Sam Allardyce Reveals Unsavoury Side After Blackburn Debut

by Alex Dimond

Big Sam — dishonest?

 

On Saturday Sam Allardyce enjoyed the perfect start to his Blackburn managerial career, enjoying a 3-0 win over fellow strugglers Stoke City. 

For many, the result itself was the story of the weekend — marking as it did the return to form of a side that had begun to look dead and buried under Paul Ince.

For others, however, it was Allardyce’s post-match actions that were the most intriguing. Ever since a 2006 Panorama documentary — one that suggested “Big Sam” and his son, Craig, had accepted bungs as part of transfer dealings while at Bolton Wanderers — Allardyce had resolutely refused to talk to the BBC.

On Saturday, however, Allardyce was more than happy to speak to the BBC’s John Murray at great length after his side’s “near perfect” win.

Reports of Pop’s death have been greatly exaggerated

It was Dr. Pepper that did it. Promising a free can to everyone in America seems to have embarrassed Axl Rose in a way that the multi-million dollar ‘hurry-up’ payments and tales of chicken coops in the recording studio did not. And with a cheery “what’s the worst that could happen?” Chinese Democracy was released in November, a mere 15 years after Guns N’ Roses’ previous effort.

And 2008 seemed to be the year of the comeback for aging rockers, with new material from The Verve, Paul Weller and Oasis, along with news that Britpop rivals Blur are to reform. In pop, Britney and Boyzone returned, with varying degrees of success, while Snap’s Rhythm is a Dancer blasted its way back into the charts, presumably on the back of Brains from Thunderbirds pulling shapes around bottled water.

Katy Perry has kissed more girls than The Equivalent this year

But most of all, 2008 was a great year for quality, well-written pop, with new-comers Katy Parry and Alphabeat laying down the challenge to established acts. So much so that picking 10 songs of the year out of songs that have made the top 40 takes a huge amount of whittling down. This is why I can’t bring myself to agree with Phil Seaman that the late 2000s have been devoid of pop classics.

Albums of 2008

…or at least those according to Phil Seaman

10/Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Dig!!! Lazerus Dig!!!

Continuing in the same vein as Grinderman, this album continues Nick Cave’s recent success with an uptempo, aggressive stomp through the American post-grunge wilderness

9/British Sea Power – Do You Like Rock Music?

Poor sales figures could not distract critics from loving the latest album from British Sea Power, daring to walk the line between string-laced pomp and melodic introspection with more than a passing reference to Arcade Fire

8/TV On The Radio – Dear Science

Funky, dancable and yet highly listenable whilst chilling out, Dear Science has a depth that is often lacking in full length dance albums as a result of great songwriting and passionate performances

7/Vampire Weekend – Vampire Weekend

Thrust from the States with more than a little help from African music, basic melodies and simple instrumentation is the basis for one of the few highly original indie albums released this year

Leonard Cohen’s Christmas Wishes Come True

You’ve got to feel for Leonard Cohen, because he certainly hasn’t had things go his way over the last five or so years. The Canadian singer-songwriter and writer had probably been looking forward to a nice little retirement, quietly seeing out the rest of his days in the way that he spent most of the rest of his life.

Recognised as an introspective man capable of complex lyrics that could possibly touch on sex, religion and personal loss, or all three things at the same time, Cohen has, for right or wrong, been described many a time as the razor to cut those arteries.  Maybe this is because the man himself suffered for depression through much of his life.

Babestation: could Iran be right on this one?

Never one to be told ‘write about what you know’, Will Nichols, a single man, ponders TV and Onanism

For those yet to venture to the outer frontiers of their Digibox, Babestation (go on, click the link – no one’s watching) is a vision of what all TV would be like were the networks scheduled by fourteen-year olf FHM subscribers. Using similar technology to the nest-cams from Springwatch,  four screens display the dubious talent that England’s provincial clubs have to offer, rolling and rubbing and smiling at you.

Amazingly, the girls manage all this while on the phone. I can’t even type at the same time, but they’re off humping and pumping on screen whilst relaying this information in such intricate detail you suspect they can only be catering for a sizeable blind audience. It’s possible that many viewers has perfect vision before encountering Babestation, but their actions since…well, you get the picture.

