Tag Archives: Stone Roses

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

29 Nov

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.

Screen Shot 2017-03-26 at 08.35.21

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.

spy_who_loved_me_main-review

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.

Band banned

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