This blogger has made the following observation before, dear fiends - twice, in fact, here and here, but it bears repeating. Karma is, as we all know, a right bloody bitch, dear blog readers. And gloating is so common and unbecoming. Most of the time. With all that in mind, therefore, let us talk association football - not and never socher - which is a sport played between two teams of eleven players - or, if Dirty Leeds are one of them, two teams of nine. Or eight - using a spherical ball. Because, using a square one would be bloody ridiculous. It is widely considered to be the most popular participation and spectator sport on the planet. Except in the USA where they don't even use its proper name and think it's something that girls play. The object is to score a goal by getting the ball into the opposing team's net and then stopping them from doing the same to your side. It's a game of two halves, Brian and, at the end of ninety minutes the team which scores the most goals will emerge victorious and be Over The Moon whilst the other lot will be Sick As A Parrot. Or, to put it another way, it's a game of two halves and as much injury time as needed for whomsoever the ref has got a tenner on at Ladbroke's to score the winner. Unless it's a draw, of course.
This blogger mentions all of this because, when this blogger's own favourite football team were founded, they had a different name, a different ground and extremely different shirts (and socks) to what we would subsequently become used to. They looked like this. And, The Married Women's Property Act received its royal assent, enabling women to buy, own and sell property. There are some who still think that was a bad idea. This blogger is not one of them.
When this blogger's favourite football team first gained entry into the equivalent of what is, now, the English Football League Championship (it was called 'The Second Division' in them days), they had changed their shirts (and socks) and looked like this. And, William Ewart Gladstone was the Prime Minister of Great Britain and her vast empire.
When this blogger's favourite football team first won promotion to the top flight of English football, they looked like this. And, at the Battle of Omdurman, British and Egyptian troops under the command of General Horatio Kitchener (he needed you) defeated Sudanese tribesmen led by Khalifa Abdullah al-Taashi.
When this blogger's favourite football team - for a period of about seven years - were the undisputed Finest Side In All The Land, Bar None (winning three league championships and an FA Cup), they looked like this. And, American-born Samuel Franklin Cody made the first powered fixed-wing aircraft flight in Britain, taking off from the School of Ballooning, Farnborough, in British Army Aeroplane Number One.
Then the war came along. And the Kaiser was defeated. When this blogger's favourite football team won the FA Cup for the second time (the first at Wembley Stadium which had only opened the year before) they looked like this. And, George Mallory and Andrew Irvine attempted to climb Mount Everest. Which it cost both of them their lives.
When this blogger's favourite football team won the First Division championship for the fourth (and, to date, last) time, they looked like this. And, the London and North Eastern Railway's Flying Scotsman steam-hauled express began to run non-stop the three hundred and ninety miles of the East Coast Main Line from King's Cross to Edinburgh.
When this blogger's favourite football team won the FA Cup for the third time, they looked like this. And, billionaire chocolateer Forrest Mars produced the first Mars Bar™ at his Slough factory.
Having then got themselves relegated for the first time, this blogger's favourite football team spent fifteen years down among the also-rans of the second tier. (Admittedly, this period did include all of World War II during which time football wasn't, exactly, the first thing on most people's minds.)
The next occasion that this blogger's favourite football team won promotion back to the First Division - despite having found it necessary to sell Albert Stubbins, Tommy Pearson, Charlie Wayman, Roy Bentley and Len Shackelton in just a few months - they looked like this. And, the London Co-operative Society opened Britain's first supermarket, in Manor Park, London.
The fourth and the fifth occasions that this blogger's favourite football team won the FA Cup took place in a twelve month period during which Britain changed monarchs and Sooty first appeared on BBC Television.
The sixth (and, to date, final) time that this blogger's favourite football team won the FA Cup, Winston Churchill resigned as Prime Minister due to ill-health at the age of eighty and was replaced by Anthony Eden (who wasn't all that much younger, to be fair).
But, thirteen years of, broadly successful, top flight football came to an end with yet another disastrous relegation. Caused, perhaps, by this blogger's favourite football team deciding to change their socks and look like this. And, The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) performed under that name at The Cavern Club in Matthew Street, Liverpool for the first time following their return from their first residency in Hamburg.