Ayatollah Khamenei probably isn't a Babestation viewer

For your premium rate penny you, the drooling viewer too timid for strip clubs, can pose the dolls: bend them over, demand that they get various parts of themselves ‘out’ or – amazingly and bizarrely common – ask them to show you their feet. One has to hope that someone is coming out ahead here, because sure as  sure can be, everyone involved is heading for Dante’s pit.

It’s programmes like Babestation that make you wonder if Ahmadinejad might have a point after all. Under totalitarian Islamic discipline and censorship, Iran has massed $70bn in foreign exchange reserves. Meanwhile, we’re literally fiddling while Rome burns, spanking ourselves silly as our economic foundations crumble and the whole darn cathedral of ‘decadent capitalism collapses around our ears.

In the absence of clear leadership from Brown, Paulsen et al, I guess saving the world as we know it has fallen at my door – again. Contrary to the pun-tastic but ultimately ‘bully in the playground’ tactics of freezing Iceland’s assets – clearly Brown doesn’t have a small cat he can give a good shoeing – Babestation can drag us out of the mire.

Picture the scene: in a rented Daventry home, a band if enterprising, if lunar-skinned, ex-Lehman Brothers employees found their own show. With equipment borrowed from Bill Oddie, currently in a fallow period, they steadfastly refuse to alter the bumping and grinding formula, and even export it overseas. Although probably not to Iran.

By owning their own phone-lines they wrest control of their own means of production back from the wasteful, bourgeois pornographers. Soon, Britain’s shrivelled financial services sector is rocking back on forth on the command of lonely foreign businessmen. The pound soars. George Soros, sensing a profit, begins scouring Essex nightclubs for the next entrepreneuse. Britain out-Hollands Holland.

This all slots nicely into the Soviet system nationalising the banks has kick-started and, more to the point, surely amateur porn encapsulates the paradise Marx envisaged.

Is Guardiola Taking Risks Ahead of First Real Test?

by Alex Dimond

Guardiola — probably knows what he is doing...

 

So far so very, very good for Barcelona manager Josep “Pep” Guardiola.

His side sit proudly atop La Liga, and are comfortably through to the knockout stages of the Champions League.

Having replaced Frank Rijkaard — the manager who brought the 2006 Champions League trophy back to the Nou Camp — in the summer, a lot of pressure was on the unproven Guardiola. Having had no previous jobs, the former Spanish international’s only coaching experience was gained last season while working with the Barcelona B squad.

Yes, Guardiola was an outstanding player for the club (he played 263 games for them), but could he possibly replicate such feats as a manager?

Well, after an initial rocky spell — the Catalan giants failed to win either of their opening two league matches — the answer so far seems to be a resounding yes.

Schmid Sees Areas For Improvement After Esher Defeat

By Alex Dimond

 

Esher Rugby — as surprised as anyone to feature on The Equivalent...

 

Esher’s Director of Rugby Mike Schmid remains upbeat, despite Saturday’s narrow 13-18 loss against Bedford Blues.

The defeat leaves the Surrey club 13^th in the table — eleven points from safety — while Bedford move up to 4^th. Schmid believes that the match was even tighter than the scoreline suggests, and hinged on a couple of key moments:

“When we strayed away from the plan, we let ourselves down at key times,” the former Canadian international said. “The difference in the first half was our sin bin [David Millard, for not retreating at a penalty], and they took their try scoring chances. We had two chances, and didn’t take either one.”

Despite being 15-3 down just minutes after half-time, Schmid was encouraged by what he saw in the remainder of the match:

“In the second half we controlled the tempo, and we controlled the game. I think the people that were watching saw a team that was doing everything to win a game.”

Nevertheless, Schmid believes the team has a lot of room for improvement, particularly in attack. “When we get into the opposition third, we have got to come away with more points than we are,” he said.

What We Learned This Weekend… Premiership Week 16

With the terrible puns, Alex Dimond

E-boo-ue? Oh dear....

 

Welcome to this week’s “What We Learned This Weekend”, where an inquisitive eye is cast over some of the key storylines that have emerged from this weekend’s Premier League action.

 

The Pressure is Getting to Blackburn’s Ince

As the fallout from Roy Keane’s shock departure at Sunderland (verdict: the Irishman is a quitter) begins to subside, the press are obviously keen to whip up a new story surrounding another manager’s precarious position. As a result, the spotlight has well and truly fallen on Paul Ince.

