuffled his pack and his formation. Three centre-backs were named with the wings back continuing to push high up the field – although this time not exposing the defence. Henrik Dalsgaard was finally given what we will politely call a well-earned rest whilst we still had the flexibility to introduce Yoann Barbet when Chris Mepham had to leave the field of play early. Let’s hope that one was purely a precaution.

Bolton were industrial in the challenge but offered little resistance to a positive Brentford team.

It all counts for nothing if we put in a turkey of a performance at Bristol City, of course. Yet I’m feeling upbeat. Feeling confident. The good vibe of the Junior Bees Christmas party washed over Griffin Park last week and continued through to the Bolton game when Thomas and the boys gave us all the perfect present.

Today, I’ll be following via the medium of social media or possible sneaking a look towards three wise men shouting at their TVs on Sky Sports News. There’s always the commentary option, too, yet locking myself away with Mark Burridge and an earpiece for two hours will likely be received about as well as HB’s attempts at diplomacy. Moreso when Roger is saving the world.

For those who do travel, good luck. And enjoy! For those elsewhere, I wish you well in whatever option you undertake to follow this one. Here’s to three more points. And perhaps, a bit of Bond….

You could do worse…

Nick Bruzon

I’m looking to Preston, Norwich, drones and Ash for entertainment. Not Mrs. Brown.

Saturday’s been and gone. Brentford now have trips to Preston (Wed) and Norwich City (Sat), hoping for an immediate reaction following the pain of our first home defeat of the season. Bristol City took the points against a team and ref that played us like a fiddle but whom we’ve all done to death on social media over the last few days. Instead it’s an appropriate juncture to talk Lionel Road, shirts, bands and, be warned, Mrs Brown.

A glorious afternoon on Saturday. If not result

First up, Lionel Road. I’m fortunate that my son’s school run combined with the commute to work takes me past the site of our new home on a daily basis. And what a sight it is. The speed with which the Community stadium is rising out of the ground takes the breath away at times. Likewise, the efforts of all those involved in the building process.

That’s me. I’m lucky enough having this on the doorstep so able to see the future coming to life all around. Yet for those a bit further afield, sorties into Brentford are a luxury afforded only on matchday. Which is where we need to stop and give thanks to The Brentford FC Drone on Twitter. With over a thousand followers already, the photos and films put up on social media are a quite wonderful means of being able to see the progress being made. At how incredible a job is being done. At keeping us all emotionally invested in a project on which all our footballing dreams hang. Without the drone we’d be the poorer in terms of information and appreciation, that’s for sure.

I love it. If you don’t follow this account as yet, I’d heartily endorse you climb on board. The aerial derring-do from the Biggles of Brentford can be found on Twitter c/o @TheBFCDrone.

Aerial brilliance from The Drone

Next up, shirts. The eagle eyed amongst you may have seen the infamous ‘Super league’ prototype on eBay a few weeks ago. The one that proposed we switch red and white stripes for red and black, then was promptly booed all around the four sides of Griffin Park when it was shown to the crowd to gauge their reaction at an end of season fixture. Presumably also leaving one of the youth team scarred for life.

First up, huge thanks to Mrs. Bruzon who banned me from bidding for this on pain of death but then secretly did her own shopping for just about the best birthday present this kit nerd could ask for. I have to say, whilst never having the magnificence of red/white, in retrospect is it really as bad as we thought back then? Has time been kind to this one? With Adidas sure to be replaced next season, is there any chance of our new supplier might go back to black?

It exists….

Unlikely on all counts but mentioned as much to say that eBay does seem to be a treasure trove of older shirts at present. There’s everything from player spec Hummel 93/94 to a plethora of the ‘100 years at Griffin Park’ blue/yellow special. That one, in our colours of the time, a particular favourite of yours truly. If anything, perhaps this is a scheme that will put in a reappearance when we either leave Griffin Park or move in at Lionel Road.

