Hughton out. Jol in?

There’s an interesting situation potentially developing at Newcastle United. Chris Hughton has bizarrely paid the price for beating Arsenal at the Emirates, thrashing Villa at St James’ Park and humiliating local rivals Sunderland 5-1, by losing his job today. There have been rumblings of discontent from upstairs for a while at St James’ – the move appears premeditated and, given Newcastle sit 11^th in the table, overly harsh. What can Hughton’s mandate have been at the start of the season? UEFA Cup spot? Surely not. Top ten? Perhaps, but it would have been ambitious and he was hardly failing, with half the season still to play.

Hughton did a fantastic job to secure promotion at the first time of asking. And at times this season, Newcastle have looked terrific. Pace on the flanks, creativity and bite in midfield and one of the most promising and talented forwards in the country in Andy Carroll. Granted they have been inconsistent, but who hasn’t this year? If Hughton was given time to make St James’ the fortress it has been in the past, I’d have fancied them to re-establish themselves as one of the Premiership’s big clubs. Shame on Mike Ashley, yet again. Sol Campbell, loathe him though I do, took the unusual step of criticising the owner’s decision and he is quite right.

Of course, it could turn out to be a masterstroke and I certainly wouldn’t bet against the bookies new favourite, Martin Jol, getting the job. As a Spurs fan, I still have a massive soft spot for Jol. He had a few shortcomings as a manger – a certain over cautiousness and tactical naivety at times – but he is a great man and laid the foundations for Spurs’ rise to the Champions League. It is well known that he is desperate to come back to the Premiership and, after Fulham’s failed attempt to install him as manager, his departure from Ajax today must be more than a coincidence.

If Jol were to take charge at Newcastle, I would certainly look out for their results. After three years at University there, I already have a certain interest in the club. What will be interesting though is Hughton’s next move. For 3 years, he was Jol’s assistant at Spurs and it was known they got on extremely well. What odds for a sensational return to St James’ as assistant manager? Unlikely, but Jol is certain to ask Hughton for advice and if he feels he has been treated badly, it may put the Dutchman off.

As a Spurs’ legend, Hughton would be welcomed back to White Hart Lane in a coaching capacity I’m sure but he should look to continue as a manager.  Having proven himself at Toon, I doubt there will be a shortage of takers. Ashley may live to regret another big decision.

Political parties and PMQs

Which party to support?

I am not a political being in the sense that I support one political party over the other. I find the notion that one party deserves to rule and another to be in opposition hard to fathom. In the past when the parties were more divided by class and policy, or in a country like Italy where the parties remain cleaved to the left or right, then perhaps I could understand it. But in modern Britain, the three leading parties have drifted into the centre. They seem to differ now on individual policies and not philosophy. The Tory label of ‘Toffs’, whose policies were “thought up on the playing fields of Eton”, and the suggestion that Labour are the puppets of the Trade Unions persist, are fuelled from across the benches but lack conviction.

When it comes to my political support, I therefore choose personality and policy, rather than parties. Personality is a big part of politics and always will be. I recently went to see Boris Johnson at the Mayor’s Assembly (a kind of PMQs for the London Mayor) and he was fantastic. He was witty, funny, bumbling and quoted Shakespeare and Tacitus – I left having not been bored once, and not particularly fussed about his policies. The sign of a good politician?

On occasion, I like certain politicians and therefore vaguely support them. I didn’t like Tony Blair. I always felt like he was being insincere – as Adrian Mole once wrote: “I couldn’t help thinking those endless pauses had been timed by Alastair Campbell with a stopwatch”. I didn’t really like Gordon Brown either. To begin with I thought he was a very intelligent and probably quite kind man. Then he mismanaged the economic crisis and people starting saying he was a bully, so I went off him.

But that’s not to say that I disliked the Labour party or every one of their policies since 1997 . There are many that have undoubtedly been beneficial. Equally, at the moment I like David Cameron but am no fan of Nick Clegg, who seems to be a kind of pale imitation of the PM who has sold his soul for electoral reform. That’s not to say I love the Tories and hate the Liberal Democrats. George Osborne – bit of a goon. Paddy Ashdown – perhaps my favourite politician.

