Sunday, January 28, 2007

I Like It *

Following on from the last post ... saw it, liked it - but so too, probably, did the other 16 potential tenants/buyers. Que Sera Sera and all that ...

Anyway, afterwards went round to watch second half of the Inverness v Celtic game in the pub. Celtic were terrible, as I exclaimed to the ex later and here the conversation went:

Me: "Celtic were totally pish today."
Her: "What was the score?"
Me: "They won 2-1 but they were fucking atrocious! I fucking hate Neil Lennon and Gravesen kept doing what he's done all season which is give the fucking ball away"
Her: "Lucky they play in the SPL then!"
Me: Thinking "English chube" but saying "glass of wine?"

They were fucking rubbish and have now stretched their lead at the top of the table to 19 points. We could have the league won by St Patrick's Day weekend, which will be significant for many Celtic fans, but won't make a blind bit of difference to me. That we win it as soon as possible is all I care about and that Rangers end up as low down the table as possible is equally as important.

Great week coming up:

Monday: Going to be busy as fuck at work and then travel to Northampton to see JJ for an evening of fine wine and dining (ok, we're going to a Weatherspoons and then off to the chippy)
Tuesday: Busy as fuck at work and then playing six-a-side fitba under the floodlights - I will score, I will score, I will score!
Wednesday: Busy as fuck at work and then looking after my son at night.
Thursday: Do fuck all at work and watch some shite DVD at night.
Friday: Do a bit of work and then get the house tiday in the afternoon in preparation for JJ's visit at night and then cook a totally stupendous meal - I have all sorts of ideas for the meal, such as champagne cocktails, fondue for starters, lamb steaks and such like. In fact, if anyone has read this month's Sainsbury's magazine, they will know exactly what I plan to cook!

And, of course, in between all that there will be organising pickets, rallies, demos, meetings, etc, for the dispossessed, for peace, against war, against imperialism, for socialism and other such causes.

* Rezillos (not the original, of course, but a cover)


No Room *

Off to view a house in Cold Blow Lane this afternoon. For those who don't know, Cold Blow Lane was, until about 1995, the home of Millwall. They then, with the help of Lewisham Council, upped sticks and moved about 300 yards down the road to Senegal Fields. Back to the house I'm going to see ... It's a shared ownership job - well, show me a single person who can afford a mortgage in London and I'll show you someone who works in the City/has an inheritance/has rich parents who provides them with everything they ever need (* delete as appropriate). It would be fun to have a home which overlooks the site of the old Den, within spitting distance, in fact, of the old - and this is rather obvious - Cold Blow Lane end of the ground, which is were I first saw the side on my move to SE14 in September 1988.

Talking of football, I have just seen Chelsea take the lead against Nottingham Forest after Shevchenko was left totally unmarked in the area at a corner. Okay, the Russian has had a bit of a dodgy season so far, but a player who was bought for £30 million at the start of the season being left with no-one marking him in the box? For fuck's sake, that is just stupid! I predict at least a 5-0 thrashing for Forest in this one!

And no time to mention the great afternoon I had with JJ yesterday. Lovely lunch, lovely wine, lovely walk on Primrose Hill - it was all rather lovely!

* Spizz Energi


Tuesday, January 23, 2007

No One Likes Us *

So we are about to kick off for this one. It's the rearranged fixture following this. I wish I was there - for more reasons than just the game, of course!
And another of course, this could all go horribly wrong - the game, I mean!
*Millwall's unofficial anthem


Monday, January 22, 2007

Fireworks *

"We're the real Friends of Ted." "No, we're the real Friends of Ted!"

* Cristina Dona (check out her wonderful Goccia, as recommended to me by - namedrop coming up - Robert Wyatt (in fact, I think he's playing trumpet on it)).


Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now *

Right, so this is why I wasn't at my happiest today!

* The Smiths


Sunday, January 21, 2007

Some Kinda Love *

Some Saturday nights are brilliant - you go out with loads of mates, along with the one you love, dancing all night, more than a few drinks, maybe get to the cinema for a film and out for a meal and then home to bed.

And some Saturday nights are even better - you relax in front of a great, fantastic and funny film, you cook a nice meal together, you have some lovely wine, the one you love falls asleep on your shoulder and then it's off to bed. Thank you!

