The Spiders Eat Mars

I'm confused.

Looking over someone's shoulder this morning at what I thought was The Daily Xenophobe, I saw the headline, "Piggy Stardust", basically an article taking the piss out of David Bowie's new-found weight.

Now I look on The Xenophobe's website and I see that "with a hint of a double chin and a wide smile, he looked much healthier than in his hollow-cheeked days."

Being a fan of the old Bowie, I much prefer the former approach.

So does anybody remember these lines from some of David's old songs?

The return of the fat white duke

Ground control to Major Tom...Take your slimming pills and put your corset on

We can eat them, just for one day. We can eat Cheerios, just for one day

Ashes to ashes, funk to funky...We know Major Tom's a chunky

Let's not dance...I'd rather sit this one out and tuck into the buffet


My sides are splitting. Literally! I'm on the Bowie Diet!

The 400 Million Blows

So I open a new box of tissues and what do I see? Not the usual advertisements for hayfever products at this time of year. No, I see "Kleenex For Men: 50 Years of Mansize Strength 1956 - 2006".

I'm not an 8 stone weakling but I'm certainly not a strong man. OK, I can just about open most jars handed to me by arthritic pensioners, but really the only things that say "big strong man" about me are the tissues I use.

50 years of Kleenex For Men. I'm guessing that the 'ex' stands for 'emissions'. When it's used as a suffix, such as Kleen-ex and Dur-ex, we're talking about the containment of emissions. When used as a prefix, such as Ex-lax, well that's just the opposite.

I'm very happy with my Kleenex. You see, growing up I had a cotton handkerchief. It was my task to decide when it was dirty. When I'd decided it was, I'd throw it in the washing machine. Of course when I had one of my regular nosebleeds, then it was dirty. But for the usual day-to-day effluent, I just had to ask myself how long I could tolerate a wet right pocket.

I probably started using Kleenex For Men when I started to do my own washing. And it revolutionised my life. My right thigh never felt drier or more confident. And my nose appreciated being wiped dry rather than wet. Those horrible germs now got thrown onto landfill sites for seagulls to chew instead of being dissipated amongst the weekly wash.

So happy birthday, Kleenex For Men. You beat those other girly tissues to a pulp. And you sure made a man of me.

An Audience With Coronation Street

"An Audience With..." is an ITV institution. There's usually a star alone onstage who answers questions put to him/her by members of an audience which is completely made up of celebrities. In between the questions/answers, the subject of the show sings or tells jokes or does whatever they're famous for.

An Audience With Coronation Street is different. Here, the audience take turns to get up on stage. Because the audience is made up of past and present Corrie actors mixed in with a few ITV personalities I recognise, such as sports presenter Jim Rosenthal (above), and hamster faced charlatan Gillian Mckeith, and quite a few personalities I have never seen before. Because the only programme I watch on ITV is Corrie.

So the Corrie stars get to go onstage and introduce nonentities from Emmerdale and that Ice Dancing programme. The nonentities then ask questions of Corrie stars in the audience. We learn that Michael le Vell was advised to trim his mono-brow by Johnny Briggs, and we learn the names of all of Sam Aston's animals at home.

There is a pleasant diversion from all this as William Roache and Sue Cleaver take us on a tour of The Street set. Now this IS interesting. William shows us the house that Len Fairclough rebuilt - it has newer bricks than the houses around it. The telephone in Number 11 is red and always had been red ever since that scarlet woman Elsie Tanner had the first telephone installed in that house. Did you know that Hilda's ducks first belonged to Elsie? And that some of Albert Tatlock's old furniture is still in use in the Barlows?

But enough of that. It's Saturday night and we want to be entertained. So in between all the talk we get the real show...The Music...

1. Richard Fleeshman sings Walking In Memphis as he pretends to play the piano. Now this is the first time I've heard Richard sing and I can sure see what all the fuss is about. He really could be the new Curtis Stigers, yes he's that good. Walking In Memphis is one of my favourite songs, it really gets to the heart of the blues as anybody who is familiar with WC Handy would...No, not WC Fields! This is serious stuff! When Richard stands up away from the piano (as the piano plays on) for the climax of the song, he is a little awkward and unsteady on his feet, reminding me of Nick Cave when he was on heroin. Yes, he's that good.

