Wednesday, October 01, 2008


The football was mildly diverting last evening. Gloucester, a team I continue to favour, vanquished against an energetic Newcastle outfit. Amid much huffing and puffing and aimless kicking and other uninspiring adequacy, the city club contrived to play some sparkling rugby. Five super tries lit up the old stadium. The enigmatic yet swift Balshaw bagged a hat-trick of tries while the young prince, Simpson-Daniel, nabbed a merry brace of the blighters. The prince’s every touch was sublime, conjuring space and time from who knows where, not once but again and again. I have two observations to make about Gloucester’s tries. All came from simple moves along the back line and not one forward was involved in the handling of the ball and I would also assert that the sluggish Vainikolo would not have possessed the skill, speed or wherewithal to have scored any of them. Thank goodness for our utilisation of guile and wit over bulk and the bludgeon.

I’m looking forward to watching a pair of music documentaries that lie waiting for me at home. Dig! features the rivalry between the Dandy Warhols and the Brian Jonestown Massacre and, apparently, is a tremendous feature. I’ve also got Sex Pistols film, The Filth and the Fury to enjoy. My cup doth overflow.

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