Slaves to the Government!

If you live in the UK, today is your lucky day! That is because from today we are no longer slaves to the government; well for at least the remainder of 2011. The reason for this is that today, the 30^th of May, is 'Tax Freedom Day'.

According to the Adam Smith Institute, (www.adamsmith.org/blog), today is the first day of the calendar year when the money we earn is ours to keep and does not go directly into government coffers. This means we have been working for five months solid (or 149 days), and we have not benefited from a single penny. However, from today everything we earn is ours to keep; well until the 1^st January 2012 that is.

Tax Freedom Day has come about three days later than last year, so we could well be into June before we reach Tax Freedom Day next year. No wonder the government is trying to encourage a feel good factor next year by having an extra public holiday to celebrate the Queens Diamond Jubilee. Personally I'd prefer a few extra quid in my pocket!

Magical Messi's Wembley Mementos

Barcelona stole the show and the goals (literally) in the 2011 UEFA Champions League final at Wembley last night. English champions Manchester United were given a lesson in footballing mastery in what has been described as one of the best performances ever seen. Barcelona eased to a 3 - 1 victory confirming them as easily the best football team in Europe, if not the world. The mercurial Messi dictated the pace of the game throughout as he bedevilled the 'Reds' with an unrivalled masterclass.

However, having scored only three goals during the game, Barcelona clearly thought they should have had more. After the final whistle they decided to get the scissors out and promptly hacked the nets from the Wembley goal posts, leaving London not only with the Champions League trophy, but other less conventional mementos. I can only assume their charitable tendencies, including shirt sponsorship of UNICEF, will now mean some needy football team will be the main benefactor of some new netting.

Some years ago I remember watching football hooligans invading the Wembley field of play, digging up the pitch, and ripping down the goal posts. Now it appears top class footballers are doing the same with not so much as a raised eyebrow. Clearly this isn't hooliganism, criminal damage or even theft; it must simply be legitimate 'high spirits' by a magical team.

When will FIFA play fair?

Surprise, Surprise! Yet another allegation of corruption involving key FIFA officials tarnishes the beautiful game. Allegations of corruption and impropriety have been rife in recent years and the decision by the BBC to screen a TV programme about such allegations just days before the decision to award the 2018 and 2022 FIFA World Cups, is widely believed to have compromised the strong bid from England.

FIFA (Federation Internationale de Football Association) is the international governing association of arguably the most popular sport in the world, football (or soccer for any US readers). And yet although it is one of the largest and richest sporting organisations in the world, it appears to be the least accountable and an absolute law unto itself.

To achieve its mission to, 'Develop the game, touch the world, and build a better future', FIFA claims to have a responsibility to reach out and touch the world using football as a symbol of hope and integration.

The irony here is that FIFA continually promotes the mantra of 'Fair Play', which it defines extensively as, 'Winning is without value if victory has been achieved unfairly and dishonestly.....and.....Playing fair earns you respect, while cheaters are detested'. It is about time, those who run FIFA took note of its own words and played 'FAIR'. Unfortunately, it is unlikely this will happen any time soon as they all appear too busy investigating each others corruption and impropriety.

Judgement Day – Armageddon slow burn or wedding anniversary conspiracy?

What a relief! Judgement day came and went without too much obvious bother, apart from more sporting revelations about the sexual exploits of an overpaid premiership footballer and his dodgy super-injunction.

For those of you unaware, Saturday 21^st May 2011 was supposed to be 'Judgement Day' when Jesus returned to take charge of us all, by reaping carnage and saving all true followers; the whole thing culminating with God annihilating the world on 21^st October 2011 (five days before my 25^th wedding anniversary).

Well, I decided to stay in bed all day Saturday, just in case the worst happened. As it turned out, things were generally uneventful, so either Jesus has decided a slow burn transition to Armageddon, or is planning a stealth approach by not revealing his hand too soon. Unlike some followers, I'm glad I didn't empty my bank account and give away all of my possessions in preparation for the big bang.

That said, he may have removed all of his true followers without our knowledge, and has decided to leave the dirty work to God in October. Therefore we are not yet out of the woods. I have checked my diary, and note that the 21^st October is on a Friday (a working day). Therefore if I plan on repeating my 'stay in bed' strategy for part two of the latest prediction that 'the end is nigh', I will have to ask my boss for the day off.

