Cheryl Coles Tattoos and English Left Backs in General

Last week, in the wake of the unveiling or leaking or however it was carried out, the revelation of Cheryl Coles new arse tattoo inspired me to write a pithy status about it on facebook. I came up with it on my Sunday shift at work and improved it I thought as the shift wore on before finally when I emerged in the daylight at 2.30 from an 8 and a half hour warehouse slog I posted it on my facebook account and waited for a reaction.

But nobody bloody liked it.

Now its something of a hot topic of conversation in pubs and in online group chats on things like Viber about the level of interest a post or photo can get on the likes of facebook. 10 likes seems to be the base level for acceptability. Any less and its as well not being there. A massive fail.

The status was

“Cheryl Cole likes a tattoo to celebrate English footballs full backs eh? First ashley Cole, now Danny rose. Surely next she will get a tattoo depicting multiple images of a bandy legged ex Scotland and Aberdeen goalie in tom hardys mask from the last batman film.”

70704390_cole_20941cNow I think that is a good bit of patter but it appears that no one understands it (or, you know, thinks its shite) so I will take the opportunity to explain it.

Lets kick off with the Mrs C tattoo she has on the back of her neck from when she was still with her husband. Her husband being (C)Ashley Cole, an English full back.

cherlShe now has enormous roses on her back and arse, its really rather horrible I think, but quite clearly its her own wee homage to Danny Rose, who happens to be Tottenhams new first choice full back after being papped out on loan to other teams in seasons past.

So thats two English full backs etched on her skin, what will next trip to the tattooist deliver?

leighton,%20jim%201998aexclusive-image-of-tom-hardy-as-bane-in-the-dark-knight-rises-102438-00-470-75I thought she could get a few images of the bandy legged ex Scotland, Aberdeen, Manchester United and Hibs (and more) goalie; Jim Leighton (left) and team it up with the mask worn by Tom Hardys oddly spoken Batman baddie in Dark Knight Rises, you know, Bane (right) Leaving something that kind of looks something like………

This?

leighton,%20jim%201998a

 

See? Its a hilarious image that you were supposed to piece together in your minds eye from the clues I gave so that it depicted Everton and England left back Leighton Bane’s or rather Baines.

Oh I laughed when I came up with that, laughed and laughed at how clever I was. She could get it above the roses but below the neck writing, it kind of looks like a cross, folk get crosses all the time……

Right, yer all right, its a pish joke. Time tae move on.

Great Scottish Run

On Wednesday I ran in the Kilmaurs Gala 5k which I did last year in the run up to taking part in the great Scottish Run half marathon. Which got me thinking I should maybe write a bit about how my training is going for this year’s 13.2mile endurance test (not great) and such things and see how it goes.

However when I brought up the posts list in my WordPress app it appears I never got round to finish writing about my 5×50 challenge that I done earlier this year. In fact, checking the blog I covered half of it. 25 days. So I thought, bollocks, this will take longer than I thought and would probably be easier on the computer so now, on Sunday, here is a brief rundown of scant memories of I can remember of the other half mixed in with full reports of actual days that I did write out in draft versions of posts for that second half plus a look at my efforts at training since.

Well, the 5×50 thing I finished. Did all fifty days. Never missed one and for that I am quite proud. Didn’t particularly like doing it and don’t think I would do it again either. I felt most days I just wanted to get my five k out the way. Managed to get my time down to around 21 mins. Never cracked 20 which is disappointing but I found it really hard considering it was day in day out, and falling ill during it but not letting it stop me I feel went against my chances for a sub 20 run (of course not missing a day even though I was choked with the flu or something was impressive I thought). The second half did throw up some noteworthy moments.

I had two stand up gigs during the second half, so instead of whatever I had been listening to the day before on my mp3 player I recorded myself reading my set and listened to that so it got into my head a bit. Worked quite well actually though I do wonder why my wife married me because I have a really fucking whiny voice. I ran in a monsoon, I got close to 20 minutes, as i have mentioned, but not close enough. In fact….

Between days 34 and 39 this happened, i know this because I must have typed it up at the time.

Day 34

Today was the fucking pits. Due to circumstances and downright stubborness there was only one time i could go out and that time was when it was absolutely pissing out the heavens. I managed it though. My times are a bit dodgy (it includes one 2 and a half minute kilometre which I would assume I cant do) because the rain was so heavy that my clothes were soaked through within two minutes of going out and as such i think the running apps gps might have got a wee bit fucked with the rain. I was worried that the phone would be gubbed and need a night in rice but actually it survived. the earphones might not, we will find out in the morning.

There was quite a lot of puddles on the road, and i managed to find them all, i had to ditch my specs and as i ran through the car park at Annanhill someone said “hi John” and i dont know who it was. And finally as i headed back up the Bonnyton Road, through the arch that floods i experienced for the first time being soaked by passing cars pouring water over me like a waterfall. Its actually very sore as big dollops of mucky water belt you in the face and go in your mouth. Tremendous.

Day 35

When I got in from last night’s run in the pishing rain my dad phoned me about going running with him. I had mentioned I would like to go to with him to the running thing he does on a Saturday morning. I didn’t know a whole lot more about it but I did know he went on Christmas day just passed so it must be decent.

*there is a logic in there somewhere.

So I got up at 8 to be picked up at half past. Some cereal, a big drink and two rennies in me prepared for a good run. Turns out, as he tells me in the car on our way up, this is a sorta big thing called parkrun where you sign up online, get a barcode which is your racing identity. Each time you go you do your run then get your placing barcode (which is a wee Tesco clubcard type thing you get when you finish) and your personal barcode scanned and all the results are put online and your progress is tracked.

Day 36

Busy day today so squeezed in a run in the morning. I decided to go the same run from Friday’s monsoon to see if it was 5k since there would be no water problems with the phone and hence no GPS problems with the app. However toward the end I forgot where I went so it became a bit of a waste of time. I maintain it must have been at least 5k as I was going like fuck cos of the weather and still ran for 25 mins. Must have been…..