At times, like now, I will support the present government and advocate more time for their policies. Equally, at other times I think that a fresh government with new ideas is needed. Blindly following a political party through thick and thin seems odd.

PMQs

I have found that watching Prime Minister’s Questions is a good way of getting to know the PM and the leader of the opposition and forming some non-partisan opinions, based on personality and policy. Of course, parties play a big part in the debate and there’s always a cracking atmosphere from the backbenches. But normally the Commons reaches a crescendo with the a frenetic and entertaining debate across the podium.

The trouble is, Labour leader Ed Miliband seems entirely lacking in concrete policy and the whole half-hour debate is becoming very repetitive. I want to like Miliband – he has a cartoon character likeability about him. But instead of being a cool, assertive character like Woody or Wallace, he currently seems to be floundering like Nemo’s dad or consistently losing his acorn like Scrat.

The following is a template for Cameron vs. Miliband PMQs:

*The coalition has announced some cuts or other in the past week…

Cameron: “These cuts are necessary.”

Miliband: “You’re gambling with people’s futures. It’s reckless.”

Cameron: “What’s your alternative suggestion then?”

Miliband: “I may not have been here long, Mr. Speaker, but I thought I was suppose to ask the questions.”

Cameron: “These cuts are necessary.”

Miliband: [pointing] “He’s got to do better than that.”

Cameron: “You haven’t got a plan so you can’t say anything. Your party messed up economy.”

And so on. Last week Cameron successfully scorned Miliband for an interview he did in The Guardian in which he stated Labour’s policy ‘started with a blank sheet of paper’. “That’s no good to anyone!”, said the PM. He mentioned the blank sheet thrice last week and once again today. It has proved great ammunition.

Often, these jibes are designed to lighten the mood by mildly embarrassing or poking fun at the person opposite. But with Miliband, they cut deeper. The PM’s words ring true. Last week, Cameron accused him of being the “nobody man” of British politics. This week, he said “he’s been in the job three months and people are wondering when he’s going to start”. These quotes will worry Labour backbenchers, because Miliband genuinely seems to lack a decent comeback. He hasn’t got an alternative plan to reduce the deficit and get Britain out of trouble. And so far, the coalition’s efforts seem to be working.

Miliband needs to attack to coalition, using his own ideas as a base. He needs to formulate some concrete policies, some alternatives to the cuts and rises he is criticising. He currently dithering, characterised by his indecisiveness over whether to attend a protest, another point picked up on by Cameron today.

I was all for giving the coalition time and the same should apply to Miliband. But he needs to pick up speed fast. A coalition should be an easier government to attack than an a party united. No doubt the Liberal Democrat wavering on tuition fees will give him some ammunition in the coming days and next week. Indeed, I would like to stress that the coalition has not been perfect and the university bill could turn into a major embarrassment if the Liberals abstain. But thus far, Miliband isn’t convincing and it’s all getting a bit repetitive.

Paying the penalty

Surely any professional footballer, paid many tens of thousands of pounds a week, should be able to score unchallenged from 12 yards? Apparently not.

Against Liverpool, Spurs once again showed that despite their tremendous form and obvious qualities, they have one collective and rather worrying flaw….an inability to score penalties.

Manager Harry Redknapp told talksport after the game that he was desperate to find a penalty taker. His tone was jovial but you can bet it wouldn’t have been if Jermain Defoe’s miss had cost Spurs. As it was, after a goal at each end by Martin Skrtel, the match looked to be heading for a draw, only for Aaron Lennon to pop up with an injury time winner for the home side.

Spurs deserve an immense amount of credit. Once again they came from behind in the Premier League. They have amassed an impressive 16 points from losing positions already this season. And once again, it was against a member of the “big four” – although how long Liverpool can cling to this tag remains to be seen.

Any Spurs fan looking to criticise their team after a monumental week that has also seen them come from 2-0 down to beat Arsenal at the Emirates and qualify for the knockout stages of the Champions League with a game to spare, could be labelled harsh. But their conversion rate from the penalty spot leaves a lot to be desired.