Judgement Day and the end of the world is however the least of my worries – if anyone messes with my wedding anniversary, they will have the missus to deal with. Armageddon will seem like a walk in the park!

Grumpier than the Grumpiest Jubilee Grumpy!!

I must have a screw loose! As a daily commuter using the Jubilee Line on the London Underground I have heard just about every excuse possible for late and delayed trains. My 30 minute commute twice a day on the Jubilee line is what makes me grumpier than the grumpiest grumpy.

However, this week yet more delays on the Jubilee line were attributed to a loose screw which had fallen from a platform edge door. The screw lodged in the mechanism of the door preventing it from closing. This in turn prevented the train from departing, and other trains continuing their journeys along the Jubilee.

The Jubilee line is one of the busiest on the London Underground network and services more than 600,000 passengers a day. Worryingly it is one of the principal routes for next years Olympics at London 2012.

When the trains are moving, my commute consists of eight stops, getting intimate with various people during the journey. It is not for the faint hearted and getting into a carriage is a matter of gently pushing your way on until you know your in; whilst at the same time being pushed from behind from those also attempting to join the hot stuffy cattle truck (sorry the carriage). We then endure the sweet fragrance of hairspray, gel, dandruff, sweat, and just about any other human aroma you can think of. The intertwining of arms and legs and the exposure of sweaty armpits ensure an intimacy that is much more than you would ever enjoy with your closest family or friends. Even when you do find an inch or two of personal space, the sudden jolt and movement of the tube ensures another intimate encounter with a fellow passenger or two; and the best bit, you pay for the experience.

Enduring such experiences twice a day five days a week are a clear sign that just like the Jubilee line I to have a loose screw!

Your Call Mate!

A great video featuring a grumpy Captain.

http://youtu.be/EBwNwoDVT8E

Paddington to Waterloo in 6 hours!!

Working in London I have a regular commute home at weekends and sometimes further for a relaxing weekend away. Recently I travelled the 20 minute journey on the London Underground to London Paddington station and then commenced a three hour journey to Devon, in the south west of England, for such a break. My journey involved a single connection at Exeter station, and I knew I had 7 minutes to change platforms negotiating a walkway via two sets of stairs

As my journey commenced I settled back to unwind from a hectic week in the office, thinking about the relaxing weekend away from the drudgery of working life. I plugged in my ipod and closed my eyes. During what was a pretty uneventful journey (unusually), we lost a bit of time, so as we approached Exeter nearly three hours after leaving London, I knew my connection time was now down to 2 minutes; still possible but no longer a casual stroll.

As the train pulled into the station I knew I had to get from one platform to another in two minutes. I edged my way to the train door ready for my sprint (if only rushing for trains was an Olympics sport, I wouldn't have to worry about getting tickets for London 2012; I'd be competing).

The train stopped and I was out and running, dodging the inconvenience of people exiting from other carriages and hurdling random items of luggage on the platform. I made the first set of stairs, barging people out the way, as politely as I could; across the bridge weaving in amongst other commuters; then down the second set of stairs, muttering my apologies as I shouldered past human obstacles. I saw my train. I'd made it to the platform and my connection was waiting obligingly. In my final act of athleticism I jumped the gap and onto the waiting carriage, just as the doors closed behind me and the train moved off. I took a deep breath and with an overwhelming sense of relief I watched Exeter disappear as I commenced the final 20 minutes of my journey.

I decided to rest from my exertions and walked down the carriage looking for a seat. As I did, I noticed the clean colourful seats of the train. The whole look and feel was modern as the train glided along the track. This was not the shabby, grey unappealing bone-shaker I was expecting. Something was seriously wrong!

All of a sudden, panic, as my senses started to compute my feeling of confusion. Then my worst fear became reality, as the announcer confirmed, “This is the Exeter to London Waterloo service; our journey time will be approximately three hours.” I was on my way back to London and my helplessness was compounded as I pushed the door open button which on a moving train was not working for obvious reasons. Horror of horrors, I was on my way back to work and there was nothing I could do about it.  I was about to start the second part of a 6 hour journey from Paddington to Waterloo, a journey which usually only takes 15 minutes.

