The Henley Regatta

The Duchess went pallid; the Duke stood and stared
The Colonel was livid – he spluttered and glared
And the Tory Peers said, “It’s a serious matter”
When the Russians invaded the Henley Regatta…
They charged in on DMs with football scarves high
Red soccer hooligans – “Surrender or die!”
The Dynamo Kiev Boys, pissed out of their heads – 
They kicked in the gates singing “We are the Reds!”
They danced in the fountains and pissed in the water
(which grossly offended the Archbishop’s daughter)
They nicked all the strawberries and drank the champagne – 
then they took off their clothes and streaked round in the rain!
They started a ruck in the private enclosure
And Alexei got nicked for indecent exposure – 
took over the Tannoy and put on the Clash
then they danced on the seats ‘til they broke with a crash….
Then the Redskins turned up and they started to play
And it started a party which lasted all day
And it didn’t take long for the fat cats to scatter
When the Russians invaded the Henley Regatta!
Then they jumped in the water and nicked a few yachts
And they charged off to London at thirty five knots
And for weeks all the hip clubs were filled with the chatter
Of the day that the REDS Took The Henley Regatta!


(Attilla The Stockbroker)


Well, yes there’s plenty of good old Class War going on if you’re up for it, but to be honest a stroppy pissed chav is the same as a bugled-up, braying toff. Both are a pain in the arse but get over any inverted snobbery you might have and the Henley Regatta will be a total whoopee-cushion.


Word of warning: For the low-rent types such as me, it's best to avoid anything further up the course (i.e. towards the finish in Henley itself) than the Barn Bar which is about half-a-mile from the start. It gets hellishly packed with assorted Rupert’s and Henrietta’s, with all the self-awareness of John McCrirrick, who spread out their vast hampers and champers over an already-narrow towpath. The result being a traffic jam of M25 proportions and your tolerance for your fellow man plummets as you fight to move down the course.


Get yourself sorted out nice and early, right down at the start opposite Temple Island. For a start (ho-ho) it’s far less crowded, secondly there are a fair amount of non-rowing entertainments (bar, bouncy castle etc) to keep everyone amused for the day and finally of course, it’s where you get to see the crews really put the hammer down, going through the gears and cranking out some serious torque, to get their boats off and away and put early pressure on their opponents.


Because make no mistake folks, if you don’t get rocked mightilly on two crews going hell for leather, side by side, mano-a-mano down the Thames, giving it everything, then your sporting compass needs serious adjustment. You won’t have heard of the majority of crews or crew members but that doesn’t matter. Pick one and cheer them on, in the understanding they’ve trained for this since last September and dreamt dreams of competing and winning here for even longer. 


They’re not going to kiss their club badge on a Saturday and demand a loyalty bonus on a Monday. 


They’re not going to fall out of Faces nightclub, Essex on the arm of a pneumatic starlet / thick-as-mince hunk. 


They’re not on £80k a week. 99.9% of them will not see that in a career. In some ways it’s very insular and victory here seems purely for the acknowledgement of those few in the know about rowing, but what the hell. These four days are about them, the athletes and they put on a show like Sinatra at Madison Square Gardens.


Just pick a crew and cheer them because, well, that’s what you do at sporting events. It’s the basic childish enjoyment of play, untainted by cynical commercialism and, come on, a jug of Pimms, a scorching sun, an ice-cream van and a bouncy castle for the little ‘un, just a stone’s throw away and top class sport in a beautiful natural environment, what is there NOT to love about Henley?


Strip away the class preconceptions and that’s all you are left with and surely we can all get behind the idea of something as basically 'fun' as that.

A big job for a bigger man

After England's underwhelming exit from Euro 2012, I keep reading that 'Roy Hodgson would have been slated by the media and fans if he hadn't picked Rooney.'


I'm sorry but it is Hodgson's (very well-paid) job to make thos big decisions.


This isn't blame Rooney for England's exit. Our nation's footballing performances go way beyond the effect of one man. But Rooney has not kicked on in tournament football since his stellar debut in Europe 2004. On the contrary, he has gone backwards and has been a red-card in waiting to boot.