For the record, these aren’t my items. There’s more chance of me watching Mrs. Browns Boys than selling a Bees shirt. Likewise, the chances of buying anything at present are slim to zero. Instead, it’s mentioned purely to recognise the rarity of these aswell as direct anybody with an interest towards the chance of picking up something unusual. Just head to their site and a search of ‘Brentford shirt’ should do the rest.

Next up, live music (and the main reason there’s no spare cash for shirts). We’ve been blessed in the last few weeks on the ‘gig’ front. Highlights have included The Bluetones (at the 100 club), ELO (with a geriatric audience approaching their 100s) and then on Sunday an impromptu trip to Norwich to see Ash. This, after some hastily arranged babysitting and spontaneous decision-making the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the exact same second we became parents.

I’ve got to be honest here. I love The Bluetones, even putting aside the Brentford connection. Yet for me, Ash are all time live favourites. The excitement of a random road trip to see them once more, further enhanced by going ‘Full Partridge’ as we headed North into Norfolk. The road sign for ‘Linton’ had me sniggering like a teenage school boy. Mrs B, unimpressed by my knowledge that we had reached the midway point between Norwich and London.

The show was, as expected, magnificent. We were even afforded an early chance to scope out Carrow Road and the local pubs ahead of Saturday’s return visit.

Ash. Norwich. Go and see some decent live music.

Getting home on Monday I was still in high, high spirits. Then, a double whammy hit me like the proverbial runaway freight train. A double whammy of brown. Mrs Brown. Urghh. We go again. Again…

Firstly, c/o Bluetone Adam Devlin. He shared this on Twitter…..

Seriously. How? Why? Presumably this was a spoof story, yet it seemed to be true with the same piece coming up elsewhere. How can the ‘joke’ be spread so thin? Genuinely, WHO is watching this? Who would willingly pay money to go and see him (man. wig. cardigan etc) ‘live’. Cripes, the live music scene is still so vibrant. So intoxicating. So exciting. And then you get this. Ersatz music wrapped up as entertainment.

Yet it seems the ‘joke’ is being spread even thinner. We’ve already had the tv show, ‘da movie’ and then a second series – All round to Mrs Browns. A primetime chatshow / audience participation event that retained all the zany characters we, apparently, know and love.

But wait. Come here. There’s more. Now, aswell as being offered the musical there’s also ‘For Facts Sake.’ BBC One giving us a new chance to enjoy another flaky spin on the same tired format. This was on last night as I wondered, yet again, just what dirt Brendan O’Carroll has on the BBC. How does he keep on getting commissioned?

I don’t get it. I have tried and I have said this before. It’s entertainment for morons. Brain dead lemmings too afraid to admit the one joke has been told many, many times yet are now too embarrassed to jump off the bandwagon.

The man dressed as a woman act died many years ago. This is nothing to do with gender or stereotypes, purely comedy. And there isn’t any here. Despite the baffling lack of genuine laughs, the plaudits and series’ keeps coming.

It’s also nothing to do with football. But sometimes you need to get things off your chest. Prosthetic or otherwise.

The Bluetones. Go and see some proper live music. Not Brown

Nick Bruzon

Can England join magnificent Japan in the hunt for a monster upset?

Bloody hell. Football. I think we’re all starting to run out of superlatives after yet another stunning evening of World Cup action. And this is before we even get on to England! Monday night’s game between Belgium and Japan showcased the beautiful game at her most alluring. It was one you simply couldn’t have made up and had it all – shock, excitement, wonderful goals, an edge of the seat comeback and then bitter, bitter tears at the end as Roberto Martinez and his team scraped through by the most gossamer like of margins. It was marked contrast from the earlier game where the acting skills of Neymar will remain forever branded onto the memories of most fans rather than a 2-0 win for Brazil over Mexico. And back home, with rumours starting to circulate (we’ll get there properly when something actual happens) Brentford have now announced one move.

I’m struggling to describe the emotions of watching the Belgium – Japan encounter. Even now I’m both smiling at what unfolded yet devastated at how it finished. And that’s having only seen the final 45 minutes. This, after a problem at the office (genuinely) meant I was just coming in from work as the second half kicked off. Sadly, there was no helpful score update from the commentary team. Instead it was down to the graphic in the top corner to bring things up to speed in an immediate, if somewhat unsatisfying, style. But that was where any disappointment ended.

