Anything else, Sir?

Listening to Interpol – Our Love To Admire*
Justice, eh? Never quite rears its head against Fergie and co. does it?

Now I know every man and his dog who doesn’t support Manchester United have this same grumble, but ever thought that’s for a reason? Vidic’s afternoon should have been over inside 5 minutes in the League Cup Final, yet it wasn’t.

You could(n’t) argue that it was too early in the game. But I had always thought the laws of the game were in use from the kick off, but apparently not. Hey ho. What do I know? Last man foul, goal scoring opportunity= red card. Well if you’re not in the red of Manchester United that is. In a world where the governing body has a silent MU infront of it, their crest offers immunity from everything of course. Everything. Ask Gary Neville. Or Roy Keane.

If the guy in the Last Boy Scout was a ManYoo player, he would have probably got away with a finger wag at best.

The typically farcical refereeing displays are the norm of course now, and Fergie somehow still has the gall to criticise refs (I’m not accusing him of doing it here). Injury-time is a favourite you’ll remember.

Decisions, Decisions.

*Listening to Angus and Julia Stone – And The Boys EP*

Today was the day Kings of Leon tickets hit the e-shelves for their big Hyde Park gig. I say today, it was for about 10 seconds. I say hit the e-shelves, I’m not even sure they opened the doors. How do sixty-odd thousand tickets get sold so quickly? And how come I was sat here early and still got about as close to getting a ticket as Roy Keane will to Manager Of The Year? (Actually, most of Norfolk will vote for him at this rate.)

I suppose Virgin Media could take the brunt of my annoyance. When downloading iTunes again the other day it turned out it was actually quicker to walk to California, set up a meeting with Steve Jobs, tell him the iPad is pointless, set up another meeting this time with Steve Wozniak to ask for an iTunes disk and the walk back again. On my hands. Through custard. Carrying Andy Fordham.

Alas today, the internet connection seemed OK, good almost. So now who could I blame?

Twenty-five minutes of unavailable, unavailable, unavailable, the screen finally succumbed to a little red bit of text saying SOLD OUT. I got up at 8.30 for this. On a day off. And I’ve only had one coffee today.

Keyboard Wars

Listening to Air Traffic – Fractured Life

This week I took on the task of reviewing a classic album. What better than Heartbreaker by Ryan Adams I thought. The fact that he has a fair few fanatics didn’t come into it until one came across my little piece. Now I opened by claiming Adams is a genius, Peter something or other- we’ll call him Petey- deemed the article to be mean [(awwww) but it quite clearly isn't].

Erm…

He then went on to say things ranging from “leave it to the professionals” to “half-wit” to “Go back to cleaning out the frialator”. (Surely only Americans can come up with the word “frialator”, hands up who knows what one is? You can put it down now Petey.) Just be sure to show me the way you find best to clean them though Big P.

Tw*tter

*Listening to Fanfarlo – Reservoir*

There was a MAJOR decision to make today, namely what had irked me so much you’d want to hear about it.

Scenario 1) Imagine the scene- It’s Thursday, 11pm-ish and we’re indoors at the pub. What you wouldn’t expect to see at this time then, is a guy wearing a beanie AND sunglasses. You’re not skiing, idiot. Who in their right mind thinks that is acceptable. I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he’s dressed up for a birthday or something. On second encounter (I say encounter, I merely witnessed him again) he was sat, slouched in his “coolest” looking pose, glasses still on. Oh. Dear. No. Need. Go home and think about what you’ve done.

Given that is about as far this post will go, I opted for the second.

Twitter.

When did that become so inane?