The Diary

01 May 2003: Who's The Dick Ed In The Black?

The first day of the fifth month, and, so rumour has it, the time when we can all indulge in outdoor sex, should we wish to risk upsetting all those little old ladies peering somewhat goggle-eyed from behind net curtains, not to mention the likelihood of nettle-rash caused by placing one's bare posterior in closer proximity to a clump of the little blighters than is strictly desirable! Not that I'm recommending you chuck off both outer-garments and decorum with gay abandon; despite the lengthening days and the mercury hitting the seventies on some occasions, the evenings are still rather chilly, and I wouldn't want to be blamed for making you all catch cold, now, would I?

Thoughts of suffering because of something normally regarded as pleasurable by the rest of the population brings me quite neatly to Saturday, and our final away trip of the season, to Ewood Park, Blackburn. Got your referee's kit sorted out, yet? Thanks to the good offices of a local match official (now long-retired, which, perhaps, is just as well, really, as one of his old tops proudly sports the logo of The Football League on the breast pocket!) us Dick Eds are all equipped with the regulation outfit of black shirt, black shorts, and socks; what's more, three of us have since tried ours on, and I have to admit they fit really well. So well, The Fart and I recently 'modelled' them for a local newspaper! The only unknown waiting to be factored into the equation is The Noise. Because he lives in Darkest Stoke, we've not been able to ascertain whether his outfit will fit or not, so he'll just have to take pot-luck on Saturday. Mind you, even under normal circumstances, it takes the manpower and resources of an entire NHS operating theatre team to surgically extract The Noise from that awful green coat and thick woolly-pully he wears to matches, so there's still more than an even chance we won't be seeing him in his temporary guise!

Talking about the end of the season, trust former GD Stroller and resident Statto Dave Watkin to come up with one of those 'worst-case scenarios' so beloved of emergency planners and doom-merchants everywhere. Nothing to do with SARS, I hasten to add; you stand more chance of snuffing it from common or garden flu or a road accident than you do from that particular malady. Not our favourite football team, either - I reckon after this season's imbroglio, nothing could happen that could possibly be worse. No, this time, it's our fish-loving neighbours from just down the road sweltering under Dave's spotlight, so here's the deal. What Dave's been doing recently is taking a tongue-in-cheek look at the remaining Premiership games, and trying to predict some results; to cut a long story short, this weekend, he's forecast the bewhiskered and blubberified ones to draw 1-1 with Sunderland, and The Hammers to do it for Glenn Roeder with a win over Chelsea by the odd goal in two. The following Sunday, Dave tips Bolton to beat Boro - their poor form on the road being the deciding factor - and Charlton to dip to Fulham 2-1. Meanwhile, at Elland Road, a revitalised Leeds United triumph over Deadly Doug's lot by three goals to one, but at St. Andrews, a match against West Ham, delayed by crowd trouble, seems to be heading for stalemate when Robbie Savage inexplicably puts the ball past his own keeper! The final score? Blues 1 West Ham 2! This, of course, would relegate You-Know-Who! After all the indignities we've suffered this term, I'd definitely have that as a consolation prize! There's a bit more to it than that, but anyone wanting to see Dave's workings plus his estimation of how the final table would look - ooh, sounds a bit like maths homework, doesn't it? - I'll gladly pass them on.

It's looking as though the West Midlands Police are having a slight fit of the vapours at the thought of our Dingle friends competing in the play-offs in around nine days time, and, to be honest, I really don't blame them. Because of that Reading win the other night, the brain-deads will - erm, - 'entertain' either Reading or Sheffield United for the first leg - there's a history of bad blood between The Dingles and Warnock's side - and constabulary concerns revolve around the possibility of live TV coverage, in which case, the kick-off time might be as late as 5.30 pm. Should this happen, it gives their followers lots more time to increase their blood-alcohol level to the point where you're looking for blood in alcohol rather than the other way round, and that's why the plods are so nervous. Because of this, the boys in blue will be pushing for the earlier kick-off time of 12. 30, the expectation being that as licenced premises don't normally open until eleven, the brain-deads will still be as stated on the tin, but relatively sober; what you do about supermarkets and off-licences in the vicinity still remains to be seen.

The moral of the story, then? Simple. Any followers of Premiership outfits that happen to be reading this - you've lost us from the division, mainly because we simply couldn't hack it at that level, but you loved our supporters, by all accounts, and you'd like to see us back before too long. That's fine and dandy, but just think what you might get in our place, kiddies; the evidence is there for all to see. Do you really want our uncouth and drunken neighbours running riot amongst your prawn sandwiches and theatre-audiences? How much will it cost to arrange therapy (and compensatory pony and/or ballet-dancing lessons) for poor, traumatised Tarquin and Jemima? Should the gold-and cack persuasion finally achieve their aim, how long will it be before you start echoing the words of Joni Mitchell's 'Big Yellow Taxi', "You don't know what you've got till it's gone.."? Believe you me, we might have been useless, but just look at the alternative - and it could be at a ground near you pretty soon?

And finally? A big 'Well Done' to Doc Hallan, avid reader of this column, former GP of mine, and Albion's current part-time medic. According to tonight's E and S, he's beaten off some pretty stiff opposition at internet poker to win himself a trip to Las Vegas, ?10K spending (gambling?) money, and the chance to pot a cool ?1.25 million in a Ladbrokes casino there. Blimey, winning that lot makes working for the NHS look a bit mundane, doesn't it? Just one thing, Doc. Should you come away with the lolly, don't forget your old mates back in Blighty, there's a love; in fact, should you need any assistance at all spending the prize, I'm just waiting for your call?

 - Glynis Wright

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