Day 37

I set myself a target of under 20 minutes which so far I haven’t beat. I got close (ish) once bit now it seems further away than ever. I thought Saturday at Pollok Park might have been the one, what with running past folk but it wasn’t. My last idea is to start going for longer runs so that when I drop down to 5 again it will feel like a sprint. It might work. I started this today by doing just over 7 and a half k by instead of scuttling up the embankment onto the cylce path continuing on the road that leads to the fork in the road that leaves Killie and either goes to Kilmaurs or Stewarton and cutting off through the new houses along the western road and then around the old Annanhill pitch n putt which is much missed by me who now lives up in that neck of the wood. (i fondly remember my dad trying to show off by chipping his ball over the big tree on the eighteen and fucking it up and losing the ball years and years ago).

Oh and then home.

Day 38

More distance as I headed down toward the old abbitoir and back up through the town. Saw an old shoe on my travels. Didn’t warrant stopping for a photo though it was folded up for some reason. Done a little over 8k. Hope this idea works. Today I also ran without a jacket for the first time in this challenge. Its gems of details like that which makes this whole blogging thing worthwhile I think.

Day 39

Not a lot of time today and have to give me father in law a loan of my motor so meet him in crosshouse and run home past my work at Moorfield. Shite run.

IMG_20130518_103550So that leaves 11 days. I did two runs which were under 21 minutes. One of which i had to tie my laces twice which i am certain would have pulled me under the 20 mins, but it didnt so can’t claim it. Done Parkrun in Eglinton on day 49 in the rain which is very muddy and at one corner you hit a mud puddle which sees your foot plunge in and the muck go over into your shoe, but i got my picture on their facebook site that run so suppose every cloud. Day 50 i did a fairly routine run in an routine time, came home to zero fanfare and er, thats it. Plus other stuff, i dont know. I am boring myself here. Point more or less is, I never really lost any weight, and didnt really look any different at the end from what i did at the beginning apart from some fairly decent looking calves, i was pretty tired though.

Since then I havent ran nearly enough, went back to the parkrun a few times but the other week there i decided to give a good go at running for a bit further so ran from Prestwick to Troon along the cycle path and then back out the road to the airport and back to Prestwick. It was about 6 miles however for a fair bit of the way there was no pavement and I was shiting myself as i held up a line of traffic coming out of Troon who had to wait til no cars were coming the other way to get past me.

Then on Tuesday, the day before Kilmaurs i ran five miles while i waited on my motor getting its MOT. It failed quite spectacularly but thats another story.

Great Scottish Run is on 6th October apparently, better get my finger oot.

Our Baby is Late, Just Like its Dad

Well, looks like there wasn’t a 90th minute winner in this game of pregnancy. We are now past the due date and with no sign of the kiddo yesterday a golden goal in extra time will be needed to finish the match. At this point in time we won’t even consider the end of the two week extra time and the midwifes inducing Natalie to bring on the labour which for the sake of extending this painful cup final analogy we will call penalty kicks.

It would seem we are playing the old waiting game.

But the bags are packed, the nursery decorated, cot built, baby monitor set up, moses baskets (one in the living room and one in the bedroom) are set for action, pram is in its space under the stairs and its tyres blown up to the advised pressure, isofix base thing fitted in the back seat of the car, clothes are all washed, even the coming out of the hospital clothes for Natalie and the baby are hanging in the new wardrope ready for me to take in with me so i dont fuck that up. Its all taken care of.

But we wait.

I guess i could shine up the metal work of the pram, so it looks nice. Or i could get the steraliser out in the kitchen and have a wee trial run with that and the bottles for feeding. I could even read one of the parenting books i have so far dodged for 9 and a half months (and now a day ontop of that). We could decide on a name, or rather names since we dont know what we are having.

We could do all these things as we wait but we arent.

We are just waiting, we have tried all the things they tell you but so far no joy, it will come when its ready. I am quite enjoying it actually, Natalie not so much. Its not too much pressure on me, mostly i am doing the things i usually do, working and watching the telly, Natalie is off her work on maternity which initially i was fairly jealous about but she is mostly knackered from carrying around the bump and needs a pee every twenty minutes so i suppose the novelty will wear off soon. I will get my paternity fortnight soon, the two of us working out how to look after a wee toaty baby.

I am looking forward to it.

But I am not excited, I rarely get excited. Not a very excitable person really, I can appear quite dour. Wonder if my kid will be like that. If it is Natalie will be demented. Thats away in the future though, now as I try to remember the advice given at the anti natal classes we attended about how to deal with labour (there isnt a lot of info about a fathers perspective at those incidentally, certainly not the ones i was at, so you have to improvise a bit from the mothers perspective info) and put it in practice when the waters break (if they do) and mop up the gallons of stuff that comes out (imagination getting away from me, hopefully) before packing us all up in the car and heading out to the maternity unit at the hospital. Surely its within the week?

Not sure where i am going with this now, think i will just press publish, go see what Natalie is doing. Its Saturday night, T plus one day (is that how it is described?) and since its after 11 its unlikely we will see a wee mucky baby arrive before due date plus two so the wait isnt near to being over. This is frustrating writing this, more frustrating than just sitting about waiting.

Waiting….hmmmmm.

Hullo

Been a wee while since was last on here writing. Done a fair bit of everything since last posted. Like, eh, like, got my wife pregnant for one.

Also done some other stuff and if i get the finger out i will write some stuff up here. Got a recap of a thing i did 3 years ago started, probably finish that and post it and them i might  try catch up on some more up to date stuff. Like, you know, the upcoming parenting stuff and a few gigs i have done in past wee while.

