Friday, May 28, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Burnley Vs Manchester United 1-0 Goal By Robbie Blake WHAT A GREAT GOAL !!!!!!!! 19.08.09 HQ
Oh Robbie Robbie, Robbie Robbie Robbie Robbie Robbie Blake - GOAL GOAL GOAL GOGOL GOALLLLLL!!!!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Isaan Images
On my way to work the other morning at the head of a ‘Thai style free for all’ junction I saw this woman dressed in one of those smart Thai Government uniforms on her Honda Dream indicating right but turning left, stand down and wobbling like a karaoke girl’s bedstead. No prose can pay her justice, she represents her nation indicating left turning right, stand down, wobbling shaking, too clueless to be diffident.
On the way home from school, our school’s security guard was waving students across the road but not looking at the traffic behind him, not gesturing for it to stop, but still waving innocent unwitting nine year olds into a game of Russian roulette. That’s your future kids, untrained security guards courting lollipopman positions with no green cross code or gumption, waving you on in. Don’t believe the hype, come on come on.
I went to pay my internet and electricity bills in Seven 11 and they came to 58 baht (just over one pound sterling). ‘That can’t be right!’ the queue murmured ‘farang ngng’ ‘farang ngng’ (Westerner confused, Westerner confused) but I’m not fucking ngng I’ve been here so long and been through this pantomime so many times before that I can tell you exactly why I’m not ngng and exactly why you lot fucking are, in your fucking language. A month’s internet and electricity wouldn’t come to just over a pound if I lived in Zimbabwe never mind this Banana Republic.
I used to love this shithole - I used to hate this Shangri La – I’ve plateaued, the scars of Bangkok are softening, England is a distant land where it snows. Khon Kaen is a place where Ronald McDonald wais and Thaksin Shinawatra can still organise his self fulfilling adulatory rallies by proxy. How Thailand gets out of bed in the morning and manages to function for another day, I’m never quite sure.
No Love No Hate just Mirth.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Just 2 Minutes From Wembley
Proud to Be a Claret
Article shamelessly lifted from the Telegraph, journalist Henry Winter.
As Burnley’s magnificent fans made their way out of Turf Moor, muttering about how lucky Spurs had been and how proud they were of their claret-and-blue idols, a father tried to console his son. The lad’s hair was damp from the rain and his face moist from the tears. "Their legs went," the father kept saying to the boy, "they’d given everything."
The lad was heart-broken, his mind too confused to take in the reasons for Burnley’s late collapse. He had seen Owen Coyle’s players "climb Everest" in the manager’s opinion, overturning a 4-1 first-leg deficit through goals from Robbie Blake, Chris McCann and Jay Rodriguez.
He had thrilled to see Blake give one of the games of his life, a masterclass of enterprising wing-play. He had watched Joey Gudjonsson, Wade Elliott and McCann hand the atrocious midfield pair of Tom Huddlestone and Didier Zokora a lesson in possession.
The Carling Cup final was within touching distance. The Burnley fan who proposed successfully to his girlfriend at half-time was doubtless planning his honeymoon for London on March 1. Nice hotel, flowers in the room and, what a coincidence, the Carling Cup final against Manchester United on their doorstep.
Wembley was within touching distance, three minutes away but exhaustion was invading Burnley legs, the game was stretching and suddenly the Premier League visitors finally awoke. Barring honourable exceptions like the disciplined and determined Michael Dawson, who battled on with an injury, Tottenham were a disgrace for 117 minutes.
Most of the players were unworthy of wearing that famous shirt or taking home their fabulous wage-packets. Luka Modric resembled a hiker who had wandered in off Pendle Hill, attracted by the bright lights. Chris Gunter was constantly bypassed by Blake. Ben Alnwick, a promising keeper, was a bundle of nerves. Spurs were a mess. Sandra Redknapp could have played in a number of positions and been an improvement.
"I was stood there with a couple of minutes to go, thinking it could be the most embarrassing moment of my football life," reflected Harry Redknapp. As he peered through the rain, Roman Pavlyuchenko pounced, making up for a dreadful earlier miss with a neat finish. Seconds later, Jermain Defoe raced in and Burnley’s dream was truly destroyed by a strike-force that cost nearly £30m. Burnley never deserved this denouement and if the sporting fates have any conscience they will guide Coyle’s side to Wembley in the play-offs.
"It was cruel," said Coyle of the way Burnley were so brutally denied. "It is twists and turns that make us all love football, although I don’t love it tonight. The lads are distraught in the dressing-room but I told them to go out with their heads held high."
