Morning, blog fiends - it's yer actual bloggerisationism time yet again at From The North. Let there be joy and dancing throughout the land.
Since this blogger's beloved (and now, thankfully, sold) Magpies only went and actually bleedin'-well won some proper silverwear they've been on a bit of a - sometimes stumbling, but, nevertheless, broadly-speaking enjoyable - winning-streak in that there Premier League.
The most recent example of this winning-streak, on Sunday, was a thigh-slappingly hilarious four-one victory over The Scumchester United at The Cathedral of Dreams. Which was all the more impressive as it was achieved without the presence of Th' Toon's talismanic boss The Legend That Is Sir Eddie Howe who spent the weekend in hospital with, reportedly, a jolly nasty bout of viral pneumonia. Though, he was, according to his able deputy and beast fiend, Mad Dog Tindall, 'able to watch the game on TV' from the comfort of his bed in the RVI. And, presumably, he enjoyed it as much as the rest of us did.
Everyone at From The North, of course, sends The Gaffer their sincere best wishes for a speedy and full recovery.
Meanwhile, here is a visual representation of ane average Tyneside morning (before the recent sunny spell, admittedly). Which may go some way towards explaining why people still get pneumonia up in these parts.
World news: Mister President Rump's recent announcement of swingeing import tariffs in the United States of Amerikkka against goods from a vast array of countries took the leaders of many of those countries somewhat by surprise. Particularly, it would seem, the Heard & McDonald Islands.
Representatives for the Heard & McDonald Islands' government even went to meet Mister President Rump at The White House to try and get this, frankly, right-shite state-of-affairs clarified and sorted. But Mister President Rump and his Vice Squad, Mister VD Vance, are reported to have remained resolute in their tough stance. Tough on penguins, tough on the causes of penguins.
One wonders if the Heard & McDonald Islands' government have considered this particular option in retaliation? Mister President Rump should be advised that they're buggers when they get all riled-up, those penguins. Allegedly.
Now, dear blog reader, do you ever have one of these sort of moods? Particular after one has decided it's been 'kin years since one has watched the very excellent An American Werewolf In London (1981), go looking for the DVD which one was certain was somewhere in ones bedroom only to discover that the main reason why it's been 'kin years since one watched it is because one doesn't seem to actually have it on DVD. Or, if one ever did one, seemingly, one doesn't now. Just this blogger, then? That figures.
Thus, soon thereafter, the latest Stately Telly Topping Manor home entertainment stash included at least one not-entirely-unexpected item.
As usual, about every eighteen months-or-so when this blogger's current contract is about to expire, Keith Telly Topping rings up Sky to see if they can do him a good deal on The Stately Telly Topping Manor TV and/or Broadband (or, at least, to see if they can keep the monthly payments at around the same rate). So, he did that one day last week and spoke to - this blogger kids y'all not - a young lady called Nucti (this blogger even checked the spelling). 'Just like Nucti Gatwa' he asked? 'Who?' she queried. 'Yeah, that's exactly right,' this blogger replied. Before adding: 'You set 'em up, sweetheart, this blogger will stick 'em away!'
In the event, this blogger will be getting a slight upgrade on The Stately Telly Topping broadband speed, the new box for which should be installed in the first week of May along with a Sky Q box, which will be installed that same week and the monthly bill will be, he is assured, more-or-less exactly what he's paying now - two knicker-per-month less, in fact. See that 'jumping in the air, this had been a good day' image from a couple of From The North updates ago ...
Yes, that one. Incidentally, for those who may be wondering about this blogger's considered opinion on the opening episode of the latest series of From The North favourite Doctor Who, The Robot Revolution, this blogger is sure the following may come as a considerable surprise to dear blog fiends everywhere (and a severe disappointment to at least one of them). This blogger ... thought it was great.
Particularly Anita Dobson channelling Rory's dad.
And it is vitally important to remember, dear blog fiends, that absolutely no pet pussy cats were actually exterminated-by-death-ray during the making of the episode. Well, except one, obviously ...