Yes, Ince has not had the greatest starts to life at Ewood Park, but that does not mean he is already deserving of the sack. After all, Rovers lost their most influential player in the summer—David Bentley—and one of the finest goalkeepers in the league—Brad Friedel—without being able to spend much money improving the squad.  

As a result, what could the board and fans expect? Was Ince ever really going to approach Blackburn’s 7^th place finish last time out?

Popular Music 2009 and beyond

Phil Seaman idly speculates

It’s probably true when looking at mainstream music, the mid-to-late 2000’s have been the worst years in music for a considerable time in terms of originality, long lasting appeal and progression.

Justice

It’s probably worth a book in itself to cover previous supposed lulls in musical creativity; for every person who thought that the mid-Eighties were full of synth pop with mullets and bad dancing, there’s a person who loves the fact that the mid-Eighties were full of synth pop with mullets and bad dancing.

Probably the last period that is referred to as being absolutely dire is, according to critic Tim Page, 1974. This is the period between Glam and Punk, between post-Motown soul and Funk/Disco, a musical no-mans land. Manufactured, soulless pop ruled supreme and the singer songwriter earned his/her reputation as being an overly emotional, twee twat.

The worst year in music since then is definitely 2006, in which manufactured pop under nobodies such as Shayne Ward flourished, James Blunt won TWO Brit awards, Hard-Fi held the key to success for Indie and even Leo Sayer managed a #1 hit. It was the same old, same old and whilst Electro flourished under the cover of darkness in up and coming seedy bars, there appeared to be no future, no brilliance and no individuality to anyone in the business.

Where the hell do we go from here?

Should a Man Enjoy The X Factor?

by Alex Dimond

 

The X Factor — funny stuff.

 

As I sit here, in my comfortable yet somehow sterile room, one question of extreme importance keeps running through my head. It’s the sort of question that probably used to keep Boutros Boutros Ghali up all night, when he was UN Secretary-General.

As a man, is it alright to like The X Factor?

I know, I know — I should be focusing on more important matters, like the 3,000 word essay I need to get finished by tomorrow. But right now, as Eoghan (although everyone insists on calling him Owen) prances around the stage performing a cheeky ABBA number, I can’t help but wonder whether I should even be watching the show, let alone enjoying it.

Cleveland Browns Fans Just Need a Little Perspective

 

by Alex Dimond

Edwards and Quinn can achieve great things

 

 

As a Browns fan from across the pond in Britain, following my team is not always that easy.

Sure, the team’s five live televised games this season gave me a greater than normal opportunity to see how things were going, but many of them have been (and are still to be) televised at a time that doesn’t really fit in that well with my sleeping patterns.

As a result, most of my information comes from the short highlights shown on NFL.com, and the many articles around the internet that pass comment on my adopted team.

At the moment, the mood surrounding the organisation is hugely pessimistic. This is not without good reason — after all, the team is currently 4-8, relying on its third-string quarterback, and has a General Manager with a penchant for firing off expletive strewn emails to any fan that dares to offer some (constructive) criticism.

For many Browns fans, the 2008 season is already a complete disaster — made even more disappointing considering the huge optimism that arose from the 10-6 term enjoyed last year.

As a result, perhaps not unnaturally, many fans are calling for wholesale changes to be made — both to the playing and coaching staff — to prevent a similarly abject performance next year round.

Now, feel free to dismiss my opinion out of hand, but I don’t think this sort of knee-jerk reaction is what is called for.

A bad season — especially in the NFL — doesn’t make a bad team.

I’m just asking for a little perspective.