Quite right. Arriving with such a comfortable-looking advantage, Spurs had known Burnley would throw everything at them. On a magical night of Cup football when Burnley did the Championship proud, Turf Moor was rocking as Coyle’s men dismantled Redknapp’s side. Even the weather played its part in scripting some drama, a raw wind biting into Tottenham faces in the first half. Within a minute, all the players were soaked, the chill wind lowering body temperatures.
This was a rain-hit, flood-lit night when players’ characters, strong or meek, shone through and Redknapp will worry about the competitive instincts of certain players in contrast to Coyle’s. David Bentley never imposed his undoubted talent, and the former Blackburn Rovers player was venomously booed when he dared clatter Chris Eagles, the Ronaldo of Turf Moor.
Tottenham were poor. When the initially sluggish Benoit Assou-Ekotto overhit a back-pass, Alnwick managed to scramble back and push the ball away. The Spurs fans in the cricket field end were horrified, screaming at the players to raise their game, a request ignored until late on.
Coyle had told his players to be patient, to keep pushing, keep probing, because chances would come. When Jonathan Woodgate fouled Martin Paterson 25 yards out to the right of Alnwick’s goal, Burnley were granted a prime opportunity. Blake placed the ball down while the inexperienced Alnwick demanded a two-man wall.
Modric and O’Hara hardly represent the most formidable of obstacles, even combined, and Blake almost nonchalantly curled his free-kick around them, the ball easily beating Alnwick at his left-hand upright. As Blake sped away in celebration, both Modric and O’Hara turned round and gave Alnwick withering looks.
Having organised the wall, the keeper really should not have been beaten at his near-post but Blake’s brilliance also needed applauding. Alnwick has real potential but it was little surprise to find Spurs being linked with Chelsea’s Carlo Cudicini and Newcastle United’s Steve Harper, although Redknapp said he knew nothing of any interest.
Redknapp gave his players a rocket at the break, a theme that continued in the 50th minute when a firework launched from near the Jimmy McIlroy Stand landed on the pitch and will doubtless be mentioned in Mark Halsey’s report to the Football Association.
A moment of profligacy from Gareth Bale, the Welshman skewing his shot wide, did not appear too costly but then came McCann. Turf Moor has staged some drama down the years, has seen the roof raised on many an emotional occasion but the noise in the 73rd was unbelievable. Blake began the move, twisting Spurs defence into the ground, leaving Chris Gunter and Dawson totally bemused before crossing for McCann to make it 4-3 on aggregate and Turf Moor screaming itself hoarse.
Spurs were shellshocked, riddled with errors and uncertainty, allowing Burnley back in again. When Alnwick fumbled another free-kick from Blake, Rodriguez calmly swept the ball into the net to force extra time. But then came Pavlyuchenko and Defoe. The tears began to flow for Burnley but really their eyes should glisten with pride.
Article shamelessly lifted from the Telegraph, journalist Henry Winter.
As Burnley’s magnificent fans made their way out of Turf Moor, muttering about how lucky Spurs had been and how proud they were of their claret-and-blue idols, a father tried to console his son. The lad’s hair was damp from the rain and his face moist from the tears. "Their legs went," the father kept saying to the boy, "they’d given everything."
The lad was heart-broken, his mind too confused to take in the reasons for Burnley’s late collapse. He had seen Owen Coyle’s players "climb Everest" in the manager’s opinion, overturning a 4-1 first-leg deficit through goals from Robbie Blake, Chris McCann and Jay Rodriguez.
He had thrilled to see Blake give one of the games of his life, a masterclass of enterprising wing-play. He had watched Joey Gudjonsson, Wade Elliott and McCann hand the atrocious midfield pair of Tom Huddlestone and Didier Zokora a lesson in possession.
The Carling Cup final was within touching distance. The Burnley fan who proposed successfully to his girlfriend at half-time was doubtless planning his honeymoon for London on March 1. Nice hotel, flowers in the room and, what a coincidence, the Carling Cup final against Manchester United on their doorstep.
Wembley was within touching distance, three minutes away but exhaustion was invading Burnley legs, the game was stretching and suddenly the Premier League visitors finally awoke. Barring honourable exceptions like the disciplined and determined Michael Dawson, who battled on with an injury, Tottenham were a disgrace for 117 minutes.
Most of the players were unworthy of wearing that famous shirt or taking home their fabulous wage-packets. Luka Modric resembled a hiker who had wandered in off Pendle Hill, attracted by the bright lights. Chris Gunter was constantly bypassed by Blake. Ben Alnwick, a promising keeper, was a bundle of nerves. Spurs were a mess. Sandra Redknapp could have played in a number of positions and been an improvement.
"I was stood there with a couple of minutes to go, thinking it could be the most embarrassing moment of my football life," reflected Harry Redknapp. As he peered through the rain, Roman Pavlyuchenko pounced, making up for a dreadful earlier miss with a neat finish. Seconds later, Jermain Defoe raced in and Burnley’s dream was truly destroyed by a strike-force that cost nearly £30m. Burnley never deserved this denouement and if the sporting fates have any conscience they will guide Coyle’s side to Wembley in the play-offs.
