“Let’s just look at it one more time shall we. Oh go on then, roll the tape”
Derby Match Hero and, indeed, clear and obvious Sky Man of the Match Wayne Rooney, stood like Jesus Christ himself (at least a modern day minted sort of messiah with a potato head and a Chloé-clad Mary waiting at the stable with the four-by-four), back arched theatrically, arms adrift and a tell-tale bulge in his back pocket. He had deservedly won the game for Manchester against their noisy neighbours, Bastard manchester city, with a goal that journalists will not tire of talking about for some fifteen to twenty years from now. These are the moments for which one staggers into a profession like this one. Not the over-sugared tea, the slightly too old fig rolls, the occasional unwanted glimpse of Daphne toiling over the malfunctioning photocopier in her slightly-too-short ra-ra skirt, the deadlines that creep up, the beery breath of one’s colleagues, the terrible trouble with adverbs, the need for one last cliché before bed. Then this. A moment of pure pleasure, of bliss, of joy. It’s just so good to know that the goodies have won again AND THE NOISY ONES HAVE BEEN SILENCED FOR EVER!
TACTICS TRUCK - Picking balls from strange places
|New balls, please|
|Mike: doing his talking on the pitch|
|"Over ere, Shaun, I'll show you me sprinklers"|
House & Home - This month Steven Ireland shows us his unrivaled Ottoman silk worm underpant collection, his saphire and steel renaissance garden shed (with ruby crusted rake and cinamon flavoured authentic Alaskan water sprinklers) and walks us around his palatial new crinoline faux-bedouin tent four-poster bed.