The Diary

12 February 2005: White Hart Lane - Pain, Or Gain?

Back again, and only one question on my mind, really. Had your Dick yet? The domestic subbers have, thanks to our totally barking (but perfectly house-trained, honest) Welsh printer shoving them into the grateful arms of the Post Office yesterday afternoon. At least that?s what he told me when he appeared on our doorstep late this lunchtime. Should have been two hours earlier, actually, but as you?ll have probably gathered long before now, the twin concepts of Paul The Print and a trouble-free journey up the M50 are mutually incompatible, so no surprises there, then. I have to say, though, that the excuse proffered ? ?Too much traffic on that bloody motorway, see??- was a bit lame by Paul The Print standards. Could it be he?s finally running out of inspirational material at long last?

It goes without saying we?ll be outside White Hart Lane flogging away before tomorrow?s game, all four of us, so if you don?t subscribe, want to get a jump on other Dick readers, and fancy a bit of a pre-match natter while purchasing, feel free. And if you really fancy your chances of getting more bang for your buck, we?ll willingly redirect you to The Noise, who is particularly eager to hone his conversational skills on some new acquaintances right now.

More about tomorrow?s game below, but first, an outline of what?s been happening (or otherwise) Chez Wright this week. Tuesday, the perfect time to call in on the Bluenose Butcher, then casually bat the breeze with him about all things Blooze and Baggies. And, while I was at it, purchase the meat and eggs I?d come for in the first place ? but first, a quick tootle up to our local Boots to sort out those piccies I?d taken of The Fart and The Noise with Delia Smith outside Carrow Road that previous Saturday. I?d heard all about the new photographic service they offered, but didn?t take all that much notice at the time ? having a colour printer of our own, I didn?t think I?d need to bother with the commercial stuff, but when it suddenly gave up the ghost on us ? WRONG! So now it was off to see what their much-vaunted digital do-it-yourself, enlarge, crop and print thingy could do for my own general health and temper.

I don?t know if any of you have ever seen this sort of thing before, but the basic idea is, it?s digital camera technology made totally Dingle-proof. You feed into the slot your memory card from the camera, you pick what sort of electronic magic you want to perpetrate on your print(s), you select the pic(s) you want to muck around with, do it to your heart?s content ? then print off the results, and pay the nice man. Expensive, comparatively speaking, but dead handy, especially when your own printer happens to throw a hissy fit the minute it?s asked to actually do something.

And, as anyone who knows me at all will readily attest, I?m totally useless when it comes to wrestling mightily with the varied mysteries of information technology, but by touching the screen prompts as instructed, then listening to the step-by-step audio screed, I managed to selectively enlarge, crop and print two copies of the original without too much collateral damage being perpetrated on my sanity. In fact, once I?d finished, as I was handing over the dosh, the nice man casually mentioned how impressed he?d been by the way I?d sorted out the instructions; according to him, lots of people get so banjaxed by the blasted thing, they end up in meltdown mode, eventually. And, to my eternal shame, they?re usually of around my age, apparently. Just a vagrant thought, though. I wonder if they?ve let the technology loose on Wolverhampton yet?

To be fair, though, once I?d done, although there?s nothing quite like having overall control of your photography, and the final images, I was genuinely pleased with the finished result. Only one small gripe, though; no facility to electronically erase distracting or just plain unwanted elements from the final print. My fault, really, for banging off the picture so damned quickly, so as not to detain Delia too long; that?s what happens when you don?t check, you end up committing one of photography?s cardinal sins. In this particular case, I?m referring to what seems to be a sizeable bit of aluminium tubing protruding from The Fart?s lughole ? sod all I can do about it now, sadly. The tubing, I mean, not The Fart. On the other hand, perhaps I really ought to check that pic again. Could it be The Fart really DOES have a bit of metal tube sticking out of his left ear? Must check that one out tomorrow. Trouble is, what do I do if he HAS?

That sorted to my satisfaction, it was down to The Bluenose Butcher, as originally planned. It was when I first walked into the place, I realised I?d happened to gatecrash the middle of a juicy conversation our purveyor of prime pork was having with a tall bloke of around my age, or maybe a bit older. By twitching the old earlobes a bit, and by dint of ostentatiously pretending to have not the slightest interest in the subject-matter being discussed, I quickly began to realise that the hot topic was none other than our favourite football club. And, being the nosy sod I am (not to mention having something of a vested interest in the subject-matter being debated!) I just had to get involved, didn?t I?