After today’s game, Spurs’ penalties this season look like this:

Crouch vs Young Boys – Scored
Van Der Vaart vs Wolves – Scored
Van Der Vaart vs FC Twente – Saved
Pavlyuchenko vs FC Twente – Scored
Pavlyuchenko vs FC Twente – Scored
Pavlyuchenko vs Blackburn – Missed
Van Der Vaart vs Arsenal – Scored
Bale vs Werden Bremen – Saved
Defoe vs Liverpool – Missed

Only five scored out of 9, a meagre conversion rate of 56%. So far, none of the misses have cost Spurs, but if this pattern continues one will.

The rotation of takers suggests that Redknapp is searching for a genuine penalty specialist, but is yet to find one. Defoe, to his credit, is always keen to step up but has now missed 4 of his last 5 in the Premier League. He should be quietly told to never volunteer again. When Gareth Bale missed against Werder Bremen, Redknapp joked that at least he had found something the young Welshman couldn’t do. Privately, it must have annoyed him.

In truth, this isn’t an issue that will keep fans and management awake at night, but it is a pattern that must stop. If Spurs want to adopt the winning mentality required of “title challengers”, a tag Redknapp and many of his playing staff have now attached to the club, they must learn to be ruthless from 12 yards. Van der Vaart seems the best bet, but he is out injured for over a month. If Spurs get some penalties in his absence, they must hope they can find someone who can keep their nerve.

To protest or not to protest

I got back to granny’s early this morning to learn that the second student protest in as many weeks was taking place in central London. I genuinely considered joining it; I had a day off, there was no excuse not to. But it was cold and I had a bit of work to do and I’m bloody enjoying reading Birdsong for the second time, and so I convinced myself that it would be “more real” on the TV in any case. When it was too late, and BBC News 24 were streaming the live pictures, I regretted my laziness.

I was interested in going to the protests, not because I agree with the other students, but to see what it was like first hand. I don’t disagree with them either. Sadly, I am indifferent to the whole issue which is perhaps the genuine reason for my apathy. I am a student so perhaps I should stand shoulder to shoulder with others and protest for the sake of future generations.

But the rise in tuition fees won’t affect me – I will leave university at the end of this academic year. Even if I was four years younger and just about to start university, I would be safe in the knowledge that my parents would cough up for tuition fees. “That’s unfair you stinking RA”, I hear you cry. Absolutely right, it is unfair. But I make no apologies for it – I don’t think a single protestor would insist on paying their parents back the £9, 000 if they offered to cover it.

I will briefly add my voice to those who have already denounced the violence. It is counter-productive and does nothing except lose the protestors sympathy and support. I suspect that only a small number are involved in these acts and that the media have disproportionately focussed on the violence. I also suspect that most of the violence is not caused by genuinely aggrieved students but by yobs and anarchists, who enjoy a fight and a spot of vandalism.

I understand the position of the vast majority of the protestors though. Many amongst them will face an increase in repayments after university and no doubt some amongst them will not be able to afford to go. And I understand the anger aimed at the coalition, particularly the Liberal Democrats. Nick Clegg and co. have gone back on an election promise and, regardless of whether they now have more information or have seen the light, that is bad form.

I do wonder though if the majority of the student protestors have actually examined the new proposals to work out if it will actually affect them. If Vince Cable’s Bill is passed then some of the poorest students won’t pay anything towards tuition fees at all. How many of today’s protestors would qualify?

I’m not the radical or political type but every now and then I’d quite like to be. I imagine myself in designer brogues and skinny jeans, rejecting the establishment and challenging the government. Part of me thinks that’s what students are supposed to be like (the brogues and skinny jeans are optional). I almost wish I was going through a “phase” and reading the Communist Manifesto for pleasure.

Alas, the rise in tuition fees just isn’t an issue I feel strongly enough about. I reiterate that I have no problem with those who want to peacefully protest – good luck. But I also see the government position. Cuts have to be made, the budget has to be reduced some how.

So for now, with a tinge of regret, I will continue to leave the protest to the committed edgy people. But if an issue comes up that I’m really passionate about, perhaps I will get the chance to join in a protest before long.

