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It’s just not as good is it? That was a football weekend that had no leg breaks. No managers spitting out the dummy. No mass brawls. No calls for the Prime Minister to step in and sort out the game of football. Rubbish, just bloody rubbish.

Actually there were a couple of things I noticed at the weekend. The first of which is Gerard Houllier's bug eyes. Is it my imagination or is he looking more mental by the week? 

He always looks the way, err how can I put this, that a lady looks if during the sweet act of gentle love making you “accidentally” slip the bald avenger into the “other hole”. 

The other thing I noticed was how every goal that Blackburn have conceded this season can be put down to one man. Lorenzo Amoruso. 

Now one of my best mates is a Rangers die-hard and told me that Blackburn were getting a real quality defender. 

I can only assume that “real quality” could well be the Scots Gaelic for “utterly useless, one paced, positionally naïve, Italian ponce”.

But the good news is that it is Champions league week. The burning question will of course be. Just how bad are Arsenal in Europe?. I actually have a soft spot for the Gunners but it amazes me that they never show any improvement each year in their attempts to advance in the Champions League. 

Arsene got away with it for a couple of years citing Man. Utd’s early efforts but surely a question or two has to be asked. Anyway I can’t wait to sit there with a healthy cargo of fine Czech Beer and my trusty Sky remote whilst Ms B is dispatched to talk about sanitary protection or whatever it is that women talk about when they get together. I don’t really know or indeed care.

 
 

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Well, just to sign off I had a very pleasant weekend in a hotel courtesy of Ms. B’s employer. Highlight of the weekend was sending my breakfast back on Sunday because despite VERY specific instructions to the contrary my breakfast arrived with the Ambrosia of the Anti-Christ, baked beans on it. 

I gave the manager guy a wee bit of a hard time alleging I was hideously allergic and some bollix about telling the waiter at least three times “no beans” (actually that bit might be true such is the curse of the truly obsessed).

The upshot was that as Ms. B’s company is such a good customer of the hotel they scrubbed the forty notes bar bill we ran up the night before.

Never underestimate the power of the Anti-Beans lobby


Bon Chance 


Jim Burke

Just Say No To Beans

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