Turned out the guy was using our meaty chum?s lair (and lughole) as a means of venting his spleen regarding various matters of great concern to supporters both on and off the pitch. Cor, didn?t we just bat the breeze, and by doing so, mutually set the whole Baggie world to rights? Not that I?m going to go into any great detail, mind; I?m more than well aware of the libel laws in this country, and what an adverse judgment could do to my finances, not to mention my housing status. The only aspect of English law where the onus is placed firmly upon the accused to prove innocence. Get indicted for anything else, murder, rape, nicking from a neighbour?s back garden, whatever, the burden of proof is always upon the prosecution to prove guilt, there?s always a presumption of innocence on the defendant during a criminal trial, unless/until they?re subsequently found guilty, of course. Suffice to say that as the guy made to leave, his parting shot to me was: ?Blimey, I could talk to you all afternoon about the Baggies?..? Don?t tell me about it.

On Wednesday night, it just had to be Wales v Hungary, didn?t it? Well, what with one of our finest turning out for the land of leeks and laver bread (don?t let the ?seaweed? origins of the latter put you off; it?s genuinely scrumptious, especially with piles of bacon, black pudding and sausages at breakfast time, and being iodine-rich, it doesn?t half you good as well), and The Mighty Zoltan strutting his stuff for the Eastern European side, then a good game should be had by all. Well, that was the theory, at any rate, but in the end, Wales, minus Jason Koumas, beat the Hungarians by two clear goals. Zoltan was playing up front for them, and at one point was damn unlucky not to score.

Mind you, it seems our manager has now gone into ?meltdown mode? about the Hungary national set-up and their curious interpretation of what constitutes a ?rest?. It seems Robbo, very mindful indeed of tomorrow?s game, had previously cut a ?gentleman?s agreement? with his Magyar counterpart that Zoltan, who?d had to fly back to Hungary to train just once with them, then fly with the bulk of the side to Cardiff, then?. aw, you get my drift. An awful lot of flying and tiredness, stress etc, for a game that was going to be played a hundred miles down the road anyway, and as far as Robbo was concerned, the idea was Zoltan would be strutting his stuff at Cardiff for 45 minutes only, by mutual agreement. My goodness, I wouldn?t have liked to be anywhere near him when the penny finally dropped; think ?Krakatoa? and ?eruptions? and you?ve just about fingered it, I reckon.

And another four are shown the door. Also on Wednesday, the hot news was Albion had terminated the contracts of Adam Chambers, Sekou Berthe, and Simon Miotto, with Midworth joining them today. Berthe never got a fighting chance to prove his worth, really, Miotto thought he had a chance of actually playing ? he said, at a Supporters? Club thrash recently he?d come to the club strictly on that very same understanding and no other ? and Adam Chambo will be emulating his brother by seeking his fortune elsewhere; as he is a genuinely skilled sort of chap, I reckon he won?t have too much hassle finding another club, and what?s more, doing very well indeed when he finally does.

And while we?re on the subject of moves, Leeds United finally got off the pot the same day by taking Rob Hulse on a loan basis until the end of the season, and with a view towards making the move permanent should everyone emerge from the experience grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Which is precisely what The Noise?s eldest daughter WON?T be doing right now! Being inextricably entangled amidst the hormone-riddled tentacles of puberty as she is right now, she didn?t half have it bad for the former Crewe striker while he was with us ? worshipped the very ground he trod on, she did. Remembering my own unconditional (and totally-unrequited) love-affair with The King when I was about her age, it will come as no surprise whatever to learn I fully recognise the symptoms; picture her wide-eyed worship of her personal god in the blue and white stripes, and you?ve got me around 40 years ago. I wouldn?t have liked to have been the one giving her the bad news, mind. Knowing Carly as I do, definitely a ?tin-hat-on-and-hope-for-the-best? job for the poor sod doing it!

Also earlier in the week, a bit of good news for a change; Albion 3, Liverpool 1. The reserves, I mean, and the Monday win means we?re now sixth in the Prem Reserves table, Northern section. A tremendous win for us when you actually sit down and think about it. Could it be we might be tempted into making the long trek to Kiddy again? And, another sizable chunk of feelgood factor ? if you want to see it that way, of course. There?s now a new date for the Southampton game previously postponed because of longstanding extra Cup commitments for both sides. Got your ears on, then, good buddies? The whole shooting-match has now been re-arranged for Tuesday, February 22, and we all go gathering nuts and may at 7.45 pm. That means two home fixtures on the spin, what with Blues coming to town just over a week later, and everything. Also, another bit of hot news; our game versus Chelski has also been sorted out, finally. The 16th of March is now the date of choice for our expected total tatering at the hands of Mourhino?s monied mob. Now here?s a thought; Charlton, then Chelski, within the space of around four days, with the expenditure of nigh-on ?100 for the pair, when you factor in the cost of add-ons to ticket expenditure. As the Yanks are fond of saying right now ? ?go figure?. Not that it matters much to us, mind. Sod it, we?ll be spending our Stamford Bridge forty quids on far more worthy causes.