The next time this blogger's favourite football team won promotion back to the First Division (having changed their socks yet again), they looked like this. William Hartnell was The Doctor and the British Railways Board's chairman, Richard Beeching, published The Development Of The Major Trunk Routes proposing which lines should receive investment. And which, by implication, should most definitely not.
The last time this blogger's favourite football team won a major trophy (the Inter-City Fairs Cup), they looked like this. Patrick Troughton was The Doctor and The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) performed together in public for the final time, on the rooftop of Apple Records HQ in London.
Although, technically, one could regard the blogger's favourite football team winning The Anglo-Italian Cup when looking likethis as worthy of an ever-so-brief mention.
Or, indeed, winning The Texaco Cup. Twice. The latter whilst looking like this.
On the next occasion that this bloger's favourite football team reached the final of a domestic cup competition (and got a right howking off Liverpool - perhaps due to changing their socks yet again) they loked like this. Jon Pertwee was The Doctor and Great Britain was subject to two general erections in an eight months period. Neither of which was won by the Tories.
The first time that this blogger's favourite football team reached the final of The League Cup (and, lost again), they looked like this. Ton Baker was The Doctor and the UK won The Eurovision Song Contest for the third time with 'Save Your Kisses for Me' by Brotherhood of Man.
Another, largely self-inflicted and thoroughly depressing relegation campaign followed soon afterwards. The next time this blogger's favourite football team won promotion, they looked like this. Peter Davison was The Doctor and comedian and national treasure Tommy Cooper collapsed and died on-stage from a heart attack during the television show Live from Her Majesty's.
The good times didn't last long, however and five years later this blogger's favourite football team found themselves back in the Second Division (and, in serious financial trouble due in no small part to them having signed far too many ridiculously overpaid, lazy waste-of-space gutless cowards). But, a quasi-revolution was about to be sparked thanks to the acquisition of a talismanic leader. Therefore, the next time this blogger's favourite football team won promotion, they looked like this. And Doctor Who was a TV programme that the BBC used to make.
An exciting decade followed with five top four finishes in the Premier League (including twice as runner-up), a couple of thrilling European adventures and two appearances in the FA Cup final (albeit, on both occasions the team turned up but then forgot to actually play). The next two occasions that this blogger's favourite football team appeared in - back-to-back - Wembley finals, they looked like this. Paul McGann had recently been The Doctor but, once again, the franchise was resembling a Norwegian Blue parrot. And, The Good Friday Agreement was signed.
The last time that this blogger's favourite football team played in the Champions League they looked like this. Two members of the current Match of The Day analysis panel were playing for them. And, Doctor Who was now a series of books being published by the BBC (including four written or co-written by this blogger. Two of which are all right).
Then, Sir Bobby Robson got sacked and everything went to Hell in a handcart. Although, to be fair to his replacement, Graeme Sourpuss, he did deliver the much-prized UEFA Intertoto Cup, when this blogger's favourite football team looked like this. Christopher Eccleston was The Doctor and campaigners from Fathers-4-Justice invaded the set of The National Lottery. With hilarious consequences.
A period of calamitious and crass mismanagement at boardroom level resulted in yet another relegation. When David Tennant was The Doctor (so, it wasn't all bad news). Nevertheless, Th' Toon bounced back at the first time of asking, whilst looking like this. Matt Smith was The Doctor. And, a general erection resulted in the first well-hung parliament since the 1930s.
Developing, thence, a reputation for being up-and-down more often than the knickers of some of the lasses doon Th' Bigg Market, this blogger's favourite football team slithered to another disgracefully incompetent and cowardly relegation. But, thanks to the hiring of - for the first time in a while - a manager who vaguely knew what the Hell he was doing, they won another promotion at the first attempt whilst looking like this. Peter Capaldi was The Doctor and an online petition to stop US President Rump's UK state visit gathered more than 1.8 million signatures. But, being someone who can't take a hint, he came anyway.