Talk about an explosion of action. Talk about Boy’s Own stuff. Talk about underdogs and unfancied Japan sticking it to the Premier League fat cats. Belgium, for all they galaxy of stars available to their squad were simply blown away. Jan Vertonghen left for dead by Genki Haraguchi who scored with a fine finish. It was defending as leaden footed as Gary Breen at his most oil tanker like (I’m thinking of Sunderland at Brentford in the 2006 FA Cup) but don’t let that take anything away from Haraguchi’s run and shot just after half time.

Embed from Getty Images

One for the Bees fans, there. What a moment.

Less than five minutes later the lead was doubled. Takashi Inui with an absolute piledriver of a shot from well outside the box. A blow as powerful as Godzilla laying waste to downtown Tokyo with his flaming breath but this time it was the Japanese handing out the pain rather than receiving it.

The football was devastating, it was brutal but it was brilliant. A quite scintillating display of moving the ball and running at pace. Yet still they came. Belgium looked lost. Little boys crying out for their mummys after having being promised an easy second round game but, instead, taking an absolute hammering. Fattened lambs to the slaughter after being fed a load of waffle about their opponents.

The king of the monsters, laying waste to all around

All over social media, Gareth Southgate was being praised for his tactical genius. Not in avoiding the supposed hard part of the draw but simply in England dodging a team who seemed intent on providing this most exciting of tournaments with yet another shock.

And then Belgium woke up. The double substitution of Marouane Fellaini and Nacer Chadli coming on was followed by Vertonghen atoning for his earlier error with 20 minutes to go. Five minutes later, Fellaini powered home a cross form Hazard to level things up. 2-2 and the clock ticking. Japan recomposed themselves and kept coming. A free kick at the death almost drifting in before a quite magnificent move out of the back opened up the Japan midfield and back line for Chadli to stroke home with just seconds remaining.

It was a goal as heartbreaking as it was beautiful. Godzilla having been finally subdued by the footballing equivalent of a freeze ray. With what seemed to be the entire nation willing on Japan, you had to admire the speed and skill with which the winner was scored. Even if it was begrudgingly. The coup de grâce being Lukaku’s sweet dummy when he could have been forgiven for trying to stab the ball goalwards but, instead, allowing it to run through to his teammate to break their opponents’ hearts  

The Japanese were distraught. Understandably so. I had to turn off within moments of the final whistle as they collapsed to the pitch in despair. It felt as though we were intruding on some private moment of grief after having been afforded the privilege of witnessing some of the most breathtaking football in history. Indtead, it was left to their coach Akira Nishino to sum it up:  “I don’t want to admit it. I do feel that it was a tragedy but I have to accept the defeat as a fact.”

It was a million miles away from what we will remember from the earlier game. Brazil beat Mexico 2-0 to set up a quarter final with Belgium. Fine. But the theatrics from Neymar Jr, writhing around as though he had been shot, brought torrents of disdain from just about the entire footballing community. It was Rivaldo levels of farce. Acting as unsubtle as Mrs. Brown and a moment that what about as unfunny as Brendan O’Carroll’s tedious creation.

This sequence on my Twitter timeline summing the day up in one screen grab.   

And so the quarter finals are starting to take shape. This one really is up for grabs now. Whilst anyone could win it, looking at the games to come, anyone really could. But will England join them?

Gareth Southgate’s team do battle with Colombia this evening. On the pitch, it’s 11 v11. Off it, we have England v the curse of ITV.

Whilst I spoke about this earlier in the week, it does bear repeating. England have only one one World Cup game that has been shown on the light channel since 1998. That, back in Germany 2006 against Trinidad and Tobago. Even then, it took two very late goals (Peter Crouch after 83 minutes and Steven Gerrard on 90) to secure three points for Sven’s team. Ah, Sven – remember him?

