There’s an old saying in the Scottish highlands. It goes:
Och bonny lad,
nae blog tae be blogged
when there’s nae thing tae blog aboot
It might be not be that old, in fairness. And it might not actually be a saying at all. In fact it might all be a figment of my imagination. Just like entire right hand side of Alex Song’s body.
As you’ll have gathered there’s not a great deal going on. Yesterday’s Mirror linked us with Peter Varney, an exciting young centre-half who can head the ball. Actually, he’s Charlton’s ex-chief executive and he’s apparently on our list for the vacant position at the Arsenal. That’s the vacant chief exec position and not the centre-half one.
It seems to have been a long process in finding somebody. There was the Celtic guy who turned it down, a Vodafone bloke, whatsherface from Birmingham and weatherman Michael Fish. Yet still we’re no closer to making the announcement.
I bet we’ll announce it today, just to make me look like a right chump. Is the fact that Aaron Ramsey is going to make his full Wales debut in November interesting to anyone? Maybe it’ll be interesting in November.
They should have the second round of internationals on a Tuesday, you know. That’d give them more time to get back to their clubs for treatment to their injuries. On the plus side our winter league starts tonight. First match of the astro season kicks off at 9pm. I swear, Division 10 won’t know what’s hit them. I am looking forward to it although I fear my pre-season preparations haven’t been quite as good as they might have been.
You know the way in beer all the sugar turns to alcohol to give it that delicious booze taste? Well, I’m hoping all the alcohol turns into little energy cubes or something. If that happens then we’re all set, not a worry in the world. Otherwise … well …. hmmmm ….
Right, there really is only so far I can stretch this nothing. I shall be off to await today’s budget in Ireland in which the government will screw us for as much money as they can. Time to fill up the petrol tank, buy up booze at pre-budget prices, and sharpen my sticking stick for the next time a politician calls to my door. What a pack of cunts.
Till tomorrow.