2. Andy Whyment and Jennie McAlpine perform the Elton/Kiki classic Don't Go Breaking My Heart. Andy's a real star. There was a preview to this show on the other night where they interviewed the Soapstar Superstar superstars Fleeshman and Whyment. The interviewer said is there nothing Andy can't do? Act? Dance? Sing? It's a crying shame he's been typecast in exactly the same role for both The Royle Family and Corrie, isn't it?

3. Wendi Peters performs Judy Garland's Get Happy. Wendi is so lithe and supple the way she glides over the stage. And with that pitch perfect voice, you close your eyes and you could swear it was Judy herself.

4. Louis Armstrong's Wonderful World - a jazzy interpretation by Ray Fearon and Tupele Dorgu. A stroke of genius. Take two black actors who never appear in the same scene together but don't you just know there'll be chemistry between them? They're natural jazz singers, of course. Why stick to the tune when you can improvise like that?

5. Beverley Callard and Simon Gregson perform Guns & Roses' Sweet Child O' Mine. Wow! Doesn't Bev look HOT in her black leather rock chick outfit? And Simon! What a pair of lungs! Just a shame the song only lasts 37 seconds.

6. A grand finale of Richard and Andy's belting rendition of Hey Jude. JUDY JUDY JUDY JUDY BABY! And isn't that Callard's orgasmic scream we hear?


Sorry I didn't mention the tribute to Johnny Briggs but I'm sick to the back fucking teeth with tributes to extremely rich people.

Searches Made By Dirty Perverted Perverts

1. Aunt sex
2. Man watches wife getting fucked
3. Tickeld guys
4. 'Smelly knickers'
5. Dog meaty cocks
6. UK nudist blogs
7. Wearing my little sister's frilly knickers
8. Matronly breasts
9. Hairless bollocks
10. Bare breasts in sheer tops
11. Wet knicker close ups
12. Pictures of obese men with large breasts
13. Hairy sucking grannies
14. Wet dreams hire
15. Grannies sucking cock

I am proud to say that none of the men (I'm assuming they're men) were successful in finding any of the above images on either of my rather prudish blogs. I did not encourage these men and as soon as they entered my sites they would've realised that I do not peddle pornography. I do not even pedal a bicycle anymore as I've heard that the friction of thigh on saddle can make some poor souls horny.

I'm sorry that over the past few days I've felt the need to illustrate to you, my reader, just what kind of people are out there in blogland. It's a warning, yes. But hopefully you've also found it a rich seam of entertainment.

I'm just glad my grandmothers aren't here to see it.

And my big-titted great-uncle.

Searches By Downright Weirdos

1. Tickeld by the feet
2. The blood runs like a river through my dreams
3. What do boys really think of women in white?
4. What are the 12 pantomimes of a liar?
5. "Aryan flu" baby
6. Fizzy urine
7. There's nothing like this what we have sip a glass of cold wine lyrics
8. Coronation Street death clips
9. "Stink bug" phobia
10. Alzheimers described as a train journey

I'd love to know the answer to no.4. I can only think of Puss In Boots. That leaves eleven more.

And come on, boys. What do you really think of women in white? Good marriage material? Good cricketers? Or accidents waiting to happen?

Celebrity Searches of a Sexual Nature

1. Sharapova armpits
2. Michael Owen's cock
3. Jesus Christ Superstar wears frilly knickers and a see through bra
4. Gunnar Nelson Groupies
5. Jimmy Savile necrophiliac
6. Shag Holly Willoughby
7. Geoffrey Howe wet dream

No. 7 is the most disturbing image I can imagine...





Go on. Get your rocks off.

Searches for Geoffs

1. Geoff Geldof
2. Geoff Charles
3. "Geoff" and "drums"
4. Winkle stinky Geoff
5. Geoff Stone Air Conditioning
6. Geoff's nipple
7. Geoff Ray Ward

I'd better say straight away that no. 4 was not my nickname at school. My nickname at school was Bubbles, named after who I think was a Richard Beckinsale character, nicknamed Geoffrey Bubbles Bom Bom. There is also a link of course to West Ham (as in I'm forever blowing...), i.e. not Michael Jackson.

I don't know if there are any Geoff Geldofs. Obviously he wouldn't be Bob's son as Bob's son would have a silly name. What do you mean isn't "Geoff" silly enough?

I've only seen Sir Bob once on a day trip to his home town, Faversham in Kent. He was walking around town with his family and we kept bumping into him (from a distance). Of course I had to point at him and say "there he is again" every time we saw him. I'm sure he wished me dead.