In the meantime, here is a picture of some great graffiti i saw in Gatehouse of Fleet. On one brick it says “I ❤ SMACK” (embarrassed a wee bit i used the arrow and the three to make a love heart there) and on another brick it says PHALLUS. A great word. Took me back to university where Andy Walker and I discussed its power as a putdown. Surely better and withering than calling someone a dick? Maybe not.

A Diary in 53 Parts: Part 12: Week 11

Where i got a gig and went to the theatre.

Sunday 11th March 2012

Went into work at half past 7 to tell them i couldnt do the overtime i signed up for becuase i had furniture being delivered. Gaffer seemed a bit taken aback that i showed up to say i couldnt make it but the reason was i couldnt find the phone number. The furniture arrived pretty early and i set about building it. Couch was bloody heavy and akward, the bookcase on its side sideboard unit type thing was less heavy and akward but more hard work to put together. Done it though and celebrated with a bowl of porridge. This was the first time i have ever made porridge, real porridge with salt and water not the girly sugar and milk rubbish. Did a good job, cooking seems to come naturally to me, i can add it to my repertiore now, baked potatoes, porridge and of course, cheesy beanos.

Monday 12th.

Got offered a stand up gig in Paisley later this month to go with the one in May in Killie, good stuff, i said yes. Its a charity gig put on by a student, or a bunch of students, im not quite sure. My big mate Alan Provan (his blog) got me involved as he is doing a set at it and suggested me for it too. Decision now is whether to write a whole new bit or just a wee new bit to replace the out of date Scheme stuff and add it to my seagull stuff which i did last year.

Tuesday 13th.

For my lunch today i took the new Jamaican Jerk pot noodle. Big fan of pot noodles so i am, often thought about setting myself a wee task to see how many o could eat in one sitting (it would be chicken and mushroom one i would use in such an event as they are easiest on the belly even though i am partial to a Bombay Badboy) but as yet havent got round to it. I think i could do 4 pretty easy but might hit the wall at 5. Not sue if thats impressive or pathetic, guess there is only one way to find out….

Later on i wrote up the blog post about me being on the telly, not going to link it again but this will be the last wee plug, if you want to read it i am sure you have the necessary skills to navigate away from this to it, do it, i believe in you.

Wednesday 14th.

Watched Chelseas champions league game tonight. Football players have tiny wee shinguards nowadays. John Terry plucked a pair out his socks when he got subbed which looked to me to be about the saze of a smart phone. What exactly is that protecting? I remember when it was big sondico things with ankle supports and bones down the front which pretty much protected your full leg and before that i remember reading or seeing a shinnys advert where they just stuck old newspapers down there for protection. Totey wee things now though. I think they all wear them now, seems pointless.

Thursday 15th.

Not much going on today, got quite excited about the cup final on Sunday after reading some of the stuff in the Daily Record, plenty to be positive about.

Friday 16th.

Got ridiculous cramp in both my legs after playing football while lying watching tv on the couch with the wife. felt it coming on in one leg and tried to shift my weight to put it off, straighten my leg out a bit, didnt work and the cramp set in my hamstring like a lightning bolt. As i wriggled to get off the couch the other one cramped up too and i screamed in my own living room. Down on the ground writhing in pain i got zero sympathy. Warm down essential from now on, getting too old.

Saturday 17th.

A good few years ago now, when Berti Vogts was Scotland manager and James MacFadden was the cheeky boy, Scotland made the playoffs to reach the major championship at that season end. We drew Holland and ultimately didnt make due to a 6 nil second leg defeat that left us narrowly squeezed out on a 6-1 aggregate. The one came in a 1 nil home first leg at Hampden which i was at.

The reason i tell you this is that the night previous to that great day (when Scotland scored, shamefully i took that as a cue to glug down the bottle of Bud i had smuggled in as the crowd were all on their feet, post patch i flashed a bus of dutch supporters and also had the last bottle of Buckfast to pass my lips that night on the bus back into the city from Hampden) Natalie and i took in a show at The Kings Theatre in Glasgow. Oh What a Night it was and starred Kid Creole i think, maybe Sonia too though that would seem like something i would remember. It might or might not be an omen but today, the day before the big League Cup final, i found myself taking Natalie back to The Kings, this time to see Spamalot! It was really good.

A Diary in 53 Parts: Part 11: Week 10

Where I went viral and was spotted everywhere.

Sunday 4th March.

Up early on a Sunday to clear some space in the conservatory to let young Craig in to wallpaper the “feature” wall in there. I say feature, its effectively the only wall considering the rest of it is just glass. I would like to say i was instrumental in the whole decorating process, I wasnt though. I sat through the front room dicking around on the laptop. Got told that our wedding features in the Ayrshire Wedding Directory by someone who picked it up at the Ayrshre wedding fair at Rugby Park. Did know about it becuase i wrote the article that goes with it but was nice to be spotted.

Monday 5th.

Made myself a baked potato for dinner tonight but wasnt entirely sure how to do this. I wanted to make a real baked potato in an oven with tin foil and everything, not as i have been doing for the last few years, microwaving it and passing that off as a baked tattie. To fix the problem i had with not knowing how to do it i did what anyone does when they wan to know something. I googled it. There is a fair amount of chefs and cooks and the likes out there who can fair spina yarn about baked tatties i will tell you. To my surprise the majority tell you not to use tin foil otherwise you just steam your potato, you could know me over with a feather at that, instead they tell you to rub it with olive oil and some salt before bunging it onto the shelf for an hour and a bit. Dead easy, should have done this ages ago.

While it cooked i flung some tuna mayo and chillies together and when it was ready i ate it. This however isnt a cook book or recipe blog so i will tell you what else i did this fine monday. I went to a Killie Trust meeting then came home and watched the Scottish Fitba documentary Game for Europe while writing snarky things on facebook and drinking a bottle of March of the Penguins beer which was quite nice.

Tuesday 6th.

