A picture that’s unappealing yet packed with morbid curiosity.

Stoke City v Brentford. Thus came our fourth round fate following last night’s League Cup draw – (c) Middlesex Chronicle Big Book of 80’s alliteration. Hopefully Thomas Frank won’t be left feeling a Beleagured Bees Boss after that one. Blinkin’ Stoke City. No offence but the last draw anybody would have wanted. Including them. For Brentford, a lot of bad history and a Wednesday evening half-term shlep to the Potteries. For Stoke, still a glamour tie against Premier League opposition but opponents they have played, a lot, since dropping back to the Championship in 2018. I’m sure they would have relished a visit from a Liverpool or Manchester City although at least swerved Mark Warburton and his Loftus Road outfit after they beat Everton (more to follow on The Toffees).

The draw in full

Positives. We’re in the last 16. We’re yet to face a top flight rival. The game comes between a visit from Leicester City and a trip to Burnley but, otherwise, we’ve nothing midweek on either side. Cripes, the Tuesday/Saturday back to back fixtures destroyed so many Championship clubs last season. Absolutely knackering, It’s a run that shows no sign of abating this time around and with Stoke still on that sort of relentless fixture overload, might they use this one as a tactical hit to rest tired limbs? Test the squad to its full extent? Who knows? Whomever the respective managers pick, this one is going to be as tough and gruelling as it comes. A tie with all the allure of Mrs Browns Boys squaring up to The England Supporter’s Band in a pub car park. Nobody wants to watch it yet we’ll still take a look. Just in case.

Unappealing yet packed with morbid curiosity

Until then, there’s only one word on everyone’s lips: The Liverpool game. Ok, that’s three but you get the drift. We’ve already talked about this a fair bit on these pages and no doubt will do a bit more come Friday / Saturday. There’s only so much clickbait one can follow on other sites and so many times we can regurgitate Tony Gubba’s immortal line or one of the few photos in the personal collection from the last time our paths crossed. It’ll be huge. For them.

For us, one more game and that’s the only way to treat it. Play the team in front of us rather than the history. It worked for Arsenal (albeit they were inept) and it may work again. Who knows ?

One more time…The Bees haven’t played Livepool since the FA Cup in 1989

Elsewhere, the home game with Everton has been pushed back a day for TV coverage. That’ll now take place at 2pm on Sunday 28th November. The price of playing at a higher level. On the plus side, it means the trips to Burnely and Newcastle United remain unscathed – not surprisingly – so at least train tickets can be booked with relative impunity.

All that’s to come though. For now, with too much time wasted trying to get Mrs. Brown to hold a broken bottle, better wrap things up and start the school run. Perhaps the prospect of Saturday’s visit from Liverpool might get H moving.

He’s all good when Buzz is around but try getting an 8 year old ready for school on a Thursday

Nick Bruzon 

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Three games. Two weeks. One winner….

Congratulations Leicester City. Their 1-0 win in yesterday’s FA Cup final over Chelsea as much a victory for the fans in the stands and those back home as it was for the Foxes. With Brentford next up in enjoying supporters present (albeit of the ‘home’ variety only) for Monday evening’s play-off first leg at Bournemouth, one can only help this cautious return is one which can now escalate. The difference between an empty stadium and a ground not even a quarter full was palpable. The noise a cacophony with cheers and boos greeting every blast of the referee’s whistle. No more than when VAR once again proved itself to be as a big a passion killer as Mrs Brown smooching with Donald Trump whilst being serenaded by the England Supporter’s ‘band’. At least, if you wee a Chelsea fan. The jubilation that came from the Leicester end as the late equaliser was chalked off for the most marginal of offsides, the loudest noise off the afternoon. At least, until the cup was raised. If ever there was something for Brentford to try and emulate then there it was . The chance to enjoy the sweetest of triumphs in front of our supporters. Wembley sounding like the loudest place on earth despite the enforced emptiness of most seats. Not that anybody was sitting down.