Misery for England as France ruin Carroll’s party

Dan Kilpatrick

At Wembley

For eighty-five minutes you had to feel sorry for the Troops. Clearly visible in their khaki across a soaking Wembley, they watched with eighty thousand others as England served up another damp squib of a performance. Before the match two young soldiers revealed it had taken them 24 hours to hitch hike to Wembley from their post in Northern Ireland. You would have forgiven them for wishing they’d spent leave at home or in the pub.

A late flurry and another international goal for Peter Crouch papered over the cracks and gave the score-line an air of respectability at 2-1. But in reality England were outplayed for long periods by a French side that can claim to be equally inexperienced.

There was an air of optimism around Wembley before the kick-off. Andy Carroll passed a late fitness test and when the Newcastle United forward embarked on an early dribble, excitement rippled through the terraces. It was clear who the fans had come to see. Too often after that, England resorted to the long ball. Tottenham Hotspur fans will testify how frustrating it is to watch a good passing team go long when there’s a “big man” up front. Pressed by an industrious French midfield, England fell back on this tactic time and again.

It took barely five minutes to realise that, despite unfamiliar names and a dire World Cup, France still ooze quality. Two of the more familiar faces, Nasri and Malouda, were fantastic. Direct and tricky, they threatened every time they got on the ball. England didn’t resist for long. After 15 minutes, Malouda and Benzema exchanged passes and the Real Madrid striker smashed home inside Foster’s near post.

England were afforded no time to settle as France’s front three continued to dazzle.  The thought of journeyman Championship striker Jay Bothroyd in reserve began to seem laughable. There were glimpses: Carroll headed down for Gerrard to blaze over on 28 minutes, before almost releasing Walcott after a clever step-over. Milner then did well to cross dangerously from the by-line.

France, for all their possession and inventive attacking flair, looked sloppy at the back but they comfortably controlled the first half. Jeers rang through Wembley as England twice went back to Foster in quick succession and the half ended on a tragic-comic note as a Mexican wave was interrupted by the whistle and a chorus of boos.

Capello wrung the changes, introducing Adam Johnson, Ashley Young and Micah Richards at half time. Richards, at right back, immediately did what Jagielka had failed to do for 45 minutes and got in behind the French backline. Johnson looked as lively as ever. Wembley seemed to wonder why they hadn’t started.

England retained their shape but, as is fashionable, left-footed Johnson was deployed on the right with right-footed Young on the opposite flank. It didn’t suit Carroll, who had to wait until the sixty-ninth minute for a headed chance at goal. He must have longed for a Gareth Bale or a David Beckham for supply.

As England probed bluntly, France broke wonderfully and doubled their advantage on fifty-four minutes. The adventurous Sagna got behind club mate Gibbs and crossed for Valbuena to sweep home after Nasri’s air shot. French voices throughout the stadium made themselves heard.

England appeared to rally late on but in truth France had tired. Their defensive sloppiness almost proved costly as a Johnson free kick ran all the way through to Gerrard who headed just over. The brilliant Benzema, who has started just once for Real this season, departed exhausted after 66 minutes along with fellow scorer Valbuena.

Carroll too was replaced to a noisy ovation, allowing the eager Bothroyd a debut. It seems unlikely Carroll’s England career will be as short lived as Kevin Davies’ but his night must have been frustrating. There was a feeling that with proper service, he could have seriously worried the French.

In the end, it was a familiar face who salvaged some pride for England. Seconds after Nasri had hit the post, Gerrard limped off , with Capello throwing on Crouch and reverting to 4-4-2. Within a minute the Spurs stiker, with just one league goal this season, met Young’s corner with a controlled finish.

Gerrard deserves a mention. He stood out in an England side that lacked cohesion and ideas and quite simply didn’t look like a team. Granted, with Terry, Lampard and Rooney to return, it is fair to expect an improvement. But as the rain continued to come down, England fans headed for the exits early knowing an equaliser was undeserved and unlikely. To their credit, the Troops stayed until the soggy end.

England v. France Preview

It will be a shame if Andy Carroll isn’t fit to start for England tonight. I was at Wembley this afternoon interviewing the early-bird fans and there was a surprising amount of excitement prior to the match, most of it about the prospect of seeing the Newcastle striker.