I have went over in fine detail what happened when i appeared on tv on this Tuesday here so no point rehashing it again. Just click away if you want a read. When i got home from my big night out at the BBC i had the other Christmas dinner pot noodle which was absolutely horrendous when you knew what to expect, i doused it in soy sauce though which made it taste like nothing and therefore edible. Watched myself back on the TV debate thing at night and watched as my phone lit up with the pish getting quite literally ripped out me for my appearance on tv. You have got to laugh.

Wednesday 7th.

The ribbing didnt stop last night, it continued at work where i was called brokeback killie for a bit on account of my check shirt. After work i took my wedding album down to my grans house to let her see it. My gran is 92 years old now and is looking well. She is one of the most remarkable people i have ever known, she has a thousand stories, sometimes she tells you ones you have heard before and sometimes you get one you havent. tonight i got both, I had heard a few times about how my grampa never actually left the mainalnd during the war, however he was on the boat to Normandy but it was called back, but she also told Natalie and I about how her dad died in 1940 and told it like it was yesterday. What a memory. Sensational woman.

Thursday 8th.

Quiet day apart from the fact our wedding picture appeared in the Standard that came out today. Well last night it came out. You can get it loads of places on a Wednesday night now, i remember when it was the shop in Knockintiber you could get it first on a Wednesday, or so my dad told me….dont know if thats even true.

Friday 9th.

Went to work then headed up to Glasgow to Jongleurs for a comedy night we had booked. A wee spot of dinner and a show then entry into the nightclub in mansion house after that. After a dodgy start where the ten of us were put on table with 6 older folk who had lined themselves up along one side of the long table while we had to line ourselves up on the other (hardly good for a big company) and the table cloth was wet and minging to touch. Words were had and we got a move to a different table which was smaller and just us so better, we then got fed and turns out there was a free drink involved too. All good. Comedians were cracking, mentions to Kai Humphreys and Andrew Longmonth who were outstanding, especially Longmonth who had our table pishing ourselves and other tables wanting to harm him. His set was a bit weird. Out of the nightclubs we could have chose we picked the 80s and the dj refused to play any Wet Wet Wet.

I slept the whole journey back on the night bus which runs every hour by the way from Glasgow to Killie, last time i was out it was 1am and half 3 or something but now its more regular. Stagecoach buses or whoever are resposible should take a bow.

Saturday 10th.

After dodging Ikea to go star on the telly on Tuesday we went today. Bought a couch and a bookcase type of unit and a mirror. We took the mirror home and the rest are getting delivered tomorrow. Good stuff. Also at ikea i completely dodged the hot dogs for the first time in maybe 4 years. Instead we went to MacDonalds.

Being on the Telly and the Subsequent Attempt to Master the Art of Self Deprication

The following is in no way the view of The Killie Trust as a board more the opinions and feelings of a guy who happens to be on the board.

This time last week i was sat squeezed inbetween two gentlemen, on my right as i look out, a representative of Hutchy Vale B.C. whom i am assured have produced many Scottish professional footballers over the years and on my left, Barry Richmond, chairman of the Killie Trust and who will be for the rest of this blog post be called Baz. In front of me was DUFC and national team coach Peter Houston, SPL man Neil Doncaster, SFL man David Longmuir as well as Mark Wotte the new chief of youth development and other such people making up a kind of whos who of Scottish football. We were sitting waiting on the panel of Steven Pressley, Rod Petrie, Craig Levein, Stuart Regan and Jim Traynor taking their seats in front of us so Rob Maclean could kick off the taping of Scottish Football: The Debate.

Rob Maclean, the tv just doesnt do him justice. A very handsome man in real life. Cut from stone he is.

Why i was in such illustrious company? Why i was dressed so casually? I will try and explain now.

At work that afternoon i had a voicemail from Baz asking me to call him back when i got the chance, Baz is quite downbeat on an answering machine, i thought i had ballsed something up in my role as press officer/communications/social media type thing i try and do. I hadnt though, its just his telephone manner, he was calling to see if i wanted to go to this debate thing which was a follow up to Traynors documentary Match for Europe shown the night previous. Having watched the doco and commented to friends and colleagues that it was half an hour of stating the obvious, we’re rubbish, germany and holland have the right idea, grass roots football is way forward, i still decided to go.

I did delay my decision to check in with the wife, only five months married and have arsed up plans before so just made sure i hadnt committed to anything prior. I had, ikea, but i brushed that aside like the alpha male i am (agreed to give up my saturday to go instead (pussy)) and called back to confirm late afternoon.

Now at this point i was completely unaware as to what we were going to, in my mind it was going to be like Question Time with a panel and a assorted audience of varying backgrounds and a fans of several clubs. I did know it was invite only at this point, though not to the extent of its exclusivity.

With the QT idea in my head i rushed to get ready post work, pre pick up. I would normally have worn a tshirt and jeans but actually consciously chose a shirt as didnt want to seem too underdressed but in a biggish crowd it woudnt make too much of a difference anyway. Oh the irony.

The drive up we spoke of how neither of us really knew what we were going to but Baz had been filmed for a segment of the doco which was left on the cutting room floor. That footage i am sure would have given some good insight into fans views and given that it was a show about improving a product to make it more attractive to fans some input from said people was sadly lacking from the broadcast. In my mind it seemed that this was why we were asked, the interview was cut but here is an invite, in fact here is two, bring someone else. Me.

Dunno if you were supposed to hand this back in, a nice little memento.

On arrival we got our visitors passes and were taken to the green room by a nice woman. Out of the car i reflected that under his overcoat Baz was dressed much like me, check shirt and jeans though he paired this classic look with shoes, im still young and trendy so i had plumped for my trainers.

We entered the green room and my heart sank, shirts, ties, blazers and brogues and nowhere near the amount of people to constitute a big QT style audience like the one in my head. We took a seat and had a quick look at the set up of where everyone would be in the studio and its at this point we realised the rarified company we were keeping.