*Velvet Underground

Something's Wrong *

Good piece in this weekend’s New York Times, in the business section, of course, on David Beckham’s move in the summer to LA Galaxy. You can read the whole thing here, but try this for a taster:

“Soccer is ultimately an entertainment industry, and stars were bred in radio, films and television long before soccer became such big business. Hiring David Beckham is a lot like returning to the studio system of the 1940s, when a star would be expected to lend his talents to a string of movies, all for the same company and perhaps even the same director. But that system didn’t last in Hollywood, since actors asserted their bargaining power. And it hasn’t really worked in soccer, either.
The old North American Soccer League, which closed down in 1984, was the star system carried to an extreme. Aging magicians of the game — even Pelé, its reigning legend — were collected from around the world to play matches in football stadiums. But the opportunity to see men who were household names, at least for soccer fans, in the dusk of their careers did not create enough momentum for the league to survive. A previous attempt to bring an unquestioned star of the European game, Lothar Matthäus of Germany, to American shores ended quickly and in acrimony a few years ago.
Mr. Matthäus was offered far less money than Mr. Beckham, though, and Mr. Beckham is a different sort of commodity. He is a marketing powerhouse, and the Beckham name is known to many people who have little interest in his athletic talents. Nevertheless, his allure as a salesman may slacken once his ability on the field ebbs away.”

Not a lot of startling originality, I accept, but that is just the point. Here is a national league which has not exactly caught the imagination of the mass sporting public – football, of course, still lags way behind baseball, grid-iron, basketball and ice hockey. It may lag behind many other sports, but those are the ones which spring to mind. Hey, I may be wrong on this, so I stand to be corrected if football does not in fact lag behind any of them in terms of fans attending matches and viewing figures for televised games. But why would anyone think that one individual and ageing football player who will probably never play for their national team again can make a difference where the likes of Pele, Beckenbauer and Best have failed in the past? The obscene amounts of money being given to Beckham – "whose bonuses could exceed the entire payroll of the rest of the league" – are doomed to failure. They have to be, nothing else for it!

On a related subject, am I the only one who thinks that English football this week took another step towards its own death as a spectator sport for anyone other than the supporters of a chosen few? Well, I know I’m not the only one as JJ had this thought when I spoke to her about it last night also. The side which finishes bottom of the Premiership next season will receive nearly £30 million yes, the bottom side. This can only result in a few things, such as bigger and bigger squads, with fringe players on inflated salaries that the lower league sides cannot compete with. So all those exciting players in the Championship, League One and League Two will say goodbye to first-team football and hello to maybe the chance of sitting on the bench for a League Cup match or a meaningless end-of-season affair for a mid-table club. Best league in the world? Well, if the proliferation of cash for Premiership clubs results in a more open style of football, with teams wanting to win rather than being frightened to lose, if it means a challenge for the title from more than two or three clubs every season, if it means more success in the Champions League (two Champions League/European Cup winners in the last 20 years does not make for a successful league set-up, I would suggest), then maybe all this money will be worth it.
So what’s the point of my rant? Fuck knows, but I thought I would make it nevertheless.

*Jesus and Mary Chain


Monday, January 15, 2007

Car Trouble *

All that talk over at JJ's about cars, parking tickets, etc, jolted my memories of some of my own car problems of the past . . .