Fans could have been forgiven for staying away from the game. In their last match at Wembley, England served up a dour nil all draw with Montenegro and tonight is just a friendly, with many established stars like Wayne Rooney, John Terry and Ashley Cole missing. But the prospect of facing the old enemy, France, has brought out the best in England supporters and the game has been sold out for days.

Everyone I spoke to mentioned Carroll. He seems to be a popular figure across the country, despite his alleged off-field misdemeanours. Jordan Henderson and Kieran Gibbs were less talked out but it is good to finally see some genuine change in England’s ranks, albeit enforced through injury. It remains to be seen whether they will be good enough but some players, like Adam Johnson, take to international football and Carroll and Henderson, in particular, deserve their chance.

Another player who could make an international debut from the bench is Chris Smalling. I don’t want to pick on him – he’s done nothing wrong – but his inclusion seems inexplicable and must frustrate more worthy candidates. He has made just two sub appearances in the league (Gibbs has at least started four times) and is surely benefitting from being a Manchester Utd. player.

Would Capello have been so quick to call up Smalling if he was still at Fulham? And what promise has he shown that Phil Jones of Blackburn and Gary Cahill and Zat Knight, both of Bolton, have not? Cahill is now in the squad but only in Terry’s enforced absence.

Indeed, Bolton can feel very hard done by. Kevin Davies, who I sulkily watched destroy Spurs two weeks ago, surely deserves another chance. He is 33 but he did as much as anybody to break down Montenegro in his one and only sub appearance for England.

The most interesting interview I did was with two young soldiers. They had got tickets free from the charity Tickets for Troops and it had taken them roughly 24 hours to hitch hike from their post in Northern Ireland to Wembley.

France, like England, should field a relatively young, inexperienced side. It promises to be a revealing night and fans of both sides will be hoping that the injection of youth will free up the teams and lead to an opening, attacking match.

“Ride me! Ride me!” Should Carroll join the ranks of England’s chav stars?

The furore over whether Andy Carroll should be picked for England has reignited the debate on whether the private life of footballers should have a bearing on their prospects for the national team. Does it matter that Carroll, allegedly, went on a freshers-esq binge, picked up two Geordie slags, went back to Kevin Nolan’s house and shouted, “Ride me! Ride me!”, if he is scoring goals on the pitch?

On the one hand, if Carroll is doing his job and scoring goals, who cares if he is letting off steam in his free time? On the other, he is a role model to youngsters and paid large amounts to be a professional sportsman – his behaviour should reflect this.

Personally, I am torn. I’d like to see Carroll in an England shirt because he is a quality prospect. He puts me mind of Emile Heskey in the early days, before forgot how to score. Fabio Capello clearly favours employing a battering ram to clear some room for Wayne Rooney, and Carroll fits the bill perfectly. However, there is already a nasty culture of thuggish, chav arrogance in the England squad. The last thing it needs is more.

It is the drinking that bothers me most and I fully subscribe to Harry Redknapp’s opinion that Premiership footballers shouldn’t get battered at all during the season. When you’re paid so much money for such an enviable profession, you must be prepared to make sacrifices, particularly when it is your job to remain in peak physical condition. Getting wrecked at weekends is a luxury that the rest of us, slaving 9-5 seven days a week, should enjoy. I wouldn’t begrudge footballers a few pints or glasses or wine after a match, but no more.

Shagging slags

I’ve slightly less of a problem with them shagging slags/cheating on their girlfriends. I hate hearing the opinion – it surfaced a lot during the Rooney saga – that footballers are only caught because they are stupid or that, “Rooney knows no better because he was brought up in a working-class area and not taught morals”. Rooney, along with just about everyone else in our society, knows that if you have a wife, it is frowned upon to shag sluts. He knows this as well as he knows that scoring is good and conceding is bad.

Getting caught cheating has nothing to do with intelligence. Two US Presidents have been caught doing the dirty as well as countless British politicians. No one would accuse them of being unintelligent. Equally, cheating has nothing to do with a lack of morality during upbringing. I know people who went to public school and had the most middle-class upbringing possible who wouldn’t think twice about cheating on their girlfriend or shagging a hooker. A more relevant comparison with Rooney is Peter Crouch. He’s from a middle-class family – his father was a teacher – but was caught cheating on his fit wife.