Passion killer – VAR in ‘human’ form

That’s all a long way off, of course. First things first, Thomas Frank has to mastermind his way past Bournemouth. Brentford go into the mini tournament as 6/4 favourites with the bookmakers, followed by The Cherries, Barnsley and then Swansea City at 4/1. Scratch all of that. This is about as even as they come. This is as much to do with nerves and remaining calm as it is footballing ability and current form. Monday evening is going to be huge but I can’t wait. Genuinely excited. Of course, there is also a level of trepidation but after all that has come before us this season, we now have a chance to take those final steps towards the Premier League.

This time last campaign we were about as down as it is possible to get in footballing terms. The ultimate prize dropped on the line. Brentford had missed out on automatic and then went into the semi with a Swansea City team who had edged past Nottingham Forest to finish sixth in that most well documented and exciting of fashions. They had their tails up and won the first game by a single goal. Rico Henry saw red and, whilst Keith Stroud’s decision was eventually over turned before the return fixture, the evening felt like yet another step down that well trodden path signposted, ‘It’s Brentford, innit?’. The fortitude shown in the return fixture was immense. Unfortunately the final turned out to be a victory for Cheatrovic and some industrial challenges over a team who just ran out of steam and had no way through until it was too little, too late.

Keith Stroud…..not for the first time, Brentford suffered his thing in the play-offs

Hindsight it a wonderful thing, of course. Things haven’t exactly been a bed of roses for Fulham since going up. They’ve played out the campaign in an empty, three-sided ground and returned directly to the Championship. Do not pass go. Do not collect £200. We can’t tell what we would or wouldn’t have done but the important thing at this juncture is to take all of that and learn from it. The vast majority of this squad went through it all together. Hurt together. Kicked on again this season together. The primary addition to the group being Ivan Toney. A player in whom the way to goal is as instinctive as anybody with a three figure IQ reaching for the remote control whenever Mrs Brown’s Boys comes on TV.

All good in, theory.  Football doesn’t work like that. Just ask Chelsea. Cliche alert : this boils down to who wants it most. We know what we can do on our day. Insatiable going forward, Impenetrable at the back. We also know we can have our ‘Coventry away’ moments. That, as much as the form of Watford and Norwich City, the reason we are now facing a tenth stab at the play-offs. Finishing third for a second successive season is wonderful but now is the time to back it up with a genuine reward rather than good wishes from the footballing community. 

The other three teams fighting it out are going to feel equally deserving and will be 110% committed to winning this thing at any cost. Just turning up, expecting to win and being seen as the ‘nice guys’ won’t cut it. Thomas Frank is going to have to give the mother of all team talks on Monday. And Saturday. He has the talent at his disposal, that’s for sure. 

Yet, yet, yet. I still can’t but help feel properly excited by all of this. That’s not right. It’s the play-offs. We all know our record. It’s terrible – in terms of sheer horror, one to rank alongside the 2000 version of ‘The Great Escape’ that had the temerity to reach number 26 in the hit parade. We should be quaking but, instead, I’m buzzing with anticipation. An air of calm currently very much the vibe in our house. Table INSIDE the pub booked for Monday evening and as much the prospect of seeing old friends from a social distance a cause for additional excitement as is the game at hand. 

It really exists. People really bought it…

We are three games away from playing in the top flight next season for the first time in just about everybody’s living memory. Even our Methuselah on the mic, Peter Gilham. Three games away from hosting teams like Leicester City and Chelsea as well as those other names we are all so familiar with. Most importantly, we get the chance to see an actual live game of football again. Judging by the cup final yesterday, that in itself is a prize worth fighting for. A trip to Wembley something to be savoured. Something to be enjoyed. Something that, unlike previous attempts, won’t be something to fear. IF we can get past Bournemouth first. 

Cripes, the noise that came out of 21,000 yesterday was a thing of beauty to behold. A reminder of why football is nothing without fans. Here’s hoping there is more to come in the coming two weeks. For Brentford….

Imagine experiencing this….. What an aspiration.

Nick Bruzon

There’s an upset coming….