The lasting memory of that day is watching Bob feel and taste the fruit from the greengrocer's market stall, eventually buying some. Bob Geldof can do this. If I tried the same thing the greengrocer would kindly tell me to fuck the fuck off, I'm sure.

Questions Questions. Give Me No Answers.

I'm feeling feverish and not really up to producing something of worth.

So what a perfect opportunity to update you on my wonderful world of search engine searches. Just what have my potential readers been typing into Google or MSN or Yahoo or Dog Breath in the last month or so?

I've sorted them into categories and will post them over the next few days as to post all of them at once would be spoiling you. Of course they're much more entertaining than the usual guff you get on here so don't expect to continue laughing at my posts when they're over.

The categories are...

Celebrity searches (various)
Searches for Geoffs
Celebrity searches of a sexual nature
Searches by downright weirdos
Searches by dirty perverted perverts

And we'll start the series off with Celebrity searches (various)

1. Family Tree of Sir Alf Ramsey
2. Solar Van Clarkson Jeremy
3. Ronnie Barker Cinderella & her ugly sisters
4. Midge Ure Hotel Room
5. "Axl Rose" "plastic surgery"
6. Douglas the Lurpak man
7. James Blunt "Piss Take"
8. Sean Bean Lives Hampstead
9. David Attenborough's Voice
10. Noel Edmonds Evil
11. Max Wall Funny Walk
12. Anita Harris and Jimmy Clitheroe pantomime
13. Richard Fleeshman turns goth
14. Teddy Sheringham - is he married?
15. Laughing Policeman David Bowie
16. Fiona Richmond what does she look like now?

I don't really want to know the answer to no. 16 as Ms Richmond sadly died a couple of years ago.

I think the parochial nature of my blogs is really apparent as the only search for a non-British celebrity is the Axl Rose one. And I do seem a bit stuck in the past, don't I?

So that's the first in a series of five and I bet you're all looking forward to the next one. In the meantime, why not tell me how you first came across this blog. Which category do you fit into?
Are you a weirdo, a pervert, or a Geoff lover?

Or maybe all three?

Tired of London?

Easter Monday, we went to London and did a few touristy things...



Look. Here's Nelson's Column.

Then we did The Princess of Wales Memorial Walk*, around the lake in St James's Park, where we...



Fed the pigeons ducks, and...



didn't feed the pelicans.

Just a perfect day.


*demurely, with our heads cocked to one side.

Talk About The Passion

This is the story of the evening we went to see The Smiths...

It was the first time I'd been to the Brixton Academy and we turned up at our usual time, hoping to catch some of the support band just in case they might one day be famous. The support band that night were James who did indeed go on to become massive vegan stadium rockers.

But we missed James and God knows how many minutes of The Smiths as it seemed that the gig had started on time. So it's not only Kraftwerk who do that sort of thing.

A couple of my friends rushed down to the Moz Pit and the remainder of us stood at the back of the long, long auditorium. We were very bored as The Smiths live were just like The Smiths on record. And what's the point of that?

The next morning I got a phone call to say that one of my friends was in hospital. On the train, on his way back from the gig that previous night, he'd asked a group of young lads to stop racially abusing an elderly couple. The meatheads got off at the same stop as my friend and proceeded to kick the shit out of him.

So there we have a story and a moral. Sticks and stones may break your bones, so don't reply to idiot words unless you can out-muscle the idiots.

Getting on for a quarter of a century later and James' Tim Booth plays Judas in The Manchester Passion. Tim eats nothing but bacon now so he could well be a real life Judas to Morrissey, too. Where once was a floppy, curly mop of wanky hair, there is now a bald pate. He looks mad in the way Michael Stipe looks mad, i.e. not very convincingly mad.

This is the story of Jesus Christ's crucifixion and resurrection updated to the 1990s, including the most famous songs of some of Manchester's finest pop proponents (and Stoke's Robbie Williams), performed by actors, Tim Booth and Denise Johnson.

The bloke playing Jesus is John Simm-lite with even less charisma. He makes his way to Albert Square from one direction, whilst a large neon cross is carried from another part of the city by some nutty Christians followed by the flotsam and jetsam of people of all faiths and apparently some of none.

We speak to a Muslim who says that Jesus is a prophet but not the son of God (which kind of does make Jesus a blasphemer) and a Scottish so-called punk who found Jesus in his early twenties , is now 29 and says that if Christ were alive now he would be at home with the freaks and the weirdos in the mosh pit of a punk gig. Oooooh, how weird!