I’m not condoning the practice. It’s abhorrent. But footballers are only human. The England team are guilty of a disproportionately large amount of misdemeanours because they are the most famous and therefore under the most media scrutiny. And it is a vicious circle – the more media scrutiny you’re under, the more famous you get. Horrible sluts throw themselves at England players, invariably hoping to make money by selling their story, and once in a while they cave.

By doing so, Rooney, Crouch, Ashley Cole, John Terry et al certainly set a poor example to young fans. But they’re not acting in a way that is unique to England footballers. Those who accuse them of arrogance in thinking they can get away with infidelity should point the same finger at every love-rat in the country. And I suspect most of them are eventually rumbled, even without the media’s help.

When it comes to drinking and cheating, the two are invariably linked. Again, I would argue that Premiership and particularly England footballers should be making sacrifices and not putting themselves in positions where they’re tempted to do the dirty. But while I can understand cheating and am inclined to defend footballers against sweeping generalisations about stupidity and morals, it still needs to be cut out.

Club over Country

Carroll deserves a second chance and I’d like to see him in the England squad for the France friendly. After all, if Capello refused to pick players on the basis of their off the field behaviour, he would be left without the majority of his stars.

That said, I think there is a nasty culture in the England squad that needs to be stamped out.

I am undoubtedly club over country. If Spurs were to play England in some odd Pro-Evo style exhibition match, I would support Spurs. When they failed to qualify for the Champions League in 2007, I sulked for two weeks. When England didn’t make Euro 2008, I was disappointed for about a day. This doesn’t stem from a lack of patriotism. It stems from the lack of likeable players in the England team.

It is very easy to hate Terry and Cole when they line-up for Chelsea. I am not fickle enough to love them the week after when they pull on the three lions. Don’t get me wrong, I will always support England and hope they win. But if England played Croatia, I’m not ashamed to say I’d love to see Niko Kranjcar terrorise Cole and Luka Modric make a fool of Terry. Regardless of nationality, I like them so much more as players and people.

The best way for this apathy to change is if England start performing in major tournaments. If Terry wins us Euro 2012, I probably am fickle enough to love him. But that is a different debate. In the meantime, they should be attempting to earn the respect of the public with their actions on and off the field.

It would be worrying to add Carroll to a group that already boats such an unenviable record when it comes to off-field antics. But he shouldn’t be punished for what others have done in the past. But he needs to learn from his mistakes fast. Otherwise England will end up with another generation of horrible, sleazy, chavs and that’s the last thing anyone wants.

Is living in London worth it?

When my friend Fergus was being interviewed for a job recently, the interviewer asked him why he wanted to work in London. He was over the initial nerves by this stage and not having prepared an answer, he decided to speak from the heart.

“Err…it’s a big city with lots of people to meet and I’d quite like a girlfriend to be honest”.

He didn’t get the job.

It seems to me that this wasn’t a bad answer though. Throughout university in Newcastle I assumed that I would end up living and working in London once I’d graduated. If you’d asked me why, an honest answer would probably have been along similar lines. It’s big. Everyone seems to go there…I can watch Spurs.

I have ended up in London but my reasons were slightly different. I wanted to do an MA in Broadcast Journalism and the best options were back in Newcastle or at Westminster. I couldn’t decide between them and was torn but Newcastle withdrew my offer. I wish I could say that they had found out how much of a nutter I was as an undergrad but in truth it was because I didn’t pay the required deposit by the deadline.

I don’t regret ending up in London. If I had gone to Newcastle I would probably be sitting alone in an upstairs room going quietly mad as Oxide and/or Neutrino mashed up my living room. But I think it is a foolish and slightly snobbish notion to regard London, as I did, as the only place to end up.

I was chatting recently to Francois (French cricketer, not Portuguese footballer) who had also moved to London this summer. We were discussing the experience in general and he said something that subconsciously I had realised but never properly thought about.

“Everyone has the same life really. All our mates have been to public school, then go to similar unies – Bristol, Newcastle, Edinburgh, Manchester, Leeds and so on – then go to London and get a job in property or sports management, or some bollocks no one really understands like recruitment or management consultancy”.