"It was cruel," said Coyle of the way Burnley were so brutally denied. "It is twists and turns that make us all love football, although I don’t love it tonight. The lads are distraught in the dressing-room but I told them to go out with their heads held high."
Quite right. Arriving with such a comfortable-looking advantage, Spurs had known Burnley would throw everything at them. On a magical night of Cup football when Burnley did the Championship proud, Turf Moor was rocking as Coyle’s men dismantled Redknapp’s side. Even the weather played its part in scripting some drama, a raw wind biting into Tottenham faces in the first half. Within a minute, all the players were soaked, the chill wind lowering body temperatures.
This was a rain-hit, flood-lit night when players’ characters, strong or meek, shone through and Redknapp will worry about the competitive instincts of certain players in contrast to Coyle’s. David Bentley never imposed his undoubted talent, and the former Blackburn Rovers player was venomously booed when he dared clatter Chris Eagles, the Ronaldo of Turf Moor.
Tottenham were poor. When the initially sluggish Benoit Assou-Ekotto overhit a back-pass, Alnwick managed to scramble back and push the ball away. The Spurs fans in the cricket field end were horrified, screaming at the players to raise their game, a request ignored until late on.
Coyle had told his players to be patient, to keep pushing, keep probing, because chances would come. When Jonathan Woodgate fouled Martin Paterson 25 yards out to the right of Alnwick’s goal, Burnley were granted a prime opportunity. Blake placed the ball down while the inexperienced Alnwick demanded a two-man wall.
Modric and O’Hara hardly represent the most formidable of obstacles, even combined, and Blake almost nonchalantly curled his free-kick around them, the ball easily beating Alnwick at his left-hand upright. As Blake sped away in celebration, both Modric and O’Hara turned round and gave Alnwick withering looks.
Having organised the wall, the keeper really should not have been beaten at his near-post but Blake’s brilliance also needed applauding. Alnwick has real potential but it was little surprise to find Spurs being linked with Chelsea’s Carlo Cudicini and Newcastle United’s Steve Harper, although Redknapp said he knew nothing of any interest.
Redknapp gave his players a rocket at the break, a theme that continued in the 50th minute when a firework launched from near the Jimmy McIlroy Stand landed on the pitch and will doubtless be mentioned in Mark Halsey’s report to the Football Association.
A moment of profligacy from Gareth Bale, the Welshman skewing his shot wide, did not appear too costly but then came McCann. Turf Moor has staged some drama down the years, has seen the roof raised on many an emotional occasion but the noise in the 73rd was unbelievable. Blake began the move, twisting Spurs defence into the ground, leaving Chris Gunter and Dawson totally bemused before crossing for McCann to make it 4-3 on aggregate and Turf Moor screaming itself hoarse.
Spurs were shellshocked, riddled with errors and uncertainty, allowing Burnley back in again. When Alnwick fumbled another free-kick from Blake, Rodriguez calmly swept the ball into the net to force extra time. But then came Pavlyuchenko and Defoe. The tears began to flow for Burnley but really their eyes should glisten with pride.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Immortal Technique - Cause of Death
The lyrics you hear on that milk video are as follows: Because subliminal bigotry makes you hate my politics, but you act like America wouldn't destroy two buildings, in a country that was sponsoring bombs dropped on our children, I was watching the Towers, and though I wasn't the closest, I saw them crumble to the Earth like they was full of explosives and they thought nobody noticed the news report that they did, about the bombs planted on the George Washington bridge, four non-Arabs arrested during the emergency, and then it disappeared from the news permanently, they dubbed a tape of Osama, and they said it was proof "Jealous of our freedom," I can't believe you bought that excuse, rockin a motherfucking flag don't make you a hero, Word to Ground Zero, the Devil crept into Heaven, God overslept on the 7th, The New World Order was born on September 11. BANG! OWW!!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Grumpy Tired Dad Getting Angry With Morlam Scally Gypsies
Now 1:03 and still decibelling through our house. I love Thailand! AARRRRRGGHHH!!!!
Monday, December 15, 2008
Grandma Arrives - Free Muthathar al Zaidi!
50% GOOD
50% BAD
Which half will Grandma receive? Find out next week, with hopefully no shoe throwing incidents to report.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
The Moon, Jupiter and Venus
The other night I came out of the house and looked at the sky and the moon was smiling at me with two eyes above it. I quickly shot it on camera to make sure I wasn't having an adverse effect from Dtock's cooking and then considered it was probably a sign from the gods that they are laughing at Thailand and their political fiascoes.