Can England turn form around? After a World Cup of shocks, I wouldn’t bet against Gareth Southgate pulling off the biggest upset of the tournament to date. Victory under the gaze of Glenn Hoddle.

The stats don’t lie…

And finally, Brentford. There was transfer news of sorts. Theo Archibald has joined League Two outfit Forest Green Rovers for 2018/19 (albeit with the option to recall in January). You can read the full story on ‘official’ .

All of which brings us with sledgehammer like unsubtlety to the Last Word season /five-season reviews which remain available for download. ALL proceeds received are being donated to the Brentford FC Community Sports Trust so why not help out this wonderful part of our club whilst providing yourself with some relief for the commute, the bathroom or just whilst relaxing on holiday.

Ten Times Better. Brentford FC Season review: 2017/18. Inspired by ‘that’ interview it contains the least bad of these columns in one, handy volume as it looks at our own campaign as well as wider divisional life and the promotion / relegation races.

As a bonus there’s a whole host of new material. New that is, for my pages. Specifically, all the programme articles submitted (both home and away where, if nothing else, you can get the original versions of both Birmingham City and Millwall).

In addition, There Is No Plan B. Brentford FC Season reviews: 2013/14 – 2017/18 takes us all the way back to the start of this latest leg in the journey. That penalty. League One. Harlee Dean was a hero. Jota was something we thought happened to the temperature for one week in July. Alan Judge had joined on loan whilst the Marinus Experiment was something nobody had contemplated. Bringing things bang up to date by the inclusion of this year’s volume alongside the four previously published campaign round ups, it has five seasons in one weighty tome. As weighty as a download can be, that is.

Relive the memories. See how often the same material gets regurgitated. Remind yourself how it all began…..

Nick Bruzon

Adam from The Bluetones wins Twitter, Henrik wins for Denmark and bad news for England. Guess who’s back….

Brentford give Bournemouth the brush off. Henrik Dalsgaard gets off to a winning start for Denmark and there’s bad news for England fans in Russia ahead of Monday’s World Cup opener against Tunisia.

There’s a lot to get through this morning so let’s cut to the chase. The internet was buzzing yesterday with the news that Bournemouth have put in another bid for Wales international Chris Mepham. This time, rumoured to be in the £10million ball park.

We could spend paragraphs discussing the fee or his merits but anybody who has seen Chris play knows how exponentially fast his progress has been – both for Brentford and Wales. Instead, I’ll leave it to Bees fan Adam Devlin (sometime touring guitarist for popular music’s The Bluetones) to summarise the story in one tweet.

Stick a naught on it or fuck off. https://t.co/mrOuabcoXx

— Adam Devlin (@ad_I_am) June 16, 2018

Succinct but very much to the point. Well said, Adam. And do give my regards to Roland.

Next up, Henrik Dalsgaard. As was well, well documented all over social media yesterday, Brentford have had our first ever contracted player appear in a World Cup finals. Not a typo.

Whilst it a fact that is now being repeated almost as much as eighteen year old Ryan Sessegnon’s age (18? Really? If only somebody had said) it really does bear enjoying just one more time. We’ve had a player at The World Cup. A player. At The World Cup!!

What an achievement. It actually happened. Just beautiful. Moreso as Henrik’s Denmark team secured all three points in the 1-0 win over Peru.

As with the Chris Mepham to Bournemouth ‘story’ , Twitter was the place to be for all those key opinions.

@cpile14: Well done Henrik Dalsgaard today, just wow 👍

@TomField9: Come on Henrik 🇩🇰 imagine playing in the World Cup 😅

@Tomgreat1990: if anyone ever needed proof we’re on the up, it’s today 🙂

BBC Match Of The Day (@BBCMOTD) : History maker! Henrik Dalsgaard, the first Brentford player to appear at a #WorldCup

But it was @TommyLYeah who captured the moment just perfectly, cutting to the chase of what most of us in TW8 were thinking with the declaration:

Tommy: This is fucking mental!! Watching an actual @BrentfordFC player in a World Cup match…Yes, lil’ ol’ tinpot Brentford… GO ON HENRIK!!