There are exceptions of course; I know plenty of people who didn’t go to public school or went to a less popular uni. But broadly speaking, most people seem to follow this model. Obviously, people do these things because they are great fun and generally lead to success in life. As Francois pointed out, the best way of breaking the mould and still being a success is through extraordinary talent, as a sportsman or musician for example and this is rare.

Of the three stages in Francois’s model, it is the latter that struck me. Why does everyone want to move to London? It is a great city. There are loads of people and potential girlfriends to meet. There is plenty of sport, culture, nightlife, education and general entertainment to be found.

But the same is true of many other British cities. Newcastle, Manchester, Liverpool, Belfast, Cardiff, Edinburgh, Leeds, Birmingham, Nottingham – the list goes on. And yet very few people I encounter have a burning desire to live in these places.

I actually do think that, as England’s capital, everyone should experience London life at one stage. But there is no rush. For a young person with an active social life, London is not an easy place to live. It is so vast that it is likely you will end up a 30 minute Tube journey from your mates – there is no nipping down to Osborne Road for a pint. This makes things particularly problematic after nights out. Either work out the night-bus or cough up for a taxi, one of many excessive travel expenses that results from living there.

I consider myself lucky to be living with granny. A great location and all the home comforts that student life normally lacks, like central heating. I should also add, good company. But people seem to be willing to sacrifice quality of life to live in London.

My friend George is a great advocate of the London lifestyle. But his house is so expensive that one his flatmates has to sleep in the living room on a sofa bed. My housemates and I (…my dad) paid £75 a week to live in a brand new, six-bedroom maisonette in a prime location in Newcastle. It was ideal for students and young professionals alike. Is London worth it when other cities boast cheap properties near the city centre?

Perhaps I’m not yet appreciating London life to the full. I’m enjoying it but I won’t profess to be living the dream. I’m living with granny, have to be in Harrow (grim) from 10-5 on weekdays and have no money to do fun things at the weekend. When it comes to a career, I would happily work here if a suitable job emerged. But I’d like to think that I would have the balls to move away from everyone to another city. I would, for instance, happily work in Newcastle…although I would wait until Yaz had graduated/finally dropped out.

Hoover the dog

In a previous blog I mocked my mum and labelled her ‘odd’ after I caught her hoovering the dog. I owe her an apology. It turns out this practice is not as strange as I first thought. Dyson has released a new vacuum-cleaner attachment especially for grooming the dog.

This link explains all.

So mum, I’m sorry. I promise.

Thomas Corke: a photo blog…

I’m sorry Gu

There was one major difficulty in making a photo blog about Goose – he is a ‘detagger’. Since facebook was my main source of photos – a few were kindly loaned from Rupert Stutt’s personal collection – I am sure there are some gems that have been missed and I apologise.

I would also like to apologise to Goose. I didn’t tell him that I was going to make this blog and I hope he takes it in the spirit that it is intended. He is a great character and, above all, an odd character that needs to be celebrated. I have known him for ten years so I have had to choose my stories and sections carefully. There are no doubt some classic stories that deserve inclusion but that I’ve missed. Again, apologies to Goose fans everywhere.

A ten-year acquaintance based on respect

Nicknames are bad names

Goose: This is my personal favourite. It originates from the fact that he looked like a bloke in the year above at school, who in turn looked like a goose. A derivative is therefore, ‘mini-Goose’. He was also known briefly as ‘Millie-Goose’*. I wasn’t involved in starting this, but I think it originated because he fancied a girl named Millie at school (year below). A further derivate is ‘Guuuu’.

*for best effect, this should be shouted in his face in a whiney voice from close range

Lashman: Goose turned up at Newcastle Uni, fresh from gap year, claiming that he had drunk so much on his ski season that he had become known as ‘the Lashman’. It didn’t take long for the real version of events to emerge. In actuality, in the first week of Ski-le-Gap (also known as Ski-le-Chat, Ski-le-Lash or Ski-le-Gash), Goose got bored of introducing himself as Tom, so began introducing himself as ‘Lashman’. To his credit, the self-coined nickname stuck and it quickly caught on at Newcastle too.