Here we go. The weekend action is done. Spurs warmed up for Tuesday night’s league cup semi-final with Brentford by thumping Leeds United 3-0. The Bees, meanwhile, put their feet up after Bristol City pulled the plug on our own game at the 11th hour following the discovery of untestable symptoms in the squad. Apparently. We’ve said our piece on that one here. Now is the time to look forward. Perhaps with a bit more juice back in the tank, history awaits at Tottenham.

The quarter-finals were awesome. Next up, Spurs.

Cripes, this is exciting. 90 minutes away from the W place in North London. A chance at a first major cup final. With all due respect to the Sherpa Vans / Leyland Daf etc etc. In our way, the unpredictable genius of Jose Mourinho and his galaxy of International stars. If they go full strength then any team would be up against it. Champions League regulars and currently sitting fourth in the top flight. For Brentford, a question more of how deep into the first team we delve. Sure, we’ve beaten four Premier League outfits to get here (which is still more in total than Sheffield United, West Brom and FulhamL combined have managed in the league all season) but this is next level opposition. Teams like us don’t win these sort of games? Little old Brentford haven’t got a prayer. Have we?

Insert usual lecture about magic of the cup. How both teams deserve to be here and, at the end of the day (Clive) its 11 v 11 over 90 minutes. All of which is true, of course, if not somewhat clichéd. Yet for me this one is even more open than ever. Might Bristol City have even done us an inadvertent favour?

Tottenham fighting it out for the Premier League title. Every point and ounce of energy vital to their cause. The added complication of a huge potato skin coming up on Sunday with the FA Cup tie at Marine. There’s a lot of juggling to be done there. Will it impact selection or are the players simply too strong ? Chuck an empty stadium into the mix and the game takes on the neutrality of a training ground – atmosphere wise, at least. You can bet the regulars will be banging on Thomas Frank’s door for the chance to start this one and just to maintain fitness after the Bristol City debacle. To prove just what they can do and that last season’s wobble when, for once it wasn’t Leeds United who fell apart (amazing how much that break helped them restore their momentum before reaching a deserved promotion), was nothing more than that. An abhoration. A freak. Something to use in order to show that it has only made us stronger.

Despite the loss of Ollie Watkins and Said Benrahma we’re arguably stronger this time around. Defensively strong, the midfield has bite and the goals still flow. Perhaps not as quickly as before but we’re not shipping them. Josh Dasilva, David Raya, Sergi Canos and Ethan Pinnock amongst those to be looking even better than ever. Rico Henry surely the most coveted star in the Championship. Ivan Toney banging them in for fun. Vitaly Janelt the latest on the conveyor belt of previously undiscovered talent. 

We’re further ahead in both league placing and points scored than this time last season despite the non-stop cavalcade of games. The performance against Bournemouth last week one of the best games of football seen in many years. The Bees relentless, determined, ruthless. Weathering the early storm. Coming back from going a goal down (see also: Cardiff City away the game before) to blitz our opponents and kill their own free flowing game. Seeing them resort to bypassing their more creative elements proof, once again, that Thomas Frank had it spot on.  Has a game plan that works.

The denouement to last season was death by a thousand cuts. Despite the optimism and genuine belief I felt going in to every game – even the play-offs – that game in North London did for my psyche. Floored emotionally. The thought of having to start it all again, knowing it would be without our star names, a prospect up there with being strapped to a chair and force-fed Mrs. Browns Boys. Nobody in their right mind would want to go through that but, eventually, it ends. The new season has come and with it, renewed love of football and faith in our team. Of trust in our set up and the pleasure of seeing that (cliché alert) calls of it being a marathon not a sprint have been well founded. We never win every game. We’ve had to find our feet. We’ve done that and our now firing.

Spurs have still got too much for us and should, surely, reach the final. On paper. If nothing else, they’re well used to these big games where the line is in sight and the silverware is glistening. For Brentford, this is very much the sort of ad-hoc opportunity which is about as familiar as a decent joke in the Mrs. Browns Boys Xmas special. Or any episode for that manner.