The BBC were quick to tweet about our man

Ok – time to cut to the elephant in the room. Or, rather, the big steaming pile of elephant poo in the room. Better known as The England Supporters Band. I’m not going to mince any words here. I loathe them. Absolutely loathe them. When the Mexican Wave or Robbie Williams singing ‘Let me Entertain You’ (which you can find on: Now that’s what I call Stadium music, also featuring: ‘We Are The Champions’) have the moral high ground in the low brow sporting tedium stakes then there’s something seriously wrong.  

Given the choice of being gaffer-taped to a chair and subjected to them or Mrs. Brown’s Boys, I honestly think I’d have to side with Brendan O’Carroll performing his toe-curlingly unfunny Irish mammy/man in a cardigan routine. But enough about my private life.

Nobody is celebrating this news

Seriously? Who actually likes them? Who goes to a game thinking that their experience is going to be enhanced by the alleged band of England’s alleged supporters? This self-appointed bunch of footballing cuckoos in the nest. These tedious purveyors of off-key tromboning, repeating those ‘greatest hits ad-nauseaum. I’ve written it before – many times – and will no doubt do so again in future.

“What this match needs to liven it up right now is some flaccid parping and a whiny rendition of ‘The theme from the Great Escape’, ‘The Italian Job’ or the National Anthem” Said Nobody. Ever.

If they and their friends at the FA are that convinced by the group’s popularity then put it to the vote. I’d love to see the results. Infact, I’ve just put a twitter poll up this morning. Please dive in if you have an opinion.

The Telegraph reports that the #England Supporters Band are going to be allowed to bring their instruments into the ground for the #WorldCup. Is this a good thing?

— Nick Bruzon (@NickBruzon) June 17, 2018

 

But we digress. The point of all this is that the FA have helped them circumnavigate the tournament’s ban on bringing musical instruments into the games. A report in The Telegraph explains how they now have a letter granting them permission after the FA succesfully lobbied on their behalf following their exclusion from Brazil 2014. As band leader John Hemmingham notes: “It means the world to us, obviously, because we can go in and do what we do now. We can, to a certain extent, determine the mood.”

The mood being killed, one presumes.

Urghh. Here comes 7(seven) Nation Army. Again.  Joy, Love will Tear Us Apart is up next. The musical equivalent of having electrodes attached to your genitals.

For the record, I use the term ‘musical’ in its loosest sense.

Hemmingham goes on to add that he has concerns as to how the band will be treated in Russia following the recent diplomatic incidents that have dominated the headlines. As anybody who has had the misfortune to sit through their routine will no doubt testify, diplomacy is the least of their concerns. On the plus side, The Telegraph article goes on to note how he’ll be taking precautions and “won’t be doing anything to cause any unwanted attention.”

Not playing would be a start, John.

You can read the interview in full, here.

Fans gather to greet the band in Russia

Getting back to Brentford, Adam Bluetone isn’t the only one of our higher profile fans giving their opinion on the World Cup. We’ve already spoken about Natalie Sawyer’s new podcast – the latest of which is just up this morning. I can’t wait to hear what she ahs to say about Henrik and Denmark. With her feet under the moderator’s table, I have no doubt that Natalie will be totally impartial. Although I hope not!  

However, the latest to add his name to the pundit’s hat is comedian Nathan Caton. And not a moment too soon, it has to be said. His daily World Cup reviews are fast gaining cult status on twitter. Get on baord – they’re brilliant. The latest has just gone live. You can find it below.

World Cup review: Day 3 #Russia2018 #WorldCup pic.twitter.com/VaqPF4fjml

— Nathan Caton (@NathanCaton) June 17, 2018

And finally, I know I bang on about this a lot but my season reviews containing the least bad of the columns and some new content are now available for download.

The reason I bang on about this is because all proceeds raised are being donated to the Brentford FC Community Sports Trust. We all know about the great work they do whilst my own son has now started Saturday morning football training at one of their sessions. And he loves it. As such, I’d love to try and do something in return.