But bollocks to the cross, the real action is happening where the actors are...

The Songs

1. As Judas leaves the rest of the gang to tell the authorities where Jesus is, he suddenly feels really bad about what he is about to do. He looked for a job and he found a job (and the reward) but heaven knows he's miserable now. Why does he spend so much time with people who don't care whether he lives or dies? This is accompanied by an acoustic guitar which confuses me as Dylan was called Judas for going electric. Booth yelps at the end like Morrissey with his knackers in a vice.

2. Meanwhile on the stage in Albert Square, mother Mary (Denise Johnson) sings M People's Search for the hero inside yourself, the theme to London's Olympic bid. The chorus is subtitled for us to sing along to at home. We do so with gusto.

3. As the disciples fall asleep at the last supper, Jesus for some reason sings James truly shit anthem, Sit Down. Now if the disciples have fallen asleep over their creme caramels, presumably they are already sitting down. Still, you've gotta give it to Jesus, he gets the audience watching him on the big screen sitting down like twats (well, with the guidance of our MC, prime stinky sausage Keith Allen, anyway).

4. Blue Monday. Judas comes back to the fold only to be forgiven by the saviour. They sing this one together, Judas with the line "If it wasn't for your misfortine, I'd be a heavenly person today." Deep, eh?

5. I Am The Resurrection, just the verse mind, sung by the token black disciple as the cops come to take away our hero. The disciple denies he knows Jesus. Oooh, isn't this such a HUMAN story?

6. Mary starts up her first version of Robbie's Angels on stage. Suitable because Angels is the most popular funeral song of our age. I just wish they'd cremate the fucking thing.

7. After Barrabas, played by the REAL star of the show, Chris Bisson formerly of Corrie, is pardoned and Jesus is sentenced to death by Keith Allen, Keith and Jesus then sing Wonderwall together. What the fuck?

8. Mary's rolled on again for Elkie Brooks' Sunshine After The Rain as the crucifixion takes place elsewhere as Keith says we don't have public executions any more.

9. Jesus suddenly appears by the Town Hall Clock and sings the CHORUS to I Am The Resurrection. This is what we have been waiting for and the audience go mad and we all sing along at home.

10. Out of the blue, Angels starts up again, there is an enormous cheer and we think Robbie's turned up, but no it's the whole cast joining in the great dirge. Keith Allen says goodnight it's all in The Bible and we're all born again. The midwife slaps my arse and makes me cry.



** As this was the Manchester Passion, there is of course a cameo appearence by Anthony H Wilson.

Jesus H Christ.

One a Penny, Two a Penny, Hot Cross Buns

I've been neglecting my duties. This blog started out as a review blog of the best and worst of the television programmes you may or may not have seen on British tv. I can sense you're all missing those halcyon Heimat days so, as a special treat, this Good Friday I will attempt to watch BBC3's The Passion of Jesus Christ.

It is to be performed live in Manchester's shining Albert Square (not to be confused with the one in Eastenders), with a cast of not only pop stars and actors but the silly general public, too.

It is hosted by...

It is hosted by the...

It is hosted by the great...

It is hosted by the great twat Keith Allen and I for one can't wait for him to get his knob out and piss in someone's beer.

If it's anything as passionate as The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, well, we're all in for one hell of a treat.

What's Up Doc?

Just back from the doctor's where I was given the all-clear...to continue taking the medication I've been experimenting with for the past couple of weeks. As I was about to leave he said...

"You're a journalist, aren't you?"

I am not. I am a kind of manager stroke administrator stroke glorified bookkeeper. My doctor has known me for thirteen years. He must know I'm not a journalist. Maybe the blogging is paying off at last and I give off the aura of one who earns his living by the written word.

"Well I suppose that can be stressful, can't it?"

"It's not too bad."

Blameless Bob

Being a ridiculous kind of manager stroke administrator, I often receive what I can only describe as "useless stuff" through the post and via email. Only this morning I received an email headed, "Headset Heaven!" Of course, having no truck with those Scientologist fruitcakes, I deleted it without opening it.