The squad list to be submitted. Things to note: the placement of John Speirs and Barry Richmond originally compared to where we ended up being seated. And no Michael Johnston. Sole Killie reps, Baz and me.

A look at the photo above shows who was all there. It also shows that originally Baz and myself were to be behind one another over at the end as far away from panel as could be. Imagine my surprise when i got downstairs to the studio and there on the back of the seat dead centre on the back row (of two rows) John Spiers and Barry Richmond. Now i decided against pulling up the spelling error on my surname because i was excited and nervous about being in a tv studio. Plus i bottled it. Baz and i then took off our jackets to reveal the extent of our father and son style nearly matching outfits. Side by side in tablecloth glory our check shirt look seemed likely to stand out.

We were asked to say our names and how we got to the studio to test levels and our reaction to the boom mic. In hindsight given my harbouring ambitions of being a stand up i should have looked dead on down the cameras lens and told them i swam the clyde to their pacific quay building in my Calvin Klein suit and only had the attire i have on now to change into which would have both got my comedy schtick over to a new crowd as well as address the elephant in the room which was the “brokeback Killie fan” look being sported, but i never, bottled it and told them i was John Speirs and i came by car while glancing at the boom and getting a wee silent look of a telling off by the director.

The show itself came and went in a flash, there was probably as many people working behind the scenes as there was in front of it. The debate was less a debate and more a running through the ills of the game with opportunities for the panel and certain members of the audience to deliver carefully considered soundbite filled answers. Well, i presume that they were carefully considered, i also assume that they were pretold what they would be asked in order to formulate an answer, some people on our row even had notes though i guess i have no real way of knowing what those notes were. They might have been a message list for Asda (probably Sainsburys) on the way home. However one person who wasnt pretold his question, is said pretelling was done, was Baz. His came out of the blue and he did well to pull together a decent answer to the question posed.

The infamous "chin scratch". I told the wife i did that so she could see my wedding ring. Also, the shirts.

While the show is being taped there are big tv screens showing what is been filmed (effectively the edit of the show) on the studio floor. On these I was able to see when i was in shot at any given time and watched myself wriggling around a bit. The twitching and the scratching wasnt any attempt to stand out in anyway i should add, more a reaction to the heat of being between two bigger guys and only having one bum cheek on each of the two chairs i was spread out over.

When it was done and they checked to see if the show was actually there (if for some reason it hadnt taped we would have had to have tried again, in hindsight maybe this would have been better for both halfs of the Killie Trust representation, i could have shown off some rapier wit on the sound test and Baz could have retooled his earlier answer in some way and removed the use of the term leisure dollars i would expect) we were taken back upstairs for something to eat and drink. On the way up we spoke about the shock of being put on the spot like that, i mentioned the leisure dollars thing and Baz asked me who said that, when i replied it was him he burst out laughing.

The canapes, if i can be so bold as to call them that, were great and Baz and i stood on the outside of the throng of Scottish football pressing hands and chatting earnestly. They probably all knew each other already though there did look to be a bit of networking being attempted by some in search for a bit of gravitas, if there was a baby in the green room i would suspect it would have been in danger of being kissed if you know what i mean. Feeling a little left out but reluctant to join in it was nice when a representative of The Spartans FC came to talk to us. He told us about the ownership model his club uses which was very interesting and we discussed the evening we had just experienced. We left soon after so as to be home for the screening on BBC1.

During the screening itself i dont think i have ever taken as many pelters online and through text and phone calls about anything in my life before. The wardrope malfunction was a keen talking point as on the 19in tv in my bedroom our bright shirts stood out a mile. Looking back on my facebook timeline it was mostly about the shirts, the rest of the discussion was actually about Scottish football and points raised in the debate, looks like i will be giving the SFA a month to approach us to donate the shirts to the museum at Hampden or i will have to torch mine for fear of putting it on to go out without realising and someone digging me up about it when out.

All in all it was a great experience and i was chuffed to bits to be involved in something with so many important people. Personally i think we might have been a bit stitched up and put dead centre in order to give the impression of two ordinary punter fans (in the broadcast Baz had his name come up on the screen as he spoke describing him as Kilmarnock fan rather than as Killie Trust Chairman as he was invited as) maybe it was naivity on our part to underestimate the importance and exclusivity of the debate or maybe it wasnt. All in all it was a nice bit of exposure for our Trust and got people talking about Scottish football. I enjoyed it, Jim Spence said hello to me.

A Diary in 53 Parts: Part 10 :Week 9

Where i made it to part ten which given my track record is something to behold, wasnt a classic as far as notable events go mind you.

Sunday 26th February.

Every fortnight on the weekend FIFA 12 open the head to head area of the game up for a cup. Its bloody brilliant and myself a few fellas i work with at the warehouse talk about it frequently. “is it the cup this weekend?” one of us will ask, some weeks we will say “naw”, other weeks we will say “aye, i think sa”. Granted its not the most exciting of conversations but we do have it most weeks. This weekend, Friday, Saturday and today being Sunday it is open and I spent a fair bit of of my afternoon chasing the dream of a shiny cup and bragging rights come Monday at work. Sadly though i got papped out regular and lost the place with it and packed it in. Next time hopefully.  On my tv today i had the carling cup final where the commentators sold Dirk Kuyts goal as a cracker, i thought he tackled it in, also watched Sean Lock live from 2008 i think, big fan of him off the tv but this is actually the first time i have seen any extensive material from him, was great i thought. Oh and while the mrs watched dancing on ice i scoured youtube 9actually it took 2 minutes) to find the footage of Bill Hicks on the funny farm from the 80s. I have very vivid memories of the opening credits of that show from my youth, probably because it was a cartoon chicken walking down the street, had no recollection of the show itself. The reason i looked up this video was three fold. 1. I found out about it through facebook by Stu Who? who was on the bill the night i did the open slot at Rugby Park and was very nice to me afterwards (and before, an all round good guy) as he is the guy introducing him onto the stage. 2. Hicks would have been 50 today. 3. my phone wouldnt play the format of video the link he posted had and my laptops sound is gubbed so needed to post it to myself on facebook to watch it. Complicated but worth it. In the five minutes he did i saw a guy who used material i had saw work before but get a slightly muted response which he found pretty funny.