So ?Jesus? Greening is going to be out this weekend, having now amassed a grand total of five bookings, then? Surprising, that; I genuinely hadn?t realised. Normally, The Noise advises us when someone?s sailing that close to the wind, but even he got it wrong last weekend. He thought four, and no more. Oh well, even people with both encyclopaedic and elephantine memories can get it wrong sometimes. And, without his hirsute but delightfully-entertaining services tomorrow, what do we do about it? Give Koumas his big chance to get whatever ails him right out of his system, then, for once, start him playing like the hugely-talented midfielder we know him to be?

Perhaps, while we?re at it, we could even contrive to ditch bloody Purse? Right now, he?s about as much a liability to our cause as the infamous Army Gas Corps in World War One was; just like Our Darren, they too were very much ?own goal? specialists ? it?s repeated failure to account for changing wind direction when releasing the chlorine that does it, see - and to a point where even the gaffe-prone modern-day US Army and Air Force could have watched and understood much.

Bearing the previous paragraph in mind, it probably won?t surprise you to hear that there are strong indications that both he and Houlty are currently propping up the bar in the Last Chance Saloon. Both their cards have been well and truly marked this week, and very publicly, too. I don?t need to spell out the reasons, do I? To put it bluntly, over recent weeks, our ?dynamic duo? have (unintentionally, I hope!) contrived to lose us more than enough League points to see us safe by now. I do tend to sympathise more with Houlty, mind, as it?s clearly his back problems contributing towards that recent string of abysmal performances (don?t forget, just two seasons ago, Baggies were seriously discussing the possibility of our custodian being given an England call-up, and us all moaning like hell when he was overlooked in favour of ?Calamity? James) and it?s for that reason, I?m inclined to cut him a lot more slack than his ex-Bluenose mate. Just one thought, still ? why didn?t we rest him once we?d won promotion, and with four games to spare? Could have saved us a deal of trouble this time round, methinks?

Bring Back Big Dave? Ideally, that?s what I would like to see happen, and in dollops, but from what I?ve seen in the press lately, it would seem our ginormous defender is not a happy bunny right now. Quite frankly, I?m puzzled; only last Sunday, I saw it mentioned in a national publication the lad was being offered (and had accepted) a three and a half year deal, and as you do in these instances, I reported it as such here. Turns out now I?d got it spectacularly wrong. Don?t blame me, though, blame a certain Sunday paper whom I?d thought would know better. If we?re genuinely serious regarding sending out the right vibes, we?re not exactly going about it the right way, are we? How can Robbo say ?Earn your spot? when he?s only had (I think) just one full game to properly assess his capabilities? I would hope that our leader is only waiting to see which way the Premiership mop flops before offering him some sort of a deal; should (when?) we take the big tumble, it?s blokes like Big Dave we?re going to need to form the mainstay of a boomerang back to the big time next season. And, at the considerable risk of labelling myself ?tedious?, it?s blokes like Big Dave you need in the trenches when the blood and snot?s really flying. Moral of the story? Sort it, Robbo. And quick.

With our next game being of the Cup variety, we?ll also be without the highly-talented services of both Chaplow and Richardson, who are well and truly cup-tied. And Greening, who is suspended thanks to that booking last week. Our need for midfielders being so pressing, I?m now left wondering if Lloyd Dyer might get the managerial nod in some capacity or other. Sure, perhaps the Prem was a leap too far in some respects, but in the country?s most prestigious knockout competition, anything can happen; slot the lad in somewhere, and we?d have a lot to gain, but not all that much to lose by doing so, and things going pear-shaped.

Talking of which, what would be better? A rapid ejection tomorrow, or a possible tilt at the sixth round at the expense of a certain fiery but balding ginger-headed gentleman we know? Of one thing I'm certain; given a half-decent chance of doing so, there are not a few among our ranks who would postively relish the chance of cordially inviting our previous leader to The Hawthorns, then well and truly stomping on Forest, and watching his face light up. Not a new observation, really, and nothing anyone can touch me for either; Clem more or less admitted to similar thoughts in today's E and S. Could we do it? Well, there's certainly a hell of an incentive to turn the North London club over against all the odds, but as to whether we could or not, I do have my doubts, Purse and Houlty being just two of them! And you do have to think about how much impact a cup run might have on whatever lingering chances we do have of getting out of this mess. It's all well and dandy to get to Cardiff, as per Millwall, and the money's nice, but it couldn't half cost us in other ways.