Which, reportedly, went down like a right sack-of-shite with 'some people you've never heard of on the Interweb'. So, no change there, then.
Keith Telly Topping's Facebook fiend Tony Amis's posting of a typed-list of From The North favourite, the late and very great John Peel's 1981 Festive Fifty one morning last week on his own page was a tasty reminder of an annual Christmas ritual in The (then) Stately Telly Topping Manor household during the 1980s involving this blogger getting away from the rest of the Telly Topping family for an hour or five and 'audio cassettes'. If you're too young to know what those were, dearest blog fiends, you're advised to check Google.
In today's 'and I shall smite down with righteous vengeance and furious anger' tale from The Stately Telly Topping Manor, having ones Interweb access go offline for three hours for no obvious and adequately explained reason (as it did one day in early April) tops the agenda. Ooo, pure-dead vexed, so yer actual Keith Telly Topping was.
On a similar note, Monday of this very week saw a power cut hit the East End of Newcastle for about two hours for, again, no obvious or adequately explained reason. A power cut? What the actual funk? Is this 1973, or what?
Or, in other words, to retell a joke out of deep within the From The North archives ... Sam Tyler gets hit by a car in November 2023 and wakes up in 1973. 'What's it like where you come from?' asks Gene Hunt before bellowing 'you are surrounded by armed-bastards!' 'There's a Tory government who hate immigrants and constantly indulge in victim-blaming. Families are struggling with a cost of living crisis caused, at least in part, because inflation is outstripping wage increases. The Rolling Stones have got the number one LP and The Be-Atles the number one single. The top four in the Football League are Liverpool, Arsenal, Manchester City and Spurs. Coronation Street and Doctor Who are on telly and the Israelis and the Arabs are at war.' 'Pretty much the same around here' notes Gene. 'How much does a pint of beer cost?' 'Four pounds, fifty seven.'
Mind you, some jokes really don't age at all well. Stottingtot Hotshots in the top four of the Premier League? You're havin' a laugh, Keith Telly Topping.
And, speaking of 'the old ones are always the best'. This photographic image popped up in this blogger's 'memories' feed this week. The original punchline was 'if he does turn up, remember, everyone try to look busy.' This year's version; 'held up in traffic?'
Also making a, never unwelcome, return to the blogger's memory list; '... is still comin' like a ghost town'?
Anyway, Saturday just gone, for Us Supper at The Stately Telly Topping Manor let us have a massive round of totally-deserved applause for salt and chilli King Prawn with steamed rice and sauce. Ho yus me auld beauty, well-deserved and no mistake. And, lo, dearest blog fiends it was, indeed, gert lush in this blogger's sight, so it was.
This week's Sunday activity 'manual work? These are artists hands, matey ...'-type malarkey; giving The Stately Telly Topping Manor stairs a damned good, hard long-overdue washing. Positives: The long-overdue part, obviously. The gaff now looks a bit more presentable than it did. Which, in the unlikely event of anyone ever coming round here is, admittedly, a bonus. Negatives: To quote The Toy Dolls finest three-and-a-bit seconds 'Eyah! Me back's Knackin'!' Y'win some, y'lose some. And then, you have a nice long, comfortable, lie down having applied plenty of ibuprofen gel to the affected area. Ah. Bliss.
Now to the saddest parts of the latest From The North update, the recent announcements of the deaths of From The North favourites Jean Marsh ...
... and the Godlike genius that was Clem Burke.
The latter is particularly upsetting as, just a couple of days earlier, this blogger had posted a humorous caption to a Blondie photo on his Facebook page. 'So, it was a total lie when Debbie claimed she was in the phonebooth "across the hall" - not only was she and the boys, actually, in the street but she couldn't get into the phonebooth because it was already occupied by Clem and Frank and Jimmy.'