For dinner we had Chicken curry and haggis pies from Brownings which were smashing. Haggis with chicken curry on the top baked in a pie. An explanation probably wasnt needed as chicken curry adn haggis pie pretty much summed it up.

Monday 27th.

Came home from work to a running bath which my mrs thought she would treat me too. Climbed in and read my book for half an hour, the book is Game of Thrones and i have been reading it since November, not the best at reading in the winter.

While in this bath i discovered chocolate and mint Original Source shower gel which might be greatest bathroom based invention ever. It takes all my energy and will power not to eat it. If mint aeros smelt like this i would eat one for my dinner every day.

Tuesday 28th.

I dont think i mentioned it at the time but a few weeks ago i went to the dentist for a check up, needed a filling and today was the day it was getting done. My only decision was whether to go white or get one of they horrible metallic amalgam minging things. I already had my fair share of both these things in my mouth prior so it wasnt a case of keeping a uniform look to the inside of my gub. Went with white because the amalgam ones taste horrible for longer, must be the steel content or something.  Or  zinc or whatever its a mixture of. Gadz.

Its supposed to be better now at the dentist. Jags leave no real swelling and you can go about your day as normal without a tennis ball shaped cheek. But in those days that face meant people knew where you had been and gave you the benifit of the doubt when slevers hang from your chin as you walk to the carpark to get home. Now you can be sitting on the bus home with a normal face and shlurping up saliva you are sure is escaping but have no real confirmation of till its making a pool in your jacket. Folks tut tutting you and nothing you can do as your slurred slevery speech doesnt help.

So i got one, right up the back where the tooth hasnt came through properly so food gets caught in the gum and stuff, all very boring. Had a fair amount of work done on my gnashers and another wee filling to add to the collection isnae the worst that could have happened.

One final thing, when the dentist is in there doing the drilling and your mouth is numb do you think they put a wee hole in another tooth to makes sure theres a wage to get come the next check up appointment? Food for thought.

Wednesday 29th.

Your supposed to do something you never usually do on a day like today i am told. I dont think i bothered.

Thursday 1st March.

Never did too much today at all.

Friday 2nd.

Played some football after work and had a fairly early night.

Saturday 3rd.

Got up early to do some overtime at work. On my way home i decided to be proactive and get my coupon on before going home to have lunch prior to football. That way i wouldnt have to rush early going to the football to get to the bookies before. However as i sat eating my beans on toast updates appeared from the Swindon game which featured on my line. They were getting beat.

So the moral of that story is dont try to be smart, dont try and be punctual and make sure things are organised in advance because i had to spend more money backing the rest of my teams in that line again minus Swindon because i would have went mental if Swindon had been the only one who let me down and it was before 3pm. If i had just done my usual and left it to the last kick the n ice lady in the bookmakers would have said, “sorry pal, ones already kicked off, you want me to still put it through?” and i would have said yes then punched the air in delight for dodging a wee bullet.

After all that excitement i went and got bored to tears at the Killie game before a few beers at the Burns’ with my big cousin and the rest of my family on a wee day out for oor Jock, before heading home via Shahs Palace where we got our dinner. One cheeseburger, one chips and cheese and one large portion of veggie pakora between two.

A Diary in 53 Parts: Part 9: Week 8

In which I touched the wrong footballers brogues and live tweeted an epic train journey.

Sunday 19th February.

Sundays are, I have found, are an “either or” day, i either have a hangover and go the messages or i dont have a hangover and go the messages.

However also tonight i managed to hoover under our bed and behind it for the first time since we moved in. Its a big solid bed which takes a few folk to move it so its not laziness and jakeyness that prevented us doing it before now is a precursor i want to add before getting to the why it came to it we managed to get the hoover in about it.

See, it only became possible following Natalie and I breaking it and prett mych falling right through it in the morning which led to me getting the drill out to put it all back together. On a positive note it was a perfectly executed sidewalk slam that done the damage, on a negative note absolutely nothing in this paragraph is a euphamism.

Shat my pants when it fell through though, managed to shear two of the screws that held the bar (that holds up the slats) onto the side frame of bed. A wee lend of a power tool and replacing the three screws of before with 7 new ones in new places has seen what i would describe as an improvement to the support system intiated by whoever manufactured the bed. Wrestling can resume.

Again, no euphamisms.

We watch dancing on ice, which is another sunday ritual now, before going to bed where i see that the Homeland pilot is on Channel 4 +1. Risking regretting watching it in the morning when my alarm goes off (it finishes after 11, a major no no these days) I give it to the first break to see if it grabs me. It most certainly does, most tv shows and films which in the background of some scenes have a cork board with peoples pictures on it in a pyramid formation with their names underneath and their relationships with each other pointed out with either marker lines or lengths of string usually do, and i watch all the way to the end. I am suitably intrigued to watch it all now, looks a good show.

Monday 20th.

Applied for a job today.

Tuesday 21st.

Today is pancake Tuesday! Yaaaaaasssss! We make some after dinner, for my mind the flipping of them far outweighs eating them as after one i wasnt that bothered eating anymore. I did however as if i didnt i wouldnt be able to do any more flipping and from my first shot it was clear i was a natural. Had chocolate spread and banana on them which was lovely. Listened to Killie getting gubbed at Tanadice on the radio in the kitchen while all this was going on as Natalie watched the brits in living room, she shouted me through to see Blur, I thought they were alright but judging by my facebook homepage they were shite.

Wednesday 22nd.

