It’s a fine day, people open windows, they leave the houses for just a short while.
Today’s papers are reporting that Fabio Capello plans to select John Terrence in his next England squad, for the games against Spain (how apt) and Sweden. Terrence, of course, “considers himself in the right frame of mind to lead out his country”, the utter stalwart (did he ever mention that he’s captain, skipper, leader and figurehead?) But really, what on earth is going on? Apparently the FA is anxious to abide by the maxim innocent until proven guilty – which would be fine, were he not pictured on camera using the words “black” and “cunt” juxtaposed alongside one another, in conversation with another man. Another man who happens to be Anton Ferdinand, who happens to be the brother of Rio Ferdinand, who happened to be dropped by England pending an investigation into a missed drugs test. Anyway, in the interests of balance, here’s what old Terrence said on the subject: “I’m disappointed that people have leapt to the wrong conclusions about the context of what I was seen to be saying to Anton Ferdinand. I thought Anton was accusing me of using a racist slur against him. I responded aggressively, saying that I never used that term. I would never say such a thing, and I’m saddened that people would think so. I have known Anton for a long time and spoke to him about it after the game and there was no problem between us. I congratulated him on their win. He has not accused me of any wrongful remark.” Hasn’t he John…hasn’t he?
What a waste
Finally, countless Manchester United fans have their wish. Wayne Rooney has spent the last two games, essentially, as an attacking midfielder. It worked well enough. He didn’t lose his temper, he picked out some great passes, and he provided an energy to the midfield that has been missing since Darren Fletcher started whistling ‘The Streets of Philadelphia.’ It’s been a qualified success. The thing is, of course, now Manchester United have addressed the midfield problem, they really seem to be lacking a kind of Wayne Rooney figure up front. I reckon he could do a job as a striker, Wayne.
When you go to watch a play that challenges issues about race and feelings, and the playwright, no doubt with good intentions, chooses to stock the play with the most unbelievably two dimensional characters – the Christian Jamaican nurse, the mousy, hardworking young Muslim student, and the boorish middle aged white man, you’ve got problems. Passing the time mentally pronouncing each letter in the programme, it doesn’t improve your appreciation of diversity, it makes you want to murder the loosely-drawn stereotype on stage, like Patrick Bateman going after shoddy plotting instead of whores.
Taking an interest
Who watches A League Of Their Own? Come on, own up – there were 0.99 million of you last week. We promise, we don’t have an IP tracking system that will end with someone coming round your house and brutally tickling you to death. With a machete.
So Harry Redknapp’s had a corrective heart procedure. I hope it’s worked, and that he feels more sympathetic towards social housing now.
There’s misplaced hope for us all: Zooey Deschanel, the world’s most bewilderingly beautiful woman, with the greatest eyes in history of retinas, is getting divorced from her husband, Ben Gibbard of Death Cab For Cutie*. You’re thinking it right now, aren’t you? You’re imagining a serindipitous meeting; you carpe dieming with a couple of delicious bons mots and a roguish twinkle you didn’t even know you had; her looking beyond your not inconsiderable man gut to see the beauty inside; you and Zooey living an idyllic life of kooky happiness ever after. You utter, desperate fool.
(Yes, one of us did exactly the same when we heard the news.)
* A man who once sang the lyric, “I’ll sit and wonder/Of every love that could’ve been/If I’d only thought of something charming to say.” Given that he was married to Zooey Deschanel for two years, imagine how good his life would have been if he had thought of something charming to say.
Gin, Campari, Lemon Juice, homemade Orange Bitters & English Marmalade. The Marmalade Cocktail.