As additional incentive, I’d like to give one of you an ‘unavailable to the general public’ Brentford FC third shirt from 2017/18. I’ve got hold of it from a source close to the club and am giving it away to one supporter by means of a draw. All you have to do is download the 2017/18 season review (or the five-year compendium) to enter the draw that will take place at the end of the month – just DM/ tweet me the download confirmation email by June 30^th and we’ll pick a lucky winner.

You can download Kindle e-book at this line Ten Times Better. Brentford FC Season review: 2017/18  whilst the five year compendium goes all the way from ‘that penalty’ to this season’s Championship play off final.

There Is No Plan B. Brentford FC Season reviews: 2013/14 – 2017/18

THANK YOU

Nick Bruzon

That’s one Saturday we’ll never forget although maybe not for all the right reasons.

After all the build-up to both the play-off final and Champions League it ended up being awful. Just awful. Cock ups and woeful flaps. Dreadful clappers egging on their heroes and nobody laughing. But enough about BBC1 screening: All Round to Mrs. Browns last night. We need to talk about football. Brentford will play Aston Villa next season after they lost out to Fulham. Liverpool return home empty handed following the game with Real Madrid in Kiev.

Mrs. Brown. As relentless as The Terminator

I hadn’t planned on blogging much until the World Cup. Yet yesterday’s double-header has seen a temporary return for this weekend. With Brentford having enjoyed such an action packed campaign it was only right and proper to recognise the Championship season coming to conclusion. And then there was the added bonus of Liverpool trying to recreate the miracle of Istanbul on another of those glory, glory European nights (other entries from the Anfield bingo card are also available).

What can you say though? Even this morning I still numb by what happened. Shocked. That most fickle mistress having administered a kick to the nuts that was harsh even by her standards. And just to be clear, I’m still talking about the football rather than any accidental switching over to Mrs. Brown half way through the night.

There’s not much to add that hasn’t already been written and said. The clappers were horrific. The play-off final was cagey. The post-match love in with a Fulham side who should have been reduced to ten players much earlier than it eventually happened was awful. Aston Villa picked themselves up in the second half but it was much too late by then. Tom Cairney grabbing the winner after being put through by Eighteen-year-old Sessegnon. For those not familiar with the player, I understand his name is actually Ryan. And he did a pass. Well done.

The only real plus point to come out of this was that at least Steve Bruce has been spared telling John Terry to grow up, forget his own perceived self-importance and get warmed up for the game against Chelsea next season. Instead, it’ll be a game against Brentford. If he doesn’t hang up his boots.

As for Liverpool, it wasn’t to be. Goalkeeper has a nightmare will be what we take away from this. Sadly. One has to feel for Loris Karius. He cut a desperate figure at full time, left alone on the pitch in Kiev. For all the world looking like he just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. It was awful to watch. As though we were peering in on an individual’s moment of personal hell when surely an immediate arm round the shoulder was needed.

Rio Ferdinand in the pundit’s box didn’t really help afterwards. None of his teammates will say it, but they‘ll all be looking at him and thinking it. I’ve been in that situation. I’ve done it…he noted.

Stevie G joined in, mentioning he’d won the final. Again. And again. Clanngggg – the sound of a name being dropped.

Whatever happened, happened. Easy for me to say on a Sunday morning but we’ve more than seen our own pantheon of goalkeeping calamity at Griffin Park over the years. We’ve more than felt our own pain at the final stage. That’s before you even get to all those play-off semis and, of course, ‘that penalty’.

Wigan, Crewe, Port Vale, Stoke City, Carlisle and Yeovil Town may not have the same allure as Real Madrid but the pain was just as real. The feeling of emptiness horrific. The realisation of having got so close only to fall at the last is just a brutal sensation.

Marcello Trotta takes that penalty – as bad as it got but what a response next season.

It was Ashley Bayes to the max. It does get better. It will get better. It may not feel it now. That feeling of despair we all felt as the penalty hit the bar was replaced with something quite wonderful the following season as another penalty hit the back of the net.