The next day at work it was hot gossip, the locals had gone on to say that it was a deeply significant sign and that Thailand was possibly slipping into the gulf. Some had even consulted books (a first for everything) and were coming out with pretty gloomy stuff.
Well they needn't worry because I've worked it all out, the sign was for me and all my fellow Clarets. Looking back now, I can't believe I didn't see it coming. The planet on the left prophesised a 6th minute goal at Turf Moor from Kevin McDonald, symmetrically the planet on the right (be it Jupiter or Venus who cares) indicated a second half 57th minute pearler with the outside of his boot from the same player. The moon smiling was indicative of me, Turf Moor and Clarets all over the world being sent into raptures at 4 in the next morning (Thai time) as Burnley marched on past the mighty Arsenal and took their place in the semi finals of the League Cup.
I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Channel Seven Thai TV for showing something useful for a change without any interruption as clear as crystal. We even got the on pitch half time draw live over here.
So there you go Russell Grant and co. you can take your thinking caps off and relax. We're the famous Burnley F.C. and we're going to Wemberlee, Wemberleee, Wemberlee.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
Thailand's Political Upheaval (in a nutshell for my homies in the UK)
The current upheaval can be traced back since colonialists overlooked Siam, in favour of a buffer zone between British India and Burma and French Indochina. The disaster waiting to happen has been a long time coming, it survived the American Indochina cold war satelite wars and post cold war American capitalist aggression because of the West's artificial adoption of it in exchange for logistical and political support as its main ally in South East Asia. It’s therefore no coincidence that as the new World power order shifts East the one country left in the cold will be this one. The recent problems are symptomatic of a wider paradigm shift.
On the ground Thais are intellectually and politically immature making them vunerable to blatant rhetorical polital and economic exploitation. Born of their warped indoctrination of nationalist ‘virtue’ they become worryingly over enthusuastic to discard their well branded, purported national love ‘land of smile’ image for an incongruous quest for their self idealed nation, which can never work as no individual sees the same way. Class divisions are huge here, my Nana Booth’s one vivid re-collection was of a country polarised and she came here in the early 80s, history hasn’t been favourable to levelling out these discrepancies.
The most disappointing element to all this is that it all stems from a deep aminosity between two main media and political moguls who used to be close friends and business partners; Thaksin Shinawatra (who I'm sure you've all heard of) and Sondhi Limthongkul (one of the main protest organisers), people on the ground are so dumb they're willing to put their lives on the line for these super rich personalities. Neither side seems to have a set and coherent plan for what it wants apart from the other side out (or dead) and the PAD which stands for Peoples Alliance for Democracy ironically want an end to the current form of democracy in exchange for a Parliamentary appointed seats process which wouldn't really be democratic.
It’s like England dividing between Roundheads and Cavaliers but with more money, ego, yellow, red, fun and total lack of responsibilty involved. And a virile media waiting to pounce. In reality Thailand is far behind the rest of the world we live in and has been lucky not to have experienced hardship suffered akin to neighbouring Cambodia, Burma, Vietnam or Laos in recent decades, a few more false steps and turns of irreversible misfortune may just see Siam slip into the gulf.
On the ground Thais are intellectually and politically immature making them vunerable to blatant rhetorical polital and economic exploitation. Born of their warped indoctrination of nationalist ‘virtue’ they become worryingly over enthusuastic to discard their well branded, purported national love ‘land of smile’ image for an incongruous quest for their self idealed nation, which can never work as no individual sees the same way. Class divisions are huge here, my Nana Booth’s one vivid re-collection was of a country polarised and she came here in the early 80s, history hasn’t been favourable to levelling out these discrepancies.
The most disappointing element to all this is that it all stems from a deep aminosity between two main media and political moguls who used to be close friends and business partners; Thaksin Shinawatra (who I'm sure you've all heard of) and Sondhi Limthongkul (one of the main protest organisers), people on the ground are so dumb they're willing to put their lives on the line for these super rich personalities. Neither side seems to have a set and coherent plan for what it wants apart from the other side out (or dead) and the PAD which stands for Peoples Alliance for Democracy ironically want an end to the current form of democracy in exchange for a Parliamentary appointed seats process which wouldn't really be democratic.
It’s like England dividing between Roundheads and Cavaliers but with more money, ego, yellow, red, fun and total lack of responsibilty involved. And a virile media waiting to pounce. In reality Thailand is far behind the rest of the world we live in and has been lucky not to have experienced hardship suffered akin to neighbouring Cambodia, Burma, Vietnam or Laos in recent decades, a few more false steps and turns of irreversible misfortune may just see Siam slip into the gulf.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
That Luang, Vientiane, Laos
As soon as we get on line, I'll type something, until then just look at this.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
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