Living up to his his self-proclaimed nickname

The German Professor: A lesser known nickname used exclusively by my sister and her circle of friends to whom Goose is a cult figure. It stems from Goose’s old-before-his-time appearance and glasses.

Turkey

In the summer of 2009 Goose, George Hiner and I went to Turkey for 10 days of travelling (wasn’t a holiday). Goose provided continual entertainment. After disturbing a Ramadan feast with drunken yobbery, we decided we should leave Istanbul. We went to Bodrum, a location more suited to boisterous behaviour.

We stayed at the only hostel in the resort and since every other tourist in Bodrum was on a package holiday, we were practically the only guests. It was staffed by an outrageously gay Turk called Levi, who insisted on graphically telling us about his sex life – or lack of it – and coming onto us all at every opportunity. It started off as funny but soon got weird and uncomfortable.

On our third night in the hostel, the staff joined us for pre-drinks. After a few drinking games, Levi got up and started lap dancing with a table for no obvious reason. He was grinding it and ‘shaking his booty’. Inexplicably, Goose got up and joined him. It was beyond odd; more than a slow dance. I can only describe it as dry-humping and Levi was obviously enjoying it.

Note Levi's evident enjoyment

Later that night Goose redeemed himself. We went into Bodrum’s best club determined to pull at the foam party – it had been a barren trip for all of us thus far. This looked to be changing when we met three Turkish girls who were perfect. There was an Asiany one for Hiner, one that spoke no English for me and a rotter for Goose. We invested most of our night into chatting to them and the foam proved useful for playful flirting. But just as success looked possible, they decided to leave.

The club was about to close so Hiner and I accepted defeat and headed dripping wet for the bar which was situated on a raised level, so you could look down onto the foamy dance floor. Goose, however, was determined and went off schweffing alone. When Hiner and I had got a drink, we looked down on the dance floor hoping to be able to laugh at Goose’s progress.

A dark haired girl was standing watching Goose. At first, I thought he had completely lost it and started demonstrating his thrusting action. On closer inspection, he was sliding along the floor waving his arms up and down. Whatever he was doing seemed to work because he popped up to quickly tell us he was walking down to the beach with her.

Hiner and I went back to the hostel alone. We were so bitter we considered emptying his backpack all over his bed just to make things difficult if he brought her back. He didn’t. The next day, I asked him what he was doing on the dancefloor.

“Oh. I told her I was a ski instructor and she bloody loved it. I was just demonstrating my ski-ing technique. The foam was like snow.”

 

Shortly after demonstrating his ski skills

We headed back to Istanbul on a 12 hour night bus. When we arrived Goose, who had been sitting next to a fat Turk who disliked air conditioning for the duration, was distressed. His feet had swelled to twice their normal size and his flip-flops barely fitted. Hiner and I rolled around laughing and offered poor advice. But Goose looked genuinely concerned.

As we were looking for a local bus to the city centre, Hiner and I noticed Goose was missing. We looked round and saw him twenty metres behind us, jumping up and down on the spot. He was pulling his knees up his chest and getting some good height.

“Goose, what’re you doing mate?”

“I’m trying to get the fucking circulation in my legs going!”

Nights Out

It was once remarked, I forget who by, that the definitive image of their time at Newcastle was Goose asleep on a sofa. He’s famous for it. He is the best person to invite to house parties where there are limited beds because he is virtually guaranteed to fall asleep on the sofa. Even when he sketches out and leaves the festivities early, he will normally head straight to the sofa instead of taking an available bed.

 

 

 

 

Goose loves his big nights but he saviours his time off more than anyone I know. It was common for him to have a massive night, pull someone he wished he hadn’t and then not appear again in public for over a week. His housemates, when I was at Uni, were all extremely nice guys who treated him with respect but none of our group of friends actually knew them. He liked having different people he could take refuge with, who treated him with respect.

Goose has an interesting track record with girls. All I can say is that he occasionally gets a drunken idea in his head and, as in Turkey, will stop at nothing until he has pulled. His tactics involve being as rude to the girl as possible and removing his glasses. The pictures tell a fuller story.

I hope Goose takes this blog in good humour as it is meant. I wouldn’t want to offend him because he is one of my best mates. His oddness continually makes me laugh and my world would be a more dull place if he wasn’t in it.