A company called SkillPath regularly sends me the same information about the same seminar which they seem to hold throughout the year. It's offered to managers and supervisors and it's titled, "Dealing Effectively With Unacceptable Employee Behaviour (How to get the productivity, cooperation and results you need without incurring resentment or damaging relationships)"

I wish they'd stop sending me this rubbish. The employees I supposedly manage behave perfectly acceptably in the main. But SkillPath seems to think there's a problem. And that if I supervise one or more of these employees, I need to take action NOW! Yes, NOW!

1. Antagonist
2. Blameless Bob
3. Whiner
4. Thumb-Twiddler
5. Insubordinate Subordinate
6. Tortoise
7. Amy Attitude
8. Hand-Holder
9. Early Retiree
10. Worrywart
11. Clock Watcher

Gee, is that the time already? This lunch sure is for wimps.

(We Don't Need This) Fascist Groove Thing

If you have a racist friend
Now is the time, now is the time
For your friendship to end
Be it your sister, be it your brother
Be it your cousin, or your uncle, or your lover
Be it your best friend, or any other
Is it your husband, or your father, or your mother
Either change their views
Or change your friends

So say The Specials. Wives, children, aunts and grandparents should really be added to the list.

Yes, lads, I've followed this throughout my life. I've never knowingly had a racist friend. But are family really friends? Isn't it a fact that you can choose your friends but not your family or your workmates. And just how racist is racist? Because most of the people I know are racist to differing degrees. And how the fuck am I supposed to change their views?

"So I phoned the number and I was put through to India. I had to ask him to speak slowly, couldn't understand what he was saying. Finally got the answer then he asks me is there anything else he can help me with..."

"Yeah. You can learn bloody English for a start."

And these are people I like. I wouldn't call them friends but I find it very difficult to make friends. Even more difficult to meet women in the past, as soon as they uttered the words "Paki shop" that's it for me, I'm afraid. Whatever slight interest I had just disappeared. And then there's family. Ah, family...

My grandparents had a black dog they called Nigger. That was many years ago, before I was born so they had an excuse.

As did my grandad when he always used to say that Britain would one day be "overrun by Pakis" as "they breed like rabbits." He had the excuse that he was born in the 19th century.

My so-called socialist dad used to say, when angry about some bastard big businessman, "Hitler was right about the Jews." But my dad had the excuse that he was born before the Second World War.

And it continues. There are the conversations I have where I am asked questions which always start off, "But don't you think that THEY...?"

There are the "POLITICAL CORRECTNESS GONE MAD" conversations..."You used to have a golliwog, Geoff. You had one of those Robertson jam badges."

Yes. How old was I? Did I ASK for a golliwog? Yes, I probably did, but I didn't know any better. What's your excuse? Ah, you were born before the War!

But I don't speak out. I keep quiet amongst my groups of all-white people (yes, all-white because that's the way it's been for me for the past 20 years, don't tell me we're an integrated nation).

One day, though I did speak out. Pathetically.

He'd been to Australia on holiday and loved it. "Met some lovely people. But you know what? They've got our problem over there, too. There are less immigrants over there but immigration is becoming a worry." (By which I assumed he meant non-white immigration).

IMMIGRATION? AUSTRALIA? DID HE KNOW WHAT THE WHITE BRITISH ESTABLISHMENT SCUM DID TO THE NATIVE ABORIGINES?

Of course I said nothing of the sort. I just went very red and said I couldn't listen to this rubbish anymore and I stormed out into the kitchen. I didn't even pick up a knife.

I can't do it, Specials. I can't spend my life arguing.

Still, I can get on my anonymous soapbox, can't I?

Choo Choo Train News

Overseen On The Train

Spotted over someone's shoulder, in The Sun newspaper, new ipod for books ( you can store hundreds of books on a portable device and read them whenever and wherever you like).

I don't want to piss on Apple's chips, but don't we already have a portable device that we can use to read our fiction or non-fiction favourites? They're called books. You can take them anywhere, they don't mind being battered about, you can carry on tomorrow where you left off today.

Of course, if anybody wants to read 100 books at a time, or maybe wants to read an encyclopedia at random, then the new device will be very handy.

Overheard On The Train - 1

The portable music device, however, has transformed countless lives. You can even listen to spoken word versions of books on them, handy if you want to explore Dickens but feel the need to drift off during certain long, tedious passages.

I know how people moan about hearing other people's music on public transprt. It doesn't usually bother me. But it did yesterday.

A 45 minute fret-wank guitar solo, that's all I could hear. Some heavy metal shit. And then the bloke stood up and he was carrying a canvas shoulder bag with those silly band patches on. Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden, Manowar. So...