Yet, somehow, Brendan O’Carroll and his fetid creation keep going. Keep defying the odds. Continue to buck the trend. Could Thomas Frank do the same? Nobody expects us to win but this huge unbeaten run and our current approach have to count for something. Its a game where the approach needs to be 110% disciplined but, equally, there is no pressure on us because outside of TW8 there is no expectation.

At the end of the day Clive, it IS 11 v 11 over 90 minutes. The bookies have Spurs as red hot favourites. Brentford the 6-1 longshots. Yet, to me, the gap doesn’t feel that big. Is it? Meet you on the sofa tomorrow evening when we find out. Say this quietly, but I’ve got a feeling we’re going to pull off a shock…

Not my maths….

Nick Bruzon       

Eyes down for a full house. Of sorts….

Here we go. Time for some festive cheer. A Christmas cracker etc etc etc. With London plunged in to Tier 4 and the next few weeks looking like the equivalent of being tied to a chair and force fed Mrs Brown’s Boys on repeat, could Brentford provide a much needed boost to morale? Tuesday evening sees our league cup quarter final with Newcastle United and I for one can’t wait. With doom and gloom all around us (but enough about Mrs Brown’s Boys) the chance of making the semis is a huge opportunity waiting to be taken. The chance to get closer to another appearance at the W place in North London. The chance to increase our lead over Fulham L of Premier league clubs beaten this season. The chance to actually qualify for Europe – via the medium of the Uefa Europa Conference League (UECL) place that goes to the winner. The chance to actually lift a trophy.

There are only eight teams left in this. The Bees and Stoke City sole representatives from outside the top flight. Flying the Championship flag but, equally, there in our own right. Tough opposition in Southampton, West Bromwich Albion and Wycombe Wanderers have already been despatched. And also Fulham L. Thomas Frank’s red and white army unstoppable. Now, 13 games unbeaten as the goals fly in. Ivan Toney doing his thing. Vitaly Janelt our latest unsung hero. Sergi Canos back to his best. Bryan Mbeumo lashing in two top, top goals during the weekend’s destruction of Reading. Rico Henry, surely knocking on the England manager’s door from his left-back berth. The rest of the defence being picked with all the consistency of car keys being plucked from a bowl yet whomever gets selected, locking out those coming at us. 

Bryan did his thing in some style on Saturday

Expect more changes tonight. Ethan Pinnock has served Mads Bech Sorensen’s suspension for the red card at Watford (hmmm) and will surely be catapaulted straight back in to the team. Likewise, Christian Norgaard is fit once more. Could he and Vitaly start alongside each other? Will it be a straight swap? Or is the bench the best he can hope for at present? 

Up top, with coverage beginning at 5.00pm you can set your Sky bingo cards to 5.01pm for mention of ‘Ivan Toney proving a point against former club Newcastle United’. Personally speaking, one can only imagine his primary goals being to see Brentford make it through whilst adding to his own tally for the season.Not sure I could sit through another of his penalty kicks, though. The technique incredible although one that gives me kittens in the run up. Doing it in normal time would be just fine, please.

Positivity is great but let’s not forget who we’re up against. Newcastle United (are they still everyone’s ‘favourite second team’?  – thanks, Sky) remain a top flight club and pushing to win a first trophy since 1969. With the 5-2 tonking handed out by Leeds United still fresh in the mind and then, even worse, failing to beat Fulham L, Steve Bruce will be desperate to inject his own brand of good cheer into the North-East. He’ll have to do it without Allan Saint-Maximin and captain Jamaal Lascelles, both of whom are suffering from the fallout out of Corona Virus. Urghh, there we go. The C word. Just add  – Brentford’s longest run in the competition for a ‘full house’.

The one could go either way. For me, Clive, there’s no sense in trying to predict it. It’s hard enough knowing who is even going to start let alone who will emerge on top. Instead, let’s sit back with some snacks, with a beer and watch the action unfold. The kick off is at 5.30pm and its live on Sky. Grab your bingo card and let’s do this…..

Nick Bruzon 

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

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

Match Of The Day scandal ruins transfer news.