Held in my hand the brogues of the Manchester City team. Either they have been bought from my work or ordered from the supplier and we are just middle men, regardless, they were in my work and as such i held one in my hand. From a squad boasting many stars from all around the world, Ballotelli’s were there, David Silvas, Diego Maradonnas sone in law Sergio Aguero’s were there, the whole lot to pick from to inspect. I chose Nigel de Jong. I dont know why and it annoys me i did, why him, he hardly gets a game. When Sky show them stepping off the bus with their big ridiculous headphones on and their wee Loius Vuitton toiletry bags complimenting their club suits i will look down at those shoes and saw, i touched those. Then it will dawn on me i only touched De Jongs and i will wait patiently for him to climb off the coach and i will have to accept that he is watching it on tv like me as he hasnt been selected. Then i will seeth with rage that i declined caressing Yaya Toures big size 11s. They had their initials nailed into the soles of the boots i should add and were very very smart. Might get a pair myself though finding the guts of 400 quid should put paid to that idea. Nigel de Jong, i could kick myself.

Thursday 23rd.

Wrote a quiz today for entertainment purposes at the weekend, thats what us married couples do i suppose. Due to the fact i cant win i have decided to make the quiz as hard as possible, questions about the career of MC Hammer and whole rounds on the history of Australian soap Neighbours should see my cunning plan come off.

Friday 24th.

Natalie took a wee trip to B&M this week and as such we have a whole slew of weird and wonderful things in our cupboard for eating. For lunch at work i took a christmas dinner flavoured Pot Noodle. Supposed to taste like turkey with all the trimmings, tatties, brussell sprouts, etc, the whole hog (though not actual hog, which would make a good pot noodle, letter to both major noodle companies will be sent out i think, Hog Roast flavour, it would be a ratings winner, maybe with an ad campaign with a talking pig turning on a spike) and even had a wee sachet of cranberry sauce. Fact of the matter is, it did taste like all that stuff, just not sure if thats necessarily a good thing. I have another one to eat at some point, might put it off till im desperate.

After work i showered and shaved and did my hair (confession time: i dug out the straighteners too as its getting a bit long, i have no shame in this act) because we were going up to Glasgow for our dinner. Madras Palace i think it was called, up at Charing Cross area. It was an indian buffet and it was very nice. Kingfisher lager too was cracking. The owner, or manager fella approached us toward the end of our meal and tapped me on the shoulder and said “bet he doesnt know this” and asked my friend Gareth who scored the quickest goal in world cup history. You dont get asked that too often in restuarants and even less by strangers. Think i liked it. He said Brian Robson in 82, i argued the point, he dismissed me and went on to tell us that he is a season ticket holder at Celtic Park and fancies Holland for the Euro’s in June. We also got his tip for the Derby. While he did this i googled the quickest goal in World Cup history as i had a video about major football championships we got from saving vouchers on smiths crisps way back in 1989 which was presented by Brian robson in an awful shirt, and even so long ago i still recall him saying he never scored the quickest goal and showed footage of some black and white  game where a goal in 15 seconds was scored, google couldnt give me that answer but it did tell me that Hakan Suker scored the fastes goal in WC history in 2002 in 11 seconds. never had the heart to tell the owner/manager fellow though.

After a post dinner drink we got on our train home on which Natalie fell asleep while i live tweeted the journey. I did this because the usual 45 minute journey home actually took 90 minutes and as such was a bit of a nightmare. heres a selection of what i wrote.

00:12 train stil in station. Full o sleverin wallopers.

Were on the move.

Lost count o the folk who see or hear cool stuff on train in twitter reading. So far iv seen or heard fuck aw. #myth #cunts

Why does the killie to glasgow train stop at a gazzilion stops now? Whats wrong wi ggow, barrhead, dunlop etc. Fuck.

Now its ggow, a huner shanty towns, barrhead, dunlop then familiar ayrshire. #noton

Been stopped at pollokshaws west for longer than could ever b described as necessary. Nxt stop kennishead. Half an hr n no out glesga. #fuck

Nitshill city limits. Songsthatwouldbesongsifiwasinhellandhellwastheglesgatokillietrain

Never hashtagged that last tweet. Two chances o it trendin now…….

Barrhead has been breached. Ayrshire awaits.

Guy in seat behind us hasnt spewed his ring on us. Had horrible feelin it was possible when we sat down.

Kilmaurs is in our wake. Next tweet probably from my bed. Or from mif saturday morning.

Home n in mine scratcher more than 90 minutes after leavin glasgow. Good job #scotrail.

Saturday 25th.

Got up in the morning and set about the important task of fixing my fantasy football team for the weekend. Looking back to my transfers made a few weeks ago i must have had a small spell of insanity as i go into this weekend with a QPR defender and Jelavic up front along with many other crazy decisons all over the pitch. time to try and rectify this mess. Aguero goes in because i looked at his shoes (never touched them, what an idiot i am, Nigel de fucking Jong) and a few other wee tweaks. fingers crossed. In 6 seasons playing this game my sole success is the naming of our mini league, Bummersliga. Still makes me laugh.

Went and watched Killie be utter shite and gutless and weak and shite and lazy and shite before stomping up the road in a huff. Natalie was in next door when i got home so i went in also and managed to keep a lid on my rage, they have young kids. Exploded with a raft of sweary words when we finally got in our own front door. Felt better, had to cancel quiz due to lack of numbers so my mega hard quiz has gone in the file for use at a later date and Scott and Michelle came round and we had a wee pairty the four of us.

A Diary in 53 Parts: Part 8: Week 7

A week in which i won 70 quid and do a fair amount of cooking.

Sunday 12th February.