This blogger, sadly, never got to see either of Clem's great heroes - Keith Moon or Ringo - playing live so, along with perhaps Topper Headon and the also recently-departed Rick Buckler, Clem may well have been the finest rock and/or roll drummer this blogger even managed to witness in the flesh (a dozen times over the years - mostly with Blondie, although also once with his then-girlfriend Kathy Valentine's band in a tiny, but-packed, pub venue in Newcastle). The man was, to put it brutally, a soddin' force of nature. That performance of 'Dreaming' on Saturday Night Live in 1979 when Clem was inhabiting not only the spirit but also, seemingly, the t-shirt of Moonie was a sight to see, dear blog fiends.
Moving on, now, to the latest From The North Headline of The Fortnight nominees, let's have a huge round of applause for the Metro (so, not a real) newspaper, not only for the story but also the - quite magnificent - accompanying photo of a, seemingly, very angry 'businessman.' Sarah Hooper really got the maximum out of this piece of abject trivial nonsense. Well done, Sarah, jolly well done, there.
Next, the Liverpool Echo's entry into the always-competitive 'photo of Councillor Dave Antrobus next to a piece of scorched grass in Otterspool Park' run-off.
Lytham St Anne News, meanwhile, have the story that no one else will cover. The potential scientific breakthrough that would be 'seagull underpants.'
And if that isn't crying out for a right good-hard salute, then nothing is.
The Eastern Daily Press reports the tragic tale of an individual with enough money to buy a '£750,000 collection of supercars' worried about getting a bit of dirt on them from a nearby building site. And, of course, we should all feel pure-dead sorry for this exceedingly rich gentleman with 'considerably more money that yew', should we not? Don't answer all at once.
The Daily Record's report of 'chaos' at a Scots beach due to a van becoming submerged in the sea, of course, fails to take into account the massive boost to local businesses by people coming from miles around just to gawp, incredulously, at the sight and at the brain-dead numbskull who thought it a good idea to park there in the first place.
This blog has, on at least one previous occasion, featured a story from the always-unmissable Abergavenny Chronicle about their 'local lad and former semi-professional paranormal investigator Johnny Turnip.' Here is the latest update on his activities.
Of course, you wait months for a Johnny Turnip story to crop up in the Abergavenny Chronicle, dearest blog fiends and then two crop up in a matter of days. One could almost be led to believe there was a bit of crass self-promotion going on here. Almost.
The Henley Standard, the newspaper that missed out on Freddie Starr Ate My Hamster, make long-overdue amends with Red Kite Stole My Hummus. Better late than never, guys.
It's been a while, dear blog fiend, since From The North featured anything whatsoever from that bastion of always truthful and accurate reportage, the Daily Lies. So, this blogger is delighted to be able to bring you the following work of genius from the pen of one Tom McGhie. This year's Pulitzer Prize is, surely, there but for the asking, Tom. Start clearing a space on your mantlepiece to house it.
The Blackpool Gazette demonstrates an age-old truism; that if something seems 'too good to be true', it probably is. And that you get nowt for nowt in this world. And, precious-little for sixpence.
The Ipswich Star's effort isn't all that great a headline, per se, but the accompanying image is what makes it art.
And, the moral of this story from the BBC News website (which used to be run by adults) appears to be 'if you don't want to end up on Mister President Rump's hitlist and slung, by the Department of Homeland Security, into some high-security hell-hole in El Salvador, despite being "an average middle-aged man from Derbyshire" (allegedly), don't get a tattoo.' Sounds like sensible advice to this blogger whose always felt that having red-hot needles stuck into his skin in the name of advertising was, perhaps, a step too far.
'I've got "war" tattooed on that hand and "peace" tattooed on that hand and I've got The Brothers Karamazov tattooed down me spine. But you can't see that cos I've got me shirt on.' 'Doesn't it hurt?' 'Nah, it's polyester and cotton ...'
Meanwhile, two issues of the New Ross Standard feature a couple of very different stories which, nevertheless, managed to save the photo editor a bit of work.