Downhill at 24? This boy wants more, more, more…

Today is my 24th birthday. One little year away from having ran around this giddy globe for a quarter of a century. I hadn’t given too much thought to this fact until, in recent weeks, the repetition of the phrase, “It’s all downhill from here, mate”, has caused me a snippet of distress. It’s not the words that have rattled me, rather the steely, serious stare of those who have commented, followed by a shuffling of the feet and a peer down at the floor, “I’m serious. Trust me. I know”, they all seem to warn.
Surely this can’t be so? I’m still in my ‘early’ twenties. Still racing around after young lasses. Still playing FIFA with young rascals. Still, I believe, a young man.
Having just upped sticks from familiar Manchester, moving to the bright lights of mysterious London, surely my adventure is only just commencing. Lots of tiny place names pepper my tube map. Each one awaiting a visit from me. All inviting a different expedition for a different day. The pubs, the clubs, the churches, the rivers and the tramps. I wanna see them all.
This time last year I was juggling in the doorway of a toy shop, sneering at the little scallywag kids darting around my ankles, flinging bouncy balls across my nose. Today, I’m a budding journalist. A pivotal member of the Equivalent. Possibly the most genius collection of childish oddballs in the whole of Hillingden. And I like it.
As I strolled to collect my morning paper, I bumped into around five buddies, guys and gals, all smiling, waving, wishing me a happy birthday. I felt like that chocolate fella on the Lynx adverts. But with a better moustache. A new day. A new year. It’s ever so enthralling.
So, to those who forewarn the slippery slope of the 24 year old, I say, “Nay! I am the Archbishop of ambition. My journey is at it’s onset!”
All downhill from here? Fiddlesticks. I’ve never been so bloody excited.

onwards and upwards!

The Future

Over a good few snifters of brandy in the gentleman’s club yesterday evening, the distinguished Sir William Nichols and I found ourselves deep in animated discussion. Matters of great import, you understand. Stocks and shares, war in the colonies, moustache cultivation, that sort of thing. Affairs of the day. All of a sudden our merry banter was interrupted by the crass blasting of the television. I adjusted my monocle and what should I see in the garish glow but the latest promotional reel from Girls Aloud, the popular cabaret combo and thinking man’s crumpet. Naturally the very sight of these fawning sirens stirred my loins most inconveniently, but it also led me to speculate on where such ravishing backstreet beauties might find themselves two decades hence…

Let us begin with Nadine, Belfast’s finest. Slender, doe-eyed, almost alien. After the hits dry up and she has been entirely remoulded in plastic - her face contorted into a deranged grimace from one too many poisonous injections - the poor creature will be fit only for a life of hermitry as a mad recluse. Whether this means she’ll consign herself to a decaying mansion on Sunset Boulevard, an abandoned theme park or a remote isle off the icy wastes of Sweden, who can say? What is for sure is that there’s a fitting symmetry here. She was pieced together from old ideas by Mr Cowell - that most modern Prometheus - and will promptly be cast back as disfigured and mangled as her accent into the obscurity from whence she came. A bleak prognosis yes, but the classic morality tale for all those who sign a pact with the devil in high trousers.

I feel certain that fate will smile (slightly) more favourably on her compatriots, however. The ginger jaffa will doubtless capitalise on her startling resemblance to the young Cilla Black and dredge up that hoariest of old chestnuts, Blind Date, for an inevitable revivial. Needs must I suppose. Lads-periodicial stalwart Sarah Harding will in turn burn clean through her nasal septum snorting sherbert for slot machine change. She’ll be left with little more than the odd Loose Women appearance and Iceland commercial to make ends meet and will be seen in later years roaming the streets, punching paparazzi, muttering incoherently and swigging White Lightning before collapsing in an underpass, doused in a pool of her own tears. Magnificent. And dear Kimberly, shovelling haddock in a fish-and-chip emporium in small town West Yorkshire, forgotten, but not actually too sorry for it.

Cheryl Cole though is another matter. World domination beckons for that little piece of Tyneside tartlet. Having cut lose her hapless shag hound of a husband, a prominent solo career will ensue where she displays a surprising apptitude for the Jacques Brel songbook. Avant-garde experimental noise records with Steve Albini follow, as does her silver screen debut in a remake of Jules et Jim opposite Seth Rogen and Chris Tucker. Oscars, Grammies and a second-term Team Obama vice presidential candidacy crown her achievements. Yes, things are going pretty swimmingly for the one-time X Factor judge. That is, until she is assassinated while being driven around Dallas in a campaign Cadillac. The shooter? That nightclub toilet attendant she beat up all those years ago. What goes around comes around my dear…

Artists to look out for in 2009

Unperturbed by dismissing the Spice Girls as one hit wonders and tipping Hawksley Workman and Carina Round (who? exactly…) for global domination, Will Nichols brings you five bands who may well be selling iPods this time next year…

The Gaslight Anthem

Sounding like The Killers would normally be a problem given Brandon Flowers’ prolificacy but with the Las Vegas boys due some time off after four albums in as many years, the Gaslight Anthem may have struck gold. Sure, they’ve got enough nods to The Boss to pull off the whole blue-collar New Jersey image – check out the hats and leather jackets – but somehow it’s unconvincing. They’re all a bit too pretty. If CD:UK was still going, these guys would be huge; unfortunately for them, they have to rely on Radio 1 latching on and exciting all those kids in River Island checked shirts.