Car trouble 1 - Take, for instance, the morning I was taking the boy to his nursery and, on turning the corner into the street where the car was parked, found that the car was in pieces all over the road. I then phoned the police and told them where the car was and what state it was in only to be told that I would have to appear at the local cop station in person as they don't do visits for car crime (as this is what we thought it was at the time). So, after walking to the nursery (well, the exercise done me good), I take a stroll to the cop shop and make a formal statement about the smashed car (which, incidentally, looked like a right off - correct assumption we were later informed by kindly mechanic). All the necessaries done (with full description of car, where it was, when I found it like that, etc etc), I go back home, when, a few minutes after I got in, knock on door. It's a neighbour who I have never spoken to before who tells me that the car was, in fact, smashed into by a police car going the wrong way up this one-way street as they pursued, we later found out, a car thief who was out of his face on speed/Es/coke (not really sure what it was, but reliably informed that he was totally wasted on some sore of recreational medicine). This pursuit had everyone outside except the residents of my place (we are sound sleepers). Neighbours had told the coppers whose car it was but they didn't seem too bothered about either knocking on the door or, even, of slipping a note through the letter-box. So, on receiving this news, I phone cop shop and ask what the fuck is going on only to hear the response: "Oh, THAT car?" Arseholes. Anyway, car was a right off and we couldn't fucking claim on the insurance because we had to wait until the junkie tosser's court case (yes, they eventually caught him) was over as liability for whose insurance company was to pay up couldn't be settled until he was found guilty! Insurance companies - also tossers! Our insurance wouldn't pay out as the smashed car was obviously not our fault. Police insurance wouldn't pay out as they were pursuing a felon. And bloke whose car was nicked wouldn't pay out until guilt was established. Other problem arose when smashed car was nicked while waiting for one of the bastard insurance companies to take it away. Prime suspects for this one - all those breakers' yards in Cold Blow Lane and elsewhere in the vicinity.

Car trouble 2 - hearing car alarm go off and going outside and finding two blokes running away after smashing window. On pursuing the two blokes, I realised one was rather large. That I caught up with him made me really scared. That he evaded my rather weak grasp made me really happy. Coppers telling me how stupid I was for chasing them made me feel, well, really stupid.

Car trouble 3 - the ex and her mum experiencing driving on the M1 with burst tyre and evading death from oncoming lorry by mere centimetres.

Car trouble 4 (and this is a long one) - we decided (well, the ex decided as I didn't "do" decisions) not to take out AA cover before our driving holiday to France as, well, we wasted that money the previous five trips. There we are on our happy holds, on the way to the Vendee region when something weird happens and smoke bellows from car. We stop on hard shoulder of the motorway. We are at least 100 miles from our destination. We don't know what to do. We don't have fucking AA cover. French mechanics patrolling other carriageway shout something in French (well, it is their country, after all) and wave and make a sign to say: "stay there!" Well, with no funtioning car of our own, we ain't fucking going anywhere. Mechanics in lorry eventually turn up and start speaking in French. We don't know how to speak French (she, because Spanish is her game and me, well, now wish I had not played truant so much). One word we do understant is "kaput" as mechanic is looking at the engine. He then phones his garage and hands us the phone to speak to woman there who tells us to accompany mechanic back to garage and we can sort stuff out there. All three of us - me, the ex and the boy - don't know what the fuck to think but to the garage we go while car is hoisted on back of this lorry. Garage folk tell us they will have to have a look at the car and then tell us what should be done - this will take a couple of hours. We walk off to cafe in this little village which has one cafe and, of course, a garage - not a lot else. The cafe has stopped serving food for the day, so it's a drink and a packet of crisps. The ex decides to phone her brother for an opinion on this car business, but the brother, rather discuss car problems tells her that her dad was rushed to hospital that morning having suffered two heart attacks. This is now worse than a nightmare. We gather ourselves while seeming to act brave for the boy (we have put on a tremendous show, btw, as will be demonstrated later) and head back to the garage. Staff there tell us that the car is a right off. We are stunned. We don't know what the fuck to do. The garage folk suggest we hire a car from them. We search our purses, wallets, luggage etc - quite bizarrely, we have come to France without either of our driving licences (you cannot hire a car without one). So, no care, hundred miles from campsite, no fucking licences, so we have to hire a taxi to take not only us but all our luggage (this, btw, is the holiday when we had just purchased luggage rack for car roof, so we have not only clothing, but also the boy's scooter, bike, bbq gear and all sorts of shit. We pack as much as possible into people carrier taxi and carry on with our journey, with the ex, meanwhile and quite obviously, worried sick about her dad. But not before garage people tell us that we shall have to return and do the official and legal paperwork that is required to take car off the road. We don't know if we are being ripped off and simply have to take their assessment of the car. Get to the campsite, eventually, where we have to pay taxi driver £150 or thereabouts. But at least we are there and the weather is lovely and there is a shop which sells beer and lots of beer is then consumed by all (except, of course, the boy, who has gone off and instantly made friends, who he hangs about with for the duration of the holiday). Phone calls are then made home and we get someone to post our driving licences. We enquire over the next few days at the camp site's reception and are told that nothing has arrived. Friend back home assures us that they were posted. We enquire again and again at reception until very fucking rude receptionist says, okay, "we did get this envelope a couple of days ago but thought you'd ask for it." That we had asked for it over the previous 48 hours is ignored. We have driving licences and get to hire a car. First things first, get back to the village where the car is - it's a day trip, btw. Get back there and get taken to breaker's yard where car is already smashed to smithereens and paperwork is signed, sealed and delivered! Our holiday commences. We get as much stuff as possible back to Calais in hired car, but have to leave a few things behind, including quite an expensive bbq, but, as we are travelling back on ferry as foot passengers, no alternative. We get across the Chanel and are last to walk through customs when the shit bag in the uniform decides that we are the chosen ones for a search. To say that we are fucked by this stage is an understatement. We eventually get through, get to Dover train station and head for home. We get through the door, we are knackered, this holiday has cost us a car, hundreds of pounds on taxis and hire cars and train tickets from Dover to London. The ex finds out that her dad is still in hospital. We collapse on the sofa. "What a fucking nightmare," we both say at just about the same time. The boy looks at us as if we are mad and shouts out: "But that was the best holiday EVER!" Kids are weird, man!