Then, Ashley got his fat arse bought out of our club by some people who appeared to actually have a decent idea of how to actual run a piss up in a brewery (much to the pitious whinging of some Middle Class hippy Communist Gruniad Morning Star types, which made it even funnier). Eddie Howe was appointed manager and gave players, whom his predecessor as manager (nasty to see him, to see him nasty) couldn't get much out of, some belief in their own abilities. And now, this blogger's favourite football team look like this. And, his beloved (and now, mercifully, sold) Magpies are back in the Champions League for the first time in two decades. Which is nice.
Wor Geet Canny Eddie's black-and-white-army did it the hard way, admittedly, sharing a goaless draw with relegation-haunted Leicester City at a nervous, edgy St James' Park. The Magpies hit the woodwork three times and had almost ninety per cent of possession in the game but struggled to break down Leicester's back ten. And then, deep, deep into five minutes of injury time, The Foxes almost snatched a winner with their first shot on goal all night. Thankfully, Nick The Pope made his latest outstanding contribution to a season full of outstanding contributions, saving point-blank from Timothy Castagne's acrobatic effort. Then the whistle blew and the gaff went totally off-it with a mixture of relief and celebration!
It was quite a sight.
It was the 2002-03 season, under the guidance of Sir Bobby Robson, that The Magpies last played in Europe's elite club competition. Howe's men will be back in the big time following a tremendous first full season in charge in which the ex-Bournemouth boss has upset the established order with a place in the top four, as well as taking Th' Toon to the Carabao Cup final. It has been a remarkable turnaround since Howe took charge eighteen months ago, one month after the three hundred million knicker takeover of Newcastle and with the club at the time five points from safety at the foot of the Premier League.
Tell me ma, me ma, dear blog readers, I won't be home fer tea ...
'The titles are just the beginning of The Doctor's biggest adventure yet.' Moments before The Eurovision Song Contest was broadcast live from Liverpool last Saturday, BBC viewers were transported out of this world as an explosive new Doctor Who trailer gave viewers an exciting glimpse of what to expect later this year. It looks really good. The titles of the three sixtieth anniversay episodes have been revealed as The Star Beast, Wild Blue Yonder and The Giggle.
Meanwhile, extras dressed in formal Regency era costumes were spotted during Doctor Who location filming at Margam Park near Port Talbot throughout the last week. It is unknown whether any of the main cast members were present at this particular block of filming though Ncuti and Jonathan Groff were definitely not present on Wednesday evening, having gone to see Beyonce in Cardiff. Being a Timelord, seemingly, has the advantage of getitng you into the VIP area at major events! Poor Millie, though, always the bridesmaid.
All of which malarkey brings us, of course, to Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Fifty One: Hush.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Fifty Two: Spiral.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Fifty Three: Flooded.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Fifty Four: Lies My Parents Told Me.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Fifty Five: Never Kill A Boy On The First Date.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Fifty Six: I Only Have Eyes For You.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Fifty Seven: Graduation (Part One).
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Fifty Eight: Living Conditions.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Fifty Nine: Family.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Sixty: Bargaining.
Great moments in yer actual Keith Telly Topping's life, dear blog reader. Number forty seven (in an on-going series of potentially thousands but, in practice, nowhere near that many): For the third (that's third) time, this blogger has had an e-mail read out on a recent episode of his favourite podcast, Kermode & Mayo's Take. Last time this blogger was able to correct broadcasting legend Simon Mayo (MBE)'s faulty memory concerning 1960s cartoon television series. On this occasion, it was on the subject of Public Information Films (specifically, Polish A Floor & Put A Rug On It, You Might As Well Be Setting A Mantrap, aka: The Fatal Floor [1974]). As a bonus, this blogger even got an appreciative little clap from the best living film reviewer on the planet, Mark Kermode for 'you'll never hear the line "to think, he'd only just come from the hospital" in quite the same way!' For anyone interested in sharing this - wholly insignificant - moment of - crassly reflected - glory, the full episode is available here on You Tube. This blogger's bit starts at the one hour and forty seconds mark continuing for about the next four minutes. Then, there's an amusing little info-PS from Simon at one hour twelve minutes and forty seconds which concludes with a rather fine anti-Trump joke. That's never a bad thing.