“Mate I’m scandalised…” Not my words but those of Brentford supporter JJ (he of the goal inducing dodgy bladder from the Ealing Road) that reached me last night via the medium of text message. They are words that should unite supporters of every club from West Bromwich Albion and Arsenal to Partick Thistle, Forfar Athletic and beyond. Words which even eclipsed our own news about the signing of striker Nikos Karelis. All this, after reading an article in his son Felix’s copy of BBC Match Of The Day Magazine.

Nikos. Blown away by a scandal from Lineker et al

Mrs. Browns Boys. Made up coffee words – where I gather Star*ucks have now added Trenta to their ‘made up words‘ size range that also includes ‘Tall’ (small, obviously), ‘Grande’ and ‘Venti’. Team GB. Bernie Clifton or, rather, his tinpot England ‘supporters’ ‘band’. Polls about ‘Best Bond’ which have Roger Moore anywhere except number one. Espresso spelt or pronounced Expresso. The world’s weakest joke: Star Wars Day (the one between May the third and May the fifth – aka the fourth of May in our house) etc etc etc. Regular readers – should such a concept somehow exist – know the drill.

There are few things in life which annoy me as much as any of these. Yet Match Of The Day magazine may have just joined the list. Specifically in the latest edition of their publication which included a ‘Best Mascot’ feature.

There was no Buzzette. Anywhere. Gunnersaurus, the Arsenal thing, was absent despite winning the recent World Cup of football mascots. Somehow. West Brom’s Boilerman was conspicuous by his absence. Perennial favourite Kingsley of Partick Thistle was there, although somehow languishing in third place. I’ll let JJ pick up the rest of the analysis with a direct copy paste…

Buzzette – absent. Kingsley – booted into Bronze medal position

JJ: Mate I’m scandalised to see that in Match of the Day magazine the force of nature that is Kingsley is only down at number three for their Mascot of the Year, merely one place above the utter atrocity that is the Euro 2020 effort, ahem, “Skillzy” (take my word for it mate, don’t even look the bastard up…). Not only that but I see that at number one is Wigan’s own Crusty the Pie- all well and good but I hate to break it to the chattering classes fawning over this “ironic and kitsch” dough based hero but Forfar Athletic’s “Baxter the Bridie” beat him to it by several years… 

As regards (shudder…) “Skillzy” I reckon the whole situation can be summed up in three words-anodyne..corporate..wank. Case rests m’lud… Rant over…

Baxter – Noooooooooo

Despite the advice not to, I’ve looked up Skillzy…..

It’s true. Everything JJ says and more. Bad enough that the mascot looks like a cross-eyed serial killer wearing a dead skin mask made from the face of one of his victims. Yet the most heinous of his crimes being use of the extraneous ‘z’ in…’Skillzy’.  Oh, and the top knot. It is a level of bland self-indulgence previously only enjoyed by the aforementioned coffee company. (Large will be fine, thank you). 

Crusty is good, to be fair, but for this new kid on the block to shoot straight in at number is symptomatic of today’s ‘quick fix’ society. Instant gratification syndrome. What a terrible example for any young children who may be reading. Granted, the target audience of the offending publication.

The likes of Buzzette, Kingsley and long established Gunnersaurus have put in all manner of hard yards over the years only to be dismissed in a heartbeat. I must admit to not being overly familiar with Baxter but am sure that Forfar fans will be as frustrated as I am this morning. Possibly.

And, on other news,Brentford official were pleased to say  #WelcomeNikos yesterday. A one year deal has been signed with the option of a second season. Could he be the final piece in the jigsaw? Roll on Saturday’s trip to Charlton where we find out. I’d love to talk more about his but , to quote JJ, “I’m scandalised” by the whole mascot thing.

Now, does anybody have a phone number for The Daily Mail….?

Skill’z’y – appearing on a ‘Wanted’ poster soon

Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells

Bees and Tigers share points in the proverbial game of two halves.