The ’59 Sound is out now
Top Track: Old White Lincoln

The Gaslight Anthem: pretty

Florence and the Machine

You know how you kind of fall in love with talented women on stages, how they don’t need a spotlight because they’re radiating their own light somehow? Well, as a live act Florence burns like the sun. You pretty much know you’re watching someone special if they keep in tune whilst chasing their keyboard player around the stage and hurdling the drum kit. If the world actually worked properly she would own it instead of propping up the bill of the NME Awards Tour. Beware following the link: she might ruin you for normal women. That said, if there’s a couple of us stumbling around, dazzled, perhaps we can start a support group or something.

Top Track: Between two lungs

Dent May and his magnificent ukulele

First, a confession: I know nothing about this band. Zip, nada. Yeah, you might say that about most of the band here but Dent May is well beyond my threshold of ignorance. But if you like your Ronettes with a twist of French pop, Dent May might well fill that long-term vacancy you’ve had for a Mississippi-based, lo-fi Jens Lekman impersonator.

Top Track: Pierce Avenue

VV Brown

Gravity-defying hair is just one of this Northampton born singer’s charms. Model height and looks, and with a deft line in stage patter, she was writing songs for the Pussycat Dolls and the Sugababes until, flat broke, she sold her keyboard to buy a ticket home. Installed in her aunt’s attic she had written her album, Travelling Like the Light, within weeks. Island loved it, bought it and her subsequent success is so cliched I’m almost embarrassed to mention it. She performed Crying Blood on Jools Holland, was name-checked in Vogue and, well, you can write your own ending, but ‘superstar’ is in there somewhere.

Travelling like the Light is out early 2009
Top Track: Crying Blood (Challenge: try not shouting out “the moooooonster mash over the chorus)

Emmy the Great

I tip Emmy for actual greatness every year, and every year she remains firmly on the outskirts. Seriously Emmy, you’re showing me up here. At least an album, First Love, is scheduled for 2009, which should shunt Emmy and her collaborators – now seemingly part of a gestalt Emmy the Great – into the limelight, and I might FINALLY get some recognition.

Top Track: We almost had a baby (but check out the Where is my Mind cover)

The Grants

No less a blowhard that Alan Mcgee has annointed The Grants as the best unsigned band in the world. This is partially true – they are unsigned. Frankly, I just plain don’t like The Grants, but I thought I’d best include them because they’re probably going to be huge. Glasvegas huge. Strictly for those who lament the passing of Lowgold.

Top Track: My games

Will Nichols will return with his favourite songs of 2008, but he needs more time to think about that.

The blandest of car crashes

“Learn to see in another’s calamity the ills which you should avoid.”

Publilius Syrus
(~100 BC)

These words of wisdom are meaningless.

Today I watched another’s calamity that should have avoided me. It was 11.50am, I had just completed my journey from home to University and was in the process of locating a vacant parking position when a terrible incident occurred. It is almost unspeakable, unrepeatable. Well definitely my heated response was!

The car in front of me decided to brake, stop to a halt and then reverse into me. It was all in slow-mo, like a Nicklas Bendtner turn. I could see it happening, it was inevitable, but part of me thought it couldn’t happen, it was too ridiculous. The car just kept reversing and reversing, until it reversed too far.

I jumped out of my car in sheer panic. Could my little mincey car be damaged? Will it be OK? Will it live to live another day? I suggest if anyone is faint hearted or squeamish then they shouldn’t look at the next image as it is very graphic.

pull up to my bumper baby!!

Now you are all probably thinking it’s only a little crack and you would be right! The driver and I have decided to settle out of court for a princely sum obtained from the cash machine outside the union. I plan to buy a new pine fragrance smelly, to mask the glove box smell and spend the rest during man hour.

As some of you may be aware I cannot give any further details regarding this incident as the matter was settled out of court under those specific terms. If any of you are interested in reading up similar legal cases I suggest looking at Cromwell v Bumpy Carriage Hemorrhoid Treatments PLC (1645) which can be found in Phil Seamen’s law book.