For those interested in checking out the other PiF this blogger mentioned in his e-mail to the show, Play Safe - Frisbee, you can find it here. And, after quite lidderally minutes of searching around The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House, this blogger was delighted to find his (allegedly 'limited edition') two-DVD copy of Charley Says hiding in a cupboard. It can, of course, be purchased (really cheaply) from all good online DVD selling-type places. And, some bad ones, too.
We end the latest bloggerisationisms update with some appallingly sad news. Andy Rourke, the bass player with From The North favourites The Smiths, has died aged at the age of just fifty nine. Johnny Marr confirmed 'with deep sadness' that Rourke, his friend since childhood, had died after 'a lengthy illness with pancreatic cancer.' In a statement posted on Twitter, Johnny said: 'Andy will be remembered as a kind and beautiful soul by those who knew him and as a supremely gifted musician by music fans.' On his Instagram page, Marr added that the pair had remained close in later life and said it was with 'personal pride' that Andy's final performance on stage was alongside Johnny and The Killers at Madison Square Garden in September of last year. Even Morrissey, who seldom has a good word to say about anyone these days (especially in connection to The Smiths), was moved to note that Rourke 'will never die as long as his music is heard.' Andy played on all four of The Smiths' groundbreaking studio LPs (The Smiths, Meat Is Murder, The Queen Is Dead and Strangeways, Here We Come) as well as their live set Rank and their numerous singles. He also featured on solo material by Morrissey after the group broke up in 1987. In a tribute posted on his website, Morrissey said: 'I just hope wherever Andy has gone that he's okay. He didn't ever know his own power and nothing that he played had been played by someone else. His distinction was so terrific and unconventional and he proved it could be done.' Drummer Mike Joyce, tweeted: 'Not only the most talented bass player I've ever had the privilege to play with but the sweetest, funniest lad I've ever met. Andy's left the building, but his musical legacy is perpetual. I miss you so much already.' Later in his career, Andy played as part of the supergroup, Freebass with two other legendary Mancunian bassists, Mani Mounfield, of The Stone Roses and Peter Hook, of New Order. Across his decades-long career, Andy also recorded with The Pretenders, Killing Joke, Sinead O'Connor, Aziz Ibrahim and former Oasis guitarist Bonehead as Moondog One - a band which also included Joyce and Smiths' rhythm guitarist Craig Gannon. He also played with another Manchester singer-songwriter Badly Drawn Boy, joining his touring band for two years.
Andy Rourke was born in January 1964 to an English mother and an Irish father. He was interested in music from an early age and began learning the guitar aged seven. 'I always used to get a musical instrument either for Christmas or on my birthday, so I went through plastic trumpets, saxophone, keyboard - I tried a bit of everything,' he said in a 2016 interview. 'I played a bit of cello later on, but I made that up as I went along because it was needed on a Smiths record so I just bought one, tuned it up like a bass and went from there.' He struck up a friendship with Johnny Marr aged eleven. 'We were best friends, going everywhere together,' Johnny recalled. 'When we were fifteen, I moved into his house with him and his three brothers and I soon came to realise that my mate was one of those rare people that absolutely no one doesn't like.' Marr and Rourke formed their first band, Freak Party with drummer Simon Wolstencroft (subsequently of The Fall), as teenagers. The creation story of The Smiths is, of course, well-known: inspired by a South Bank Show TV documentary about the songwriting partnership Leiber and Stoller, Johnny Marr turned up, unannounced, on Steven Morrissey's doorstep, met with the singer's approval after being invited to pick a record to play and choosing The Marvelettes' 1966 B-side 'Paper Boy' and, within days, the pair had written 'The Hand That Rocks The Cradle' and 'Suffer Little Children', their extraordinary mournful meditation on the horror of the Moors murders: immediate evidence that the partnership and the band it spawned, would - as Marr later put it - 'do things differently.' Johnny's excellent 2016 autobiography Set The Boy Free more-or-less confirms the story. But, the book also suggested another genesis point for The Smiths, several years earlier, when Johnny was assigned by his school's headmaster to 'keep an eye' on, a troubled fellow pupil called Andrew Rourke. Hailing from a noticeably more monied background than Marr's own, Andy had effectively been left to his own devices by his divorced parents and developed a drug habit that would eventually encompass heroin dependancy. The Smiths initially tried to do without Rourke, but could not: after one gig, Marr fired their first bass player, Dale Hibbert and drafted in his friend, despite misgivings about his continuing drug use. Johnny described playing the bass as Rourke's 'true calling.' The group became the defining Manchester indie act of the 1980s and a assively influential icon of British alternative rock, with hits including 'This Charming Man', 'What Difference Does It Make?', 'Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now', 'The Boy With The Thorn In His Side', 'Panic', 'Ask', 'Sheila Take A Bow' and 'Girlfriend In A Coma'.