Brentford 1 Hull City 1. Whilst it wasn’t the 5-1 trashing of last season, the finish to this one was as exciting as the previous time these two teams had come together. Something all the more pleasing as it had started with all the excitement and enjoyability at a studio recording of Mrs. Brown’s Boys. Yet in the end, Ollie Watkins and Julian Jeanvier came within inches of giving Thomas Frank a second league win on the bounce following last Saturday’s despatch of Jonathan Woodgate’s Middlesbrough.  

There was good news from the off. Kamo and Said Benrahama named as available, albeit having to be content with a place on the bench. Bryan Mbuemo starting. As did Christian Nørgaard in the centre.  Yet if the announcement of the team had us salivating, the mood dipped with a first half performance that both teams may aswell have been dialled in from last Thursday. Chances were at a premium and that’s the polite version. The moment Mbuemo left his man for absolute dead and pointing the wrong way was a crown jewel atop an otherwise staid opening period. 

View from The Braemar… Mbuemo does his thing.

Yet as at Middlesbrough, the second half saw Brentford crank it up. Even if we did concede the opener. Jarod Bowen being given the freedom of the penalty box to fire home and give Hull City the lead on 52. It wasn’t pretty defending and looked worse on the highlights but at the same time proved the catalyst  for the Bees to wake up and start playing as we know they can.

Thomas Frank shuffled the pack and went for a Plan B. The defensive switch from three centre backs saw the midfield boosted. Josh Dasilva and that man Benrahma coming on to a heroes welcome in a seventieth minute double substitution. Little more than 60 seconds later and we were level. Sergi Canos performing wonders down the right hand side to place an inch perfect pass through to Ollie Watkins. The timing was magnificent. The calls for offside ignored. The goal stood as he swept home to joyful response from all around Griffin Park. 

Sergi has begun this season on fire. Ollie has his second goal in as many games. It could have been a third. Just moments later but for a quite wonderful save from Hull ‘keeper Long. Both teams pushed on and pushed up. Benrahma not quite fully fit but still had the crowd on their feet with every surging run. With every bit of trickery. The smile on his face returning although, if anything, he was perhaps guilty of trying to hard. His time will come and what a welcome return. Mbuemo grew into the game and it was great to see  Christian Nørgaard in action. 

But despite all the attacking intent on display as the game reached a gripping denouement, it was the post (officially, but looked like a fine save to me)  that kept Brentford in it following a fiercely fired free kick from Kamil Grosicki taken deep in the heart of Saunders territory (with thanks to the Middlesex Chronicle big book of 80’s alliteration). But the with the clock ticking onwards, we had our own chance. A beautiful cross onto the head of Julian Jeanvier with the goal gaping. Surely? Surely?? Surely??? Nooooooo!!!  If anything he headed it too well and angled his effort just past the post when straight into the back of the net would have produced the necessary outcome. 

It was an afternoon where football was played in a good spirit and even the players got in on the humour. There’s no-where to hide at Griffin Park, as Hull’s Kingsley discovered upon hearing the shout “You’re not Kingsley. There’s only one Kingsley….” He turned to confront the Braemar Road with an angry scowl on his face before the shout continued… “and he’s got spikey yellow hair”.  Cue the look of confusion turning into a smile of appreciation. At least, I hope that’s what it was. 

It was also an afternoon where I thought we were somewhat unlucky in the end, even if Hull manager Grant McCann did feel that “I think we deserved to win the game. I’ve seen it back and their goal is a yard offside. It’s really disappointing at this level to get a decision like that wrong.”. Hmmm. Perhaps upon review he may feel differently. Ollie’s goal WAS tight but it was onside.

Deserving to win is as false a concept as the possibility of a joke appearing in an episode of Mrs. Browns Boys. The Bees had their chances but couldn’t quite take them. There was no ill-will directed towards the team. This is still a group of players finding their feet together and adjusting to life after Maupay. Leeds United are next up and that one’s only going to be wonderful. Assuming you can afford the £37 away ticket prices. I have no doubt there’ll be plenty of scores to settle from the Elland Road side following the events of last season and, of course, the acquisition of our own new captain over the summer.

Enjoy that one. For now, time to regroup and reflect on the positives

Nick Bruzon

View from the Braemar. Captain Pontus cools down

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