So what about Tottenham, the borough, I mean? Well, for starters, it just ain?t Tottenham any longer, more Haringey, according to all the stuff I dug up about the place tonight. Formed in 1965 from the former boroughs of Hornsey, Tottenham and Wood Green, and occupying around 11.5 square miles of north London, it?s home to a multi-cultural community of around 216,000 people. Not only does it boast a football club, Alexander Palace nearby is where the joys of television were first inflicted upon an unsuspecting public way back in 1936. Around that time, The Beeb was presented with a straight choice between Logie Baird?s somewhat torturous way of transmitting images, and the EMI-Marconi mode of doing things, so what they did in the end was turn over two studios to broadcast both systems simultaneously on a trial basis, and let them scrap it out between themselves. Studio A was equipped with the Marconi-EMI ?Emitron? system, while Baird installed his mechanical systems in Studio B. The result? An ?away win? for Marconi; their Emitron cameras proved far superior to Baird?s cumbersome film technique, which never developed beyond an experimental stage.

As I understand it, one of the main snags with Baird?s lay in the sheer amount of lighting needed to register an image at all, this quickly heating up the studio to sauna-like temperatures. Additionally, and partly because of the inferior picture definition provided by Baird?s system, performers had to shovel enough theatrical ?slap? on their faces to resurface the M5 in order to register on the cameras at all, and because the Baird system was mechanical in nature, artistes were somewhat restricted as to what they could actually do on screen when performing. I do have vague memories from years ago of seeing a documentary on the subject where the late Arthur Askey (who was one of the first TV performers at Alexandra Palace) re-enacted precisely what he had to do preparatory to making a broadcast as per the Logie Baird way of doing things.

In the end, the Emitron system won out, was adopted throughout, and went on to broadcast to the London area only until the start of the war, when it was taken off the air for the duration. Another vagrant thought: Nazi Germany also developed TV around the same time, and a better service than ours, remarkably, with very little of the Nazi imprint upon it. Whatever Goebbels was doing around that time, it certainly wasn?t messing with German TV output, Theirs remained on air during the war, curiously enough. I suspect the main reason it was left alone by the Nazi party was because Hitler, being not possessing the best scientific brain even at the best of times (when presented with the chance to properly research and develop a German nuclear device, he was most dismissive of the idea, declaring it to be a product of ?Jewish science? and therefore totally beyond the pale as far as he was concerned), never quite grasped the precise nature and/or possibilities of his new toy.

Famous people emanating from those there parts? Colin Chapman, founder of Lotus cars, started his Lotus workshop in Tottenham Lane by Hornsey Station. Two ex-Goons, Peter Sellers and Spike Milligan, both now shuffled off their respective mortal coils, of course. Then there?s Bruce Kent, famous anti-nuclear cleric, as per CND and those massive marches in the sixties and eighties. Some might want to twin him with Heath Robinson, an eccentric of a different sort of craziness altogether, those marvellously-lunatic devices he ?designed? most famously around the time of the First World War. I have a book in my possession containing not a few of his drawings made during that conflict, one of which you could deem to be a precursor of ?biological warfare?. A lunatic (and rather amusing) method of using loud noise to ?persuade? flu germs to migrate from the British trenches to those inhabited by their German adversaries, ?tis true, but one that would most certainly be classed a ?weapon of mass destruction? by anyone?s lights today. Perhaps that?s just what we need right now - a Heath-Robinson-type figure to highlight the sheer lunacy of it all.

And Finally?? Nothing to do with us, thank goodness, but I thought I?d chuck this one in anyway, if only because of the considerable ?cringe? factor it will generate out there. Before I start, though, make sure you?re properly sitting down, as I don?t want to be lumbered with the guilt-trip of causing someone to keel over with shock because of what I?m about to relate being a bit grisly. Ready? Right, here goes, then. Here was me thinking Dingles were ?state-of-the-art? as far as the ?D?Oh!? factor was concerned ? but now I know better, and trust those rugger buggers on the other side of the border to prove it. Seems a Welsh rugby fan actually cut off his OWN TESTICLES to celebrate Wales beating England, according to Tuesday?s Daily Mirror.

Apparently, the guy was so convinced that England would win last Saturday's rugby match, he told fellow drinkers at a social club, "If Wales win, I'll cut my balls off." Friends thought he was joking, but after the game - Wales's 11-9 victory over England at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff was their first home win over England in 12 years - he then went home, severed both his family jewels with a sharp knife, then walked the 200 yards back to the bar with the detached (and very bloody, no doubt!) dangly bits in his hands to show the shocked drinkers precisely what he had done.

Brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. You won?t be too surprised to learn he?s now in hospital, and in a rather serious condition! And, with a whole crowd of psychiatrists eagerly awaiting his recovery so they, too, can have ?meaningful words? when he finally does? Thinking further about the ongoing love-affair all Welsh medics (many years ago ? or maybe not all that many, come to think about it - lads could quite easily gain admission to medical school on the basis of C?s and D?s at A Level, provided they were talented rugger-buggers as well) seem to have with the funny-shaped-ball game, might even cause a rugby scrum all of its very own round that bed, I reckon. Only one other thought to add to that one, really. Come on, Dingles, local pride and all that. Surely YOU can do better?

 - Glynis Wright

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