However, like David Beckham and Bryan Robson before him, he has somehow become this talismanic figure without whom England are destined to, er, exit early from the tournament (hang on I'll get back to you on that.)


Instead he was allowed to become this malign influence on the English camp. Imagine you are an English forward knowing you would be dropped for the Ukraine game, no matter how well you played, because the gentlemen of the Fourth Estate have decided that Rooney is England's best player (despite no evidence to that fact internationally) and must be selected for this tournament, despite in all likelihood, having a minimal impact on it.


Rooney rolls up unfit, blowing like a train after 20 minutes but assured of his place because, well, he's Wayne Rooney.


Until we have a man with the cojones to make his own decisions and to hell with the press and an over-excitable public, we will have more of the same for the rest of time.

Vorsprung Durch Something

A weekend away in Munich then, and the German's just 'get it', when it comes to sport and recreation.

Okay, this is viewed through a tourist's eyes and of course a few days, in sunny conditions away from the rain of an English summer, is no basis to paint a dogmatic picture of a nation but a few observations:

• There are far fewer morbidly obese Germans in comparison to our nation
• There are noticeably fewer fast-food outlets; at the Sunday market in the city centre there were three stalls selling fresh fruit within a 50 metres space and very popular they were too.
• The city is incredibly 'cycle-friendly' with safe cycle routes on the pavements down most major thoroughfares and pretty much every minor one. Again, these were well-used
• In the English Garden urban park (think Central Park in New York or Hyde Park in London, there were climbing walls, river swimming, river surfing (an eye-opener this!), low-rope walking, racquet games as well as mass participation football, volleyball and other team sports, all taking part on an impromptu basis. In short, the emphasis was on active participation in outdoor events organised on a 'do-it-yourself basis.
• There was little evidence of 'Game Boy' consoles and the like amongst the children. They were too busy running around.
• The Olympic Park complex that was home to the 1972 Games is still a working, large scale sports facility.

Where does this emphasis on a healthy lifestyle come from? Who can say.

It must help being an economic powerhouse and having some measure of disposable income, the ability to invest public funds in infrastructure and being time-rich, but these are not unique to Germany. I imagine there is political will to legislate in favour of this kind of culture (the Green Party influence perhaps). Perhaps also (hide! Run for cover!) the legacy of the perfect Teutonic physical specimen from the relatively recent Nazi era, highlighted in German culture by Leni Riefenstahl, still burns strongly.

Whatever the reasons, one cannot fail to be impressed by the German attitude to health and fitness.

Spot The Difference

March 23rd 2012 Harry Redknapp responds to suggestions that his name being touted for the England job has had an effect on results. 'Absolute nonsense. That's the biggest load of nonsense I've ever heard in my life. They don't care whether I'm manager next year. They wouldn't lose any sleep over that.' 'Footballers play the game, they come in every day and train. Someone else walks in here tomorrow-the king is dead, long live the king. They don't worry. They don't think 'Harry is going to England' or 'he is going to go somewhere else''.

June 5th 2012 Harry Redknapp responds to lack of clarity over his contract. 'The simple situation is, I've got a year left on my contract. It's up to Tottenham whether they want to extend that contract or not. If they don't extend it and I go into my last year, it's not an easy one when players know you've only got a year left. 'It's not a case of me looking for security. What it's about is players knowing you've got a year left on your contract, and knowing that it doesn't work, basically. I think it's a situation of 'well he might not be here next year.'

You may suppose that the media and Harry aren't giving each other mutual hand-jobs and that a journo (other than a crappy little blogger) has the nouse and the balls to question him about this, rather than just sit, swilling champers, in First Class on the Gravy Train.  

'Triffic'

Problem Gambling

Take time to understand the nuances of the Form book, research a well-constructed bet, wait until the market is stretched to the point where it most in your favour, then strike like a Cobra with a pre-determined amount of cash.

Do all that and the world will think you have a problem with gambling.

Place bets on the future earning power of people too dumb to write their name on a mortgage application form and continue to do the same to the point of bankruptcy - and the hitherto free-marketeers of central government will pass the hat round the rest of Europe to help ease your situation


http://www.google.co.uk/

'WHAT DRAMA HERE I FANCY!'