At the same time, bouncing back from making not one but two such high profile mistakes with the eyes of the world watching is going to be as huge a challenge as they come. Hopefully, somebody will go round Twitter mopping up some of the vile abuse being poured out towards the young goalkeeper and his family. It was simply horrific. This normally most wonderful of social media tools at it’s very worst.

Spare a thought also for Mo Salah. Whether you support Liverpool or not, only the most churlish could take pleasure from the fact that he now looks as though he’ll miss the World Cup. For this global superstar to be absent from the most exciting of tournaments is a huge loss. For Egypt, for fans, for football and of course the player himself. What a way it would have been to wrap up a simply magnificent season. Now, he’s hoping the medics can do their thing but listening to Jürgen Klopp talking at full time, it doesn’t seem good.

I could ramble on, but what’s the point. Football treated us to the very worst of what she offers yesterday. At least in terms of raw, inconsolable emotion. Unless you are a Fulham fan.

See you all again in a week or so. There’s a World Cup, a new Brentford kit and a few more things to look forward to….

Ashley Bayes bounced back from this debut

Nick Bruzon

When Mrs. Brown has the moral high ground, something is seriously wrong. Star Bores day is here.

Dear Star Wars fans.

This one’s for you (Brentford v Hull City can wait until tomorrow). Copy, paste and edit. A bit.

I love the same film series (Jar Jar Binks and Yoda aside) as you do and one day look forward to watching these with my son. I still have a Millennium Falcon toy somewhere in that attic although sadly, no original packaging. My now four year old son is being slowly sucked into the film series and is a huge Chewbacca fan. The naughty man still scares him. I’m a bit “m’eh” about the prospect of the forthcoming Han Solo film. Being honest.

As such, I guess I’m a fan. Of sorts. Not in the same ball park as the Roger Moore era of James Bond movies but still a fan. Watching ‘For Your Eyes Only’ last night (ITV4) I was blown away by he deadpan brilliance of the exchange:
“If we could identify that someone….”
“Why don’t you try the identigraph?”

Yet sadly, every year, something happens to make me fall out of love with these films a little bit more (not Bond, for the record).

Today is Friday the fourth of May. Or, as most sane people also know it, Friday the fourth of May. Perhaps the date is best remembered as the anniversary of the Cornwall railway bridge opening, linking Devon and Cornwall. If you need to commemorate the 4/5 at least make it for a significant reason.

Instead Sci-fi geeks and lovers of crap jokery everywhere will, no doubt, be bastardising the date and infecting my social media timeline with the hilarious, wait for it……. ‘May the fourth be with you’ comment.

May the fourth. Be. With. You. It’s funny because it almost sounds like a line from a film. How we laughed.
Even now, writing those horrible, horrible words, I can feel the vomit rising. The gag reflex building. The anger simmering. Not even Mrs. Brown and her boys would stoop to this level of ‘joke’. Probably.

How could this happen?

Please – I beg of you – it’s not too late. It’s not funny, it’s not clever, its not original and using this weak, weak pun does not make you into some 21st Century Oscar Wilde or Stephen Fry. It’s the sort of ‘joke’ used by people who find The Krankies or ‘Big Mouth Billy Bass’ ( ‘Take me to the river” – don’t tempt me) the height of cultural sophistication.

So this fourth of May, don’t play into the hands of the Star Wars Marketing board. If you really want to enjoy Star Wars then stick on Return of the Jedi, perhaps fast-forwarding through any Ewok related content.

Just don’t. Make. That. Joke.

Nick Bruzon

Move along, we go again etc etc. There’s a lot more to frustrate you than Monday.

Queens Park Rangers 2 Brentford 2. Take a look in the record books and that’s what you’ll see following Monday night’s trip to Loftus Road. So QPR salvaged a point as their manager used his post match interview to savage their fans. And? Move along, there are bigger fish to fry – like Fulham on Saturday.