Has the magic of the FA Cup disappeared?

Wembley Stadium was a swathe of red and light blue on Saturday as supporters of Stoke City and Manchester City watched their footballing idols do battle in the oldest and most prestigious domestic cup competition in the world – the English FA Cup. The match was beamed to millions around the globe who witnessed a Man City victory by a single goal sending their supporters into frenzied raptures of their adopted ballad 'Blue Moon'.

However, apart from the teams involved on the day, for me the magic of the FA Cup has disappeared.

Now, I am not old enough to remember the first FA Cup final held during the 1871-72 season, won again by a single goal by 'Wanderers'. Nor can I remember the first FA Cup final held at Wembley Stadium in 1923, attended by 200,000 people, and won by Bolton Wanderers. But I do remember the cup final of the 1970-71 season between Arsenal and Liverpool. In fact I remember most of the finals up until the mid 90's – but then the memory goes a bit blank. Most people say you never remember the losers – well post the mid 90's I'm struggling to even recall any of the winners.

The '71 final is my first memory of this magical cup competition and what a memory it was. A large group of us with eager anticipation crowded into the small room of the house which had the only colour TV in our street. After the game, (which Arsenal won 2-1), we piled into the street and using jumpers as goal posts, re-enacted the final, albeit the score was somewhat different.

My overriding memories of the FA Cup in the 70's and 80's was that it was a full day event, and something to look forward to and get excited about. It was the only day of the year I would get away with sitting in front of the television glued to every programme which had a footballing theme – as a 10 year-old, life didn't get any better than that; wall to wall football. In the morning the usual kids TV programmes all had footballing themes. This was followed by the lunacy of 'It's a Knock-out' featuring supporters from the two finalists, and then the build up began. There were full run downs of how the teams got to the final, profiles of the players and live TV coverage of the team coaches leaving their hotels and travelling to Wembley. And a choice – the game was always shown live on both the BBC and ITV; of course David Coleman on the BBC got my vote every time.

This year, as a grumpy forty-something, although a session of 'It's a Knock-out' hosted by the Man City celebrity supporter, Stuart Hall, would have caused a stir, as well as missiles being thrown at the TV, the pitiful two hour build up using safe commentators that no ones ever heard of, has seriously devalued the magic that was the FA Cup. Even a bit of swearing by the overpaid players during post match interviews and the Man City fans doing 'The Poznan', could not re-kindle even a spark of the old cup magic.

Wembley itself has contributed to the cup finals demise. During the magical years, the teams would be led out together by the managers and walk half the length of the pitch from the old tunnel to the area in front of the Royal Box before being presented to a Royal VIP. The TV coverage would capture the frenzy of both sets of supporters hunting out the best and most humorous home made flags and banners.

No such carnival atmosphere nowadays. The teams arrive on the pitch and are presented to the VIP; the banners being waived all look the same having been purchased from vendors outside the stadium, the empty corporate seats and the official singer cannot coordinate the National Anthem with the 80,000 supporters. Top all this with the commentators drivel and you have an uninspiring non-magical cup final day – well for the neutral anyway.

Gone also are the days of watching the game in a room crammed full of youngsters eager to see their idols playing the beautiful game – this year it was just me and my son. Then the final nail in the coffin of the most prestigious cup final in the world. Just before half time, my son left the room, not to put the kettle on or to prepare a half time bite to eat – no......wait for it.....he decided to go and tidy his bedroom. Tidy his bedroom!! When I was his age (13), tidying my bedroom was a punishment! Surely the FA Cup hasn't become something worse than a punishment. Does he not know the FA Cup itself was recently nominated as an 'icon of England', a project designed to identify what makes England what it is – something to be proud of!

I suppose deciding to tidy his bedroom in favour of watching the best domestic cup competition in the world may have been a blessing in disguise – at least he didn't want to go into our street to re-enact the game – such exertions would undoubtedly have finished me off.

The magic of the FA Cup has not just faded, it has completely disappeared – still I suppose that's what magic does eventually – it makes things disappear!

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A newbie blogger

This is my first attempt at blogging.  The theme will be the weekly trials and tribulations of a forty something grumpy old man.