It's great there’s no Motty in the BBC commentary box anymore

Superannuated old bampot! Should have been put out to graze ages ago. We’re all supposed to love him because he’s some kind of backbone of the sporting firmament and the viewing public are this jittery mass of neuroses, which somehow need the emollient that only a welter of his soothing statistics can provide.

Well to hell with that nonsense. 


We suffered him for years, breaking open the poppers and the Kleenex if England so much as wins a throw in. Belming away like a total Joey when he gets an opportunity to trot out some dusty old stat that he’s discovered in the fag end of the Internet the night before, when he’s been doing his homework like the retard swot we all secretly suspect him to be.

It’s time for one of the little nobodies – maybe a Guy Mowbray, who knows – to step into the sunshine and commentate their genitals off.

Just as long as the BBC don’t get it into their heads to stick Alan Green on the box.

I doubt the Polish and Ukrainian building industry have constructed tungsten re-enforced gantries to deal with the combined weight of his adipose tissue and his ego. A whole month of his sneering diatribes against officialdom is more than flesh and blood can stand. Green gets every decision right by the way, even from a minimum of 30 yards distance, his peevish sarcasm usually ending with the word ‘Shocking!’ spat out as if to brook no argument from his audience or co-commentators.

A whip round for Jimmy Armfield to reward him for slotting Green, next time he goes off on one. I'm in for a tenner. Are you with me?

Bread and Circuses (or something better)

Listen to any radio phone-in, or visit any online forum discussing London 2012 and the inevitable question of the cost of the games to the taxpayer, is inevitably raised.

My visceral reaction is an inner scream and the stifling of a rant about folks who know the ‘price of everything and the value of nothing’, but that won’t wash if the majority of the country is to get as excited about the Games as I am.

I think the first point must be to acknowledge the concerns that some people have regarding the cost of the games. Times are tough and even though I think it’s a jaundiced view, the Olympics can be seen as 21^st Century ‘bread and circuses’ for a country where some Britons still go hungry and homeless.

Of course, this is a perfectly legitimate view to hold and immediately captures the moral high ground; how can one defend one penny spent on leisure and recreation if that could otherwise be put towards another dialysis machine?

You can never win a debate with anyone with such trenchant views. However, for me, such people are ghetto area, no-platform tub-thumpers who will never listen to any other point of view and can be left at the margins. I prefer to engage with folks who will at least listen to an alternative perspective.

Personally, I’m not a great one for macro-economic theorising and attempting to get my head around the economic pump-priming that capital spending on the Olympics and the effect on the balance of payments of tourist visiting London next month will have on the economy. I believe the net benefit will be to generate a surplus, but I will leave that to Lord Coe and Robert Peston to argue!

I think it’s more a question of attempting to fire the imagination of the naysayers about the overwhelming positive and galvanising effect a successful Olympics will have on the nation. Not just in terms of medals won or PB’s achieved by our athletes. How about this being a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the world to see Britains not as boorish hooligans, but as friendly and hospitable (for the most part)? What about the opportunity for us to throw off the grim, stoic persona we seem to portray on the World stage and to, you know, welcome the world to the biggest carnival going?

I don’t know what the opening ceremony will be like but imagine a showcase of Britain’s artistic talent? Fill in your own cultural heroes and paint your own picture here, but Wayne Sleep choreographing Darcy Bussell, dressed by Stella McCartney executing routines set to Noel Gallagher’s music? Sounds exciting to me!

As someone vaguely connected with a potential Olympian I am extremely privileged to witness first hand the effort and sacrifice our children, brothers, sisters and friends are putting in. I share the straight-up pride they have in themselves, their teams and their nation, a pride that you wish you could bottle up and give to everyone viewing the Games through the prism of what money could better be spent on.

Regarding the Olympics, priority number one for me is to support their attempts to get to London 2012 and to then be at concert-pitch for their events in a few weeks time.

But after that, I really want to be part of something that is going to enervate the nation and bury the negativity that (seemingly) so many still have about the Olympics in London.