Went for another run today, exactly 5k down and around the town and back up. Hips are sore, feel like an old man. Also feel like a fat man so gonna have to put up with the pain. At night I watch Zambia upset the odds and win the African cup of Nations against favourites Ivory Coast (or Cote D’Ivoire as its also know) Cote D’Ivoire is also the subject of maybe my favourite fact ever. That fact being that its illegal to call the Ivory Coast the Ivory Coast while in the Ivory Coast, if you do call it that then its an affront to the King. Now, a few things from that, for one i dont really know if they have a king or even a royal family and it was a while since i was told that gem so maybe using the term fact is a bit of a stretch.

Was delighted when Zambia won, always been a Cameroon man myself but since they never qualified and the Copper Bullets beat other big guns along the way and i am a big fan of the underdog it was a no brainer. Plus Zambia used to be called Rhodesia and Killie toured there back in the 60s so that tenuous link was enough for me to put my support behind the Copper Bullets. I just hope they dont have some sort of horrible record of human rights violations or something….

Monday 13th.

Natalie isnt too well today, I feel fine. I make the dinner, pasta (its those wee pasta parcle things, this time with walnut and gorgonzola which was weird) before heading out the the Trust board meeting.

Tuesday 14th.

Ah Valentines day, the patron saint of buying cards and flowers, both of which i did yesterday. We dont really go in for Valentines much neither we do, Natalie isnt too bothered about it at all which makes me happy becuase for me its a load of old bollocks. The thought of struggling to get a table in a restaurant or a seat at the pictures on the 14th of february becuase a bunch of akward folk are doing a valentines date and are sitting across from each other hardly speaking and finding out they have nothing in common fills me with dread. No, i feel i can take my beloved out any day of the week or month and i think she agrees. instead of all that i augment a frozen magharita pizza with hot sauce, frozen peppers and wee bacon bit things while the wife lies with her feet up watching Hollyoaks. She is still not better and coughing like an old motor but she manages to eat my delicious meal. We finish the night watching those horrendous Gypsy wedding folks which amuses me as the bride has the biggest ears i have seen in ages. The look like the kind of lugs you see on old men in the bookies.

Or any place old men frequent i guess.

Wednesday 15th.

On my first break at work i recieve a text asking if i want to paint the kitchen on Saturday, my kitchen to be exact. Strange how this hasnt been mentioned before that minute. Also, its not as if its a question, more a statement that “you’re painting the kitchen on Saturday”. Its nice to have my weekend planned out.

For dinner i made macaroni cheese from scratch. Top cook this week.

Thursday 16th.

Finally watch the new version of Pointless, its pretty much like the old one except its in HD and there are a few changes in the rounds they play. Not sure i like it, but most likely it will be like the facebook changes where you initially hate them but learn to accept them and forget the old way after about an hour. Need to apply to get on. Also tonight i sort out the arrangements for getting cup final tickets and put plans in place to get back on the Burns bus too. A trip back to the Phoenix club looks likely. Natalie takes control of the cooking duties again and trys to dupe me by saying were getting chicken but actually giving me turkey. She must think i am an idiot. I eat it anyway. She apologises. No big deal. We have golden syrup cake and custard for a wee dessert which is ok but as soon as i taste it i realise it was probably jamaica cake i wanted. Thems the breaks though. As they say in The Wire, “s’all in the game, yo” though admittedly its not the same circumstances.

Or even particularly relevant now i think about it.

Friday 17th.

After work i play in what was probably the best game of 7 a sides i have played in years. Now that i write that i have jinxed any other games i will play but it was nice to have that high point to look back on. Never more than two goals in it and everyone trying for the full hour, cant ask for more. To balance out all the running around i did during said “best game” i had a full pizza supper with grated cheese and curry sauce drizzled on top for my dinner. Havent had such fine cuisine for a good while and fair enjoyed it. Cant beat a chip shop deep fried pizza i dont think, though its pretty likely that calling it a pizza is against the trade descriptions act. I managed to refrain from getting the pizza dipped in batter before cooked so it could be argued i took the healthier option all things considered.

Once fed we took a trip down to Prestwick to visit Natalies old neighbours Joan and Davie who she has always called aunt and uncle. Lovely people who have been very nice to me ever since i met them about 8 years ago. Back then i was still a cinema student and Davie name dropped Eisenstein into the conversation which i picked up on and we still mention it now. Finally saw in his computer room he has told me about for years tonight, his camera collection lining the walls and his imac switched on we tried to find his photos fo our wedding to have a wee look at, never found them though, maybe next time.

He regaled us with stories, most of which i hadnt actually heard, one of which was about his visit in the mid 60s to Kilmarnocks German twin town and the subsequent visit back to Kilmarnock. A great old guy (also a socialist as he likes to point out) and his wife Joan (a tory he tells me quite regularly) keeps him in check. Smashing folks.

Saturday 18th.

A day i fully expected to spend painting my kitchen listening to the football on the radio and trying not to trip over my bottom lip while in a huff about my Saturday activities actually turned out to be a great day. We never actually had any rollers or brushes to do the painting, or any actual paint for that matter so that job has been rainchecked till next week at the earliest. Instead i spent the morning farting about while Natalie heads off to Irvine with her sister before taking in Killie glorious victory over crisis club/tax cheats Rangers by means i dont really want to admit to on here. fair to say it was a steady “stream” of activity for the afternoon. Before I watched that though i stuck on my Saturday coupon and while i basked in the glory of our 1-0 win i checked my bookies lines and found out i was 70 quid to the good on one of the lines. Thats two in three weeks which sounds like a rich vien of form but like all statistics its all about the depth of focus and if you look at my record over the whole season it still stands at two winning lines. However, i dont care, a wins a win.

Head up the road after football the wife and I are visited by our friends and their young kid. The wee fella is going to be a year old at the tail end of April and it strikes me how quick a year it has been for them. A bright wee thing he is as well too. When they leave we take in the best Saturday night telly has to offer, Take Me Out and Johnathan Ross. Both passable for entertainment when you cant wipe a football/coupon win smile off your face.