I didn’t write anything on these pages yesterday. Whilst I’d normally do so immediately after a game, this was different. We all know what happened on Monday night. Although some thoughts were penned (for the Fulham matchday programme), sitting down at the computer with my espresso to start this blog I couldn’t do it. Not that there was any particular reluctance, albeit the evening had ended in what could politely be described as a ‘frustrating conclusion’ , but as I looked at the coffee to try and clear that post-match fug  the mind began to wander. And wander. In no particular order

‘Expresso’. FFS, it’s Espresso. Es. Not Ex. What part of anybody with eyes in their head and the ability to read thinks ‘s’ is pronounced ‘x’?

Mrs Brown’s Boys. It’s a man. In a wig.

Mrs Brown. Man? Tick.  Cardigan? Tick.   Wig? Tick.   Jokes?   Move along, nothing to see here

Katie Hopkins. Saying. Anything. Just shut up. Please.

The demise of the Brentford ‘Terrace Talk’ video feature.

Getting Ant and Dec wrong – how is that possible? Ant always stands on the left (contractual obligation to stop old people getting confused).

Ian Moose and his ego. The man has more good friends than Paul Nicholas and Jan Francis.

Len Goodman’s ‘Partners In Rhyme’. The bastard offspring of Mrs Brown’s Boys (humour level) and Catchphrase as Len has somehow been convinced that he’s the new Bruce Forsyth. He isn’t.

Alan Green.

Team GB. Why? Where? How was this allowed to become a thing? We’re Great Britain . It’s not Mannschaft D or Equipe F.

On an Olympic vibe, the faux verb, ‘to medal’. I blame Sue Barker for that one.

Memes.

Surveys about the ‘Best James Bond ever’ that have Roger Moore ranked anywhere except number 1.

Roger Moore at his best

Sir/Lord Alan Sugar saying ‘You’re fired’, Granted, it’s a catchphrase, but surely by definition his wannabe employees/ business partners need to be hired before being able to be fired?

Corporate Account hashtags on Twitter. Who could forget the joy of #BigNewAmbitions, #Novemberkings or #Trophyfriends?

The Stone Roses – how? Three good songs (at best).

Mrs Brown’s Boys. If ever The Emperor’s New Clothes was reimagined for the 21st Century then here it is.

Getting videprinter brackets wrong. They start at 7(seven), not sooner . Or, at least, they should.

Nick Knowles – that is, the version that has reinvented himself as a singer (although if you ever need a boost then the reviews section on Amazon for his new album is more entertaining than the product itself).

Eric Clapton – unplugged. Worst. Album. Ever. The plinky plonk versions. The toe curling between song ‘banter’. Six months in the back of an overland truck going across Africa with that locked on repeat in the tape deck is too much.

West Ham. See : Winning the World Cup in 1966. Trevor Brooking scoring a header. Media love in with their season long farewell to Upton Park. If only somebody had mentioned.

The England Supporters Band. Show me one person to claim this self-appointed bunch of trumpet wielding clowns enhance a game of football and I’ll show you a liar.

Nobody asked for this

iPod headphones. For supposed technological giants, the singular inability of Apple to create a product that plays music inwards rather than outwards is one that astounds.

Footballers reassuring us that ‘We go again ‘ after a particularly bad performance.

Clackers and foam fingers to ‘enhance’ the atmosphere. See also: drums. Not quite in the same league as ‘that band’ but not far behind.

South West Rail automated apologies for the inconvenience. Specifically that bit where the system pauses that fraction of a second to crowbar in the sincerity level of their apology during a particularly bad delay.

John Bishop (adoration levels). Apparently he’s from Liverpool and likes football.

Peppa Pig. A terrible example for any young children who may be watching. And yes, I realise they’re her target audience but the amount of mud splattered shoes/trousers I’ve had to rescue over the years has seen a simmering, and one way, animosity build towards the porcine puddle jumper.

I could go on. The point being (aside from the fact I watch too much TV) that no matter how frustrating the circumstances of getting a draw away from home, there could be a lot more niggly things out there to annoy you. If nothing else, that’s still only 1 win for QPR out of our last 6 games since Brentford ascended to the Championship.

Instead, my focus is now on Saturday. On Fulham. On another win.

Oh, and did I mention Mrs Brown’s Boys?

Nick Bruzon