BASICALLY HE LIKES ANYTHING WITH LOUD GEETARS!...EH? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!...I SAID THE GEEZER'S GOT SOME TASTE. SOME, BUT NOT A LOT! HIS EARS ARE FUCKED!...EH? WHAT DID YOU SAY?

Overheard On The Train - 2

"Last night? It was alright. He went Spanish and I chilled out."

"He wants to be careful. He's walking on thin ice...He might tip her over the edge."

Off His Trolley

So Mike Baldwin's gonna bite the dust. His heart's gonna give out and he's gonna fall into the arms of several times love rival, former angry young man Ken Barlow. Mike's gonna say, "Deirdre always loved ME." Then he'll pop his clogs. It won't be such a long, drawn out death in the end, not your typical dementia case. Mike'll die in the street, with his suit on.

And if you've been affected by Johnny Briggs' acting, here's the number of the SHIT PLOTS HELPLINE where you can donate money to the Alzheimer's Society. Give them a ring and tell them how much Mike forgetting that his son had shagged his missus made you cry. Tell them how you've been crying for the arsehole head of a dynasty torn apart by men's infidelity. Tell them how your sorrow translates into you caring about the thousands of poor sods who remember their first kiss but don't know the current Prime Minister's name - IT RHYMES WITH PRAYER. They might suggest you make a donation out of your meagre pension which has been increased in line with the price of bread rather than wages since the self-serving Tories moved poorer pensioners' goalposts in the eighties. Fancy making a donation? £2 a month? £5 a month? Come on, you can afford a fiver a month! Cut down on those bloody toffees for a start, they're not doing you any good, there's no real dietary value in them.

Come on, a fiver a month. It might be an investment in your own future, after all.

ABACAB - 24 Hr Taxi Service

Nobody ever tags me so bollocks to you, I'm nicking a meme from Spinsterella and Cultural Snow.

1. A track from your early childhood - Michelle or Penny Lane by the Beatles. I remember us driving through London at night with one of these playing on the car radio. Except I'm sure we didn't have a car radio. Not so sure we had a car. Whenever I hear these songs I always feel a little sad, though. Those lovely minor chords make me ache for the innocence and sheer uncomplicated happiness of those days. They weren't the Swinging Sixties for me, they were the warm and comfortable sixties. Until I started school. Then boy did we swing.

2. A track that you associate with your first love - Ben by Michael Jackson. Memories of the girl picking blackheads from my skin as we listened to this soppy shit. Before she told me I'd always assumed Ben was Michael's pet dog. He wasn't. He was a fucking rat.

3. A track that reminds you of a holiday trip - Don't You Forget About Me by Simple Minds. We were on a skiing trip in Aviemore. I was with a group of lads who I'm sure didn't want me there as they were the sort of adventurous young men who would turn up at a ski resort with no skiing experience and with no tuition would be hurtling down the black run by the end of the first day. I was the sort of young man who was shit scared of heights and couldn't even get on the chairlift. Don't You Forget About Me was playing in a bloody awful disco as I drank pints of horrible McEwans bitter in an attempt to forget I was there. Of course the bitter didn't stay down for long.

4. A track that you like but wouldn’t want to be associated with in public - I still have a soft spot for Follow You Follow Me by Genesis (pictured). Even after all these years and hating Phil Collins and Mike and the Mechanics and yes, Genesis, as I do.

5. A track that accompanied you when you were lovesick - Who do you think I am? A girl?

6. A track that you have probably listened to most often - Probably Shipbuilding by Elvis Costello. I spent the 80s in love with Elvis. But now his voice just annoys me, so put-on. Same goes for Tom Waits and Nick Cave, used to love 'em, now can't be arsed. I prefer Robert Wyatt's version of Shipbuilding, but I've really heard the thing too many times.

7. A track that is your favourite instrumental - Any of the food inspired tunes by Booker T. and the MG's. i.e. not Soul Limbo (the one that used to introduce BBC's cricket). I just can't get down that low.

8. A track that represents one of your favourite bands - Virginia Plain by Roxy Music. Why? Why not? Lucky dip and Roxy won.

9. A track which represents yourself best - Showroom Dummies by Kraftwerk.

10. A track that reminds you of a special occasion (which one?) - The Bomb! (These Sounds Fall Into My Mind) by The Bucketheads. The occasion? I knew I wanted to be with my special lady for the rest of my life. (Pass the sick bucket).