Andy was, briefly, dismissed from The Smiths in 1986 shortly after the recording of The Queen Is Dead when he was busted for heroin possession. When session bassist Guy Pratt was drafted into rehearsals following Rourke's dismissal, he arrived assuming no one would notice Andy's absence ('let's face it,' he later wrote, 'how many people would be bothered?') But, he found himself marvelling at the 'sophistication' of what he was expected to learn. In Pratt's retelling, the general sigh of relief when it becomes apparent that Rourke's arrest would not stop him touring the US and he was allowed back into the band a few weeks later was 'almost palpable.' Even from Morrissey. It's easy to paint The Smiths as a two-man show: Morrissey and Marr wrote the songs; moreover, both were such lavishly talented and original artists that they cut figures almost impossible to overshadow. Indeed, that is a line of thought that Morrissey in particular has pushed with some vigour in recent decades, belittling The Smiths' rhythm section's contributions and behaving as though Andy and Mike Joyce were, in the words of a lawyer instructed to act for Joyce, 'as readily replaceable as the parts of a lawnmower.' In 1989, Rourke and Joyce took Morrissey and Marr to court, arguing they were owed an equal share of the band's earnings, having only been paid ten per cent each of the group's performance and recording royalties during the 1980s. Rourke settled for a lump sum of around eighty thousand knicker, but Joyce persisted with the legal action and was eventually awarded around a million quid in backdated royalties and twenty five per cent thereafter. Much to Morrissey's very public chagrin. Andy later filed for bankruptcy in 1999. But, Marr said: 'We maintained our friendship over the years, no matter where we were or what was happening. Andy reinvented what it is to be a bass guitar player. Watching him play those dazzling basslines was an absolute privilege and genuinely something to behold.' Later in his career, Rourke became a radio presenter on the radio station then known as XFM and would make occasional stage appearances with Marr's band.
After The Smiths split, Andy and Mike Joyce continued playing with Morrissey for a while. Rourke even temporarily replaced Marr as Morrissey's co-writer on a handful of songs, of which 'Girl Least Likely To' is probably the best known. And, there was another example of Andy's ability to insert funk behind Morrissey's voice on the 1990 single 'November Spawned A Monster'. That is, until acrimony over the distribution of money in their former band took over.
The Smiths simply wouldn't have been The Smiths without Andy Rourke, dear blog reader. In many ways, he was the all-to-frequently-unsung hero of The Smiths sound - something reflected over these last few days in hundreds of comments of You Tube and elsewhere concerning his legacy. Listen, for example, to his extraordinary six-minute funk workout on 'Barbarism Begins At Home'; a performance that sounds as though Bootsy Collins woke up one morning to find himself having joined T-Rex. His key contributions to songs as diverse as 'Still Ill', 'This Night Has Opened My Eyes', 'Rusholme Ruffians', 'The Queen Is Dead', 'Bigmouth Strikes Again', 'There Is A Light That Never Goes Out', 'That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore', 'I Know It's Over', 'Pretty Girls Make Graves', 'Stetch Out & Wait', 'Sweet & Tender Hooligan' and 'Death Of A Disco Dancer' is proof of how Andy Rourke managed to underpin Marr exotic, jangly guitar lines with solidity and dexterity. And definitely with sophistication. On 'Well I Wonder', 'Back To The Old House', 'How Soon Is Now?', 'Rubber Ring', 'Cemetry Gates' and 'The Headmaster Ritual', like 'Barbarism' he is, effectively, playing lead-bass. The rock upon which one of the greatest British guitar bands of the last fifty years was built has left the arena, dear blog reader. Light a candle in his memory and play The Queen Is Dead tonight in his honour. Fuckin' loud.