CNN's effort has the added bonus of featuring a pretty boy.
Some, hopefully well-intended and well-meant, advice to Somerset Live. If you going to do a story with the word 'livid' in the title, featuring a photo of these, allegedly 'livid', people smiling and waving to camera probably isn't the greatest way of demonstrating their, alleged, 'lividness'.
Disappointing to report that the Manchester Evening News published this story which, in a roundabout way, involved Scumchester United and nevertheless resisted what was a, presumably overwhelming, urge to include the word 'circus' in the headline. Although, a merit-mark must be awarded for the sub-header: 'People were hoping to see Bruno Fernandes but got Bippo The Clown instead.' Though, to be honest, as anyone who watched The Scum's performance at St James' Park on Sunday will confirm, there are times when the resemblance is truly remarkable.
The taxi-driver involved in this jolly jape, incidentally, is currently being sought by the club. They'd like him to play in goal for them in Europe on Thursday night as both of their current goalkeepers are, ahem, 'indisposed due to embarrassment.'
The South London Guardian (no relation) reports on Domino's gluten-intolerance discrimination when giving out pizza discounts. The bastards. Also, two Topping Pizza? Whom, one demands to know, is the other one?
Next, the Andover Advertiser (no, me neither) asks a question to which the answer is ... 'no. It wasn't.'
A From The North Headline Of The Fortnight list of nominees simply wouldn't be complete without at least one representative from a Middle Class hippy Communist at the Gruniad Morning Star. So, thank you, thank you, thank you to Miranda Bryant in Stockholm for this. Miranda is, presumably, the paper's Scandinavian correspondent. Or, possibly, faeces correspondent. Or, perhaps both.
The Daily Mirra, of course, used to be a much more reliable source of news when they used to hack people's phones and have done with it. Then they got caught so stopped doing that. But, bless 'em, they don't give up.
Wales Online has a really good try at coming up with the single most bollocks non-story of the decade. 'Mummy, there's a man in my bedroom.' 'Oh, that's all right, sweetheart, it's only former Prime Minister David Lloyd George.'
But the undoubted winner of the latest title is from, again, BBC News (which used to be run by adults). Perhaps now we can all appreciate exactly why Mister President Rump and his administration have so got it in for them bastard penguins. They're a bloody menace to air traffic, for one thing.
The British public have been asked to name a pair of beavers (steady) at a nature reserve in Shropshire. Yes, because asking the British public to name anything is always a good idea, isn't it? This is going to end up in another Boaty McBoatface-type fiasco, this blogger can just tell.
Oh mate, you only had one job.
Apparently, you have to register your lavatory in Latvia. Of course, if you don't there is more than a decent chance that no one will know. The police, after all, will have nothing to go on. Oh, suit yourselves ...
And finally, dear blog fiends ... so many questions. The foremost of which is '... are you on drugs by an chance?'
A necessary addendum (posted Thursday).
Firstly, an acknowledgement of this blogger's beloved (and now, thankfully, sold) Magpies' sixth consecutive victory in all competitions following a five-nil, pants-down, spanking of yer actual Crystal Palace raising United to third in the Premier League. Which was nice.
Though the Mister Sheen-like gleaming shine of this happenstance was somewhat tarnished by some abject, clueless, dim-witted clot at the BBC News website (which used to be run by adults) claiming Th' Bonny Toon were, as a consequence, 'on course to at least match their best-ever Premier League finish of third from 2002-03.' So, them finishing runners-up twice (in 1996 and 1997) never happened, then? Top fact-checking, there, Beeb. And, top bit of post hoc ergo propter hoc-style editing when your numbskull glakery was pointed out to you.
Up till that point, to be fair, it had been one of those sort of days.
Albeit, one briefly enlived by yet another new - and jolly welcome - arrival in The Stately Telly Topping Manor home entertainment collection.
Right, dear blog fiends. That's the additions over-and-done-with. As you were.
