Forest on Saturday, a hiding to nothing really and as we've won there now who gives a sh*t right?
Last season a rather brilliant pre Christmas day out began in the welcoming Vat & Fiddle pub/ Castle Rock brewery just north of the train station. Some excellent beers on sale there fresh out the vat into your pint glass. The Elsie Mo is particularly good... from what I remember. Worth the trip alone.
Went to the Pilsner Urquell brewery earlier this month in Pilzen as part of a trip to Prague. Good beer, a tad too hoppy for my taste but you cannot whack a fresh crisp beer straight out the barrel. Pub just up the road from there had this quirky idea where every table had its own Pinlsner Urquell pump with a digital metre clocking up your beer flow for the day. Every table is linked to a big screen in the pub so you can compete with other tables on how much beer is getting drunk. Really cool idea however, demands a lot of respect and I feel the English mentality would be to destroy the f*cking place.
Could you not re-do the football league and have an up to date version of the old format. Have a Southern League and a northern league and play each other 4 times?
Would you miss trips to Middlesboro, Blackburn and Preston or any on those northern places? Would this be better for the environment and costs to fans and clubs or is it far too radical and dull? Any particular reason this system was abolished in the late 50s?
Can't believe this is a box office £20 note job for tomorrow night, contenders now demanding the same price as a title fight. What a p*ss take. You pay your Sky Sports sub and then they throw this one at you. Shame because I quite like Whyte and reckon with the right prep he's as good anyone up there and quite rightly will get a shot a Fury or Wilder should he win.
I know Sky, Virgin they’re all the same – appalling customer service - nothing new there we've all probably dealt with them.
Really got my Goat this week though. I managed to convince my elderly father to let me re-negotiate his Sky package the other week. He had been on the same deal 16 years and was obviously getting ripped off.
Took me 90 minutes or so to do it and after finally convincing them he had forgot his password and that he’s given me permission to speak to them on his behalf, we got going. With the BT line rental he was paying in addition to the Sky subscription, in all he was hemorrhaging about £140 a month and had been for all those years and getting just the Sports package and a max 2Mbps broadband. Awful. Even the bird on the line couldn’t believe how bad it was.
Finally got them the same TV package with Sky Q, faster fiber broadband and the phone and line rental with Sky all for £80 a month. Job done, big saving. He got sent the new modem for his broadband which I setup for him, the new broadband was meant to switch over on 25 May last week. Instead the broadband has gone dead. Nothing all weekend. Phoned them up Tuesday to be told rather than start the new package they’d somehow managed to cancel the order completely so will have to re-order it but the switch on date will now be delayed until 12 June….apparently it all goes through Open Reach or some bull sh*t so that’s why it takes so long. No broadband for 3 weeks. He’s not very happy at all and will now miss the Champions League final being broadcast for free on YouTube on Saturday among all the other inconvenience of not having internet for that long. Online groceries, Emails, the lot all gone by the wayside. I asked them about Compo and they offered a £10 Tesco voucher. I want to take it further – think this it totally irresponsible, imagine if someone lived there who works from home, what would happen then? I was going to cancel it all and go to Virgin but I know from experience they’re just as sh*t.
Any ideas what I should do next? Really f*cked me off – feel like it’s my fault to a degree.
What a night to remember. I chucked a sickie at work to get the box office to buy my ticket. The usual “Been sick, must have been something I ate, I’ll be alright tomorrow” excuse. I’d rarely had those symptoms, once when I was a kid and my mum left an entire box of After Eight mints at my disposal – that was the only time I can remember. After purchasing my ticket I whipped round to my girlfriend at the time’s house, we’d only just started going out. She was looking after her nephew who was about a year old. “He’s had a bit of a virus. In fact, we’ve all been a bit sick here” she told me. The words went in one ear out the other and she made me a tuna pasta salad. We sat and chilled out on that gorgeous Spring afternoon, the shiny playoff semi final ticket safely tucked into my back pocket full of promise.
The next day at work I became ill with food poisoning like it was some kind of punishment, every orifice. I was lucky to make that semi-final leg and even on the night days later I was still feeling a bit rough, no alcohol and lots of Imodium to see me through about seven pounds lighter. Tense atmosphere, men, women and children celebrating the renaissance of Ian Holloway’s QPR and against very tough opposition. The goal, the out-pour of emotion in the lower loft like nothing I’d seen or to this day witnessed since. Like 8 years of struggle and turmoil being exercised in one gigantic goal celebration. We were there, weren’t we? Chris Day makes a wonder save at the death, a red card somewhere, who cares? A row us standing on our seats all fell at the same time like dominoes, it didn’t matter, we were going to Cardiff.