11. A track that you can relax to - There's Nothing Like This by Omar: "Sip a glass of cold champagne wine...The rug that we lie on feels divine...And there’s no parallel for we two...Ecstasy the word of the night...Ringing in our ears, we’re inflight...There’s no substitution...For what we have...No others can have" ONLY JOKING - Actually I am a very cool guy and I relax to whole box sets of Trojan CDs.

12. A track that stands for a really good time in your life - Can't really pick one out. Hundreds over the past 10 years. (KEEP PASSING ROUND THAT BUCKET).

13. A track that is currently your favourite - The charts have ben shit this year, haven't they? Probably Red Dress by Sugababes. Not their best by a long way but still the best pop song out now.

14. A track that you’d dedicate to your best friend - A Billy Childish track. Any Billy Childish track. They all sound the same to me. But I think that's the idea.

15. A track that you like especially for its lyrics - In Germany Before the War by Randy Newman. Gives me a lump in the throat every time. And Anarchy in the UK by the Sex Pistols, of course.

16. A track that you like that’s neither in English nor German - Bonnie and Clyde by Serge Gainsbourg. OK, there is a little English in it. What do you want them to sing, "Bonnie et Clyde?" And what about Je Suis Un Rock Star by Bill Wyman? Classique Franglais.

17. A track that lets you release tension best - Number One Song In Heaven by Sparks with Giorgio Moroder. And I'm sweating buckets on my treadmill, wearing those little shorts like Kel does in the great Kath and Kim.

18. A track that you want to be played at your funeral - Funeral For A Friend (Love Lies Bleeding) by Elton John. Followed as it is on the album by Candle in the Wind. Those two'll make me sound like I had an interesting life. "The candle burned out long before the legend ever did." Why has nobody else ever chosen that song for their funeral? We're all legends to someone.

Well, I quite enjoyed that. I know you didn't.

Anybody else want a go?

Many Happy Returns, Young Edward

So it's happy birthday to Teddy Sheringham, 40 today. And as promised, here are 10 things I love about Teddy boy...

1. Teddy is my royalty. The Queen Mother was 99 for about three years. Teddy has been 39 for at least four. I have never cheered real royalty. I have never shouted out to Prince Charles, "Go on my son!" I have never chanted, "Oh, Charlie Charlie! Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Wi..indsor!" It doesn't scan and besides, he's not the most inspirational of human beings, is he?

2. Teddy has vision. He can read a game. These are the kind of players I like, slow of foot but quick of brain. I worship Bobby Moore for this reason.

3. Teddy lives locally. He does not live in the country next door to Madonna. He lives amongst the people. Except with a bigger house than the people.

4. Teddy is loved by the fans of every club he has played for. A player who is loved by fans of Millwall, Tottenham and West Ham alike is a bloody good example in my book. Because I have nothing against supporters of other clubs. I might dislike the chairman, the manager, or the way the team plays. But us fans are all in the same boat (speaking as a wimpy armchair fan).

5. Teddy has loyalty. Even at the age of 40, Tottenham wanted him back at the end of this season. He'd rather stay and finish his career at his present club where he feels his work is unfinished.

6. Teddy likes a drink without using it as an excuse to beat up women. Remember the Dentist's Chair pictures from before Euro 96? Can you see Teddy ending up at The Priory? I don't think so. He's enjoying himself too much.

7. Teddy likes his chips. He was spotted locally eating chips outside a local chip shop when he should have been pre-season training. Beats all that chicken and pasta shit.

8. Teddy is not afraid to take his clothes off for charity. He is pictured with other footballers in a naked line up with his hands covering his privates. It's all in aid of a Bollock Cancer charity. Can you imagine Bobby Charlton doing that for his fellow man? And I know Jackie once paraded around with his cock out on a tv documentary about Middlesbrough FC, but I couldn't see woor Jackie whipping out the big man for a good cause.

9. A quote from ex-teammate Neil Ruddock: "He's got a body like a 19-year-old, with a six-pack and not an ounce of fat. He's also never been married, so he's probably had no stress." So he's never had a young lady up the aisle? Good on you, Teddy! Weddings are crap, aren't they?

10. A quote from ex-teammate, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer: "Teddy always trained hard and gave it his all, although I have to say he had a knack of knowing when to get injured - around November so he could get a sneaky week in the Bahamas."

Take it easy, Teddy. We love you.