Car trouble 5 - car being stolen and insurance not paying out until it has been missing for 28 days. On day 28, I find it a few streets away and decide to say nothing - well, it was a right fucking wreck!

*Adam and the Ants - reminds me, must download Kings of the Wild Frontier, totally classic album!


Sunday, January 14, 2007

Times Like These*

"Dad, eggs just fell out of nowhere," the boy has just shouted to me. Dad goes into kitchen to find four eggs smashed on the floor with boy standing at fridge with fridge door open. "What happened," Dad asks. "They just fell," is the reply. "But what were they doing there? I left them on the table," I say. "Yes, but I put them on top of the fridge," he says. Ahhh, we are getting somewhere now, I'm thinking. "So you didn't put them on top of the fridge properly, then." Amazingly he comes back with: "Yes I did. Will you just clean it up and stop saying stupid things." Huge argument ensued and I did all I could not to kick him up the arse. My boy can be a right fucking wee toe-rag at times.

And back to nice things ... just spent a lovely couple of days with JJ celebrating the fact that we met each other a year ago. Funny how things work out. There we were, flirting with each other at our blogs, fancying each other like made, hoping that the impossible would be possible, her saying that she would like to meet up for a drink, me not taking that rather overt hint, her saying again that she'd like us to meet up, me oblivious again to that rather more than overt hint, she saying "for fuck sake, can't you take a hint" and me going: "Right, so when you say you'd like to meet, then that means that you'd like to meet?" It's been a wonderful year and we shall have many more wonderful years.

Right now, just before I go and give my boy a right fucking kicking, I'm off down the boozer to watch Celtic, captained by ex-Jambo Steven Pressley, take on Hearts. Oh, wonder who will win?

* Foo Fighters

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Monday, January 08, 2007

Lurgee *

I realised I had a problem with my throat on Friday morning when I visited my former home and opening my mouth to speak to the ex and a weird gruff noise was all that was heard. A drink of water and a clearing of the larynx then made me realise that all was not well in the throat and chest of Reidski. So I felt a bit poorly on Friday, but, being the wee soldier (as my maw would have put it) that I am, I carried on. My only worry was the danger of passing on the bug to JJ when she picked me up from work on Saturday afternoon. So far, so good on that one - and here's hoping. Did I warn her? Well, the paper bag over my head, the warning signs on the front door and pushing her into the spare bedroom were a sure sign, I would have thought. Anyway, I'm sure the minestrone, lime and coriander chicken with potatoes dauphinoise and all those nibbles which I provided were a little consolation if she does succumb. But, then again, she already paid me back for that cooking by bringing down As Good As It Gets, with Jack Nicholson on top form, to watch afterwards.

I then had a good laugh listening to the latest implosion of the forces of darkness yesterday. But my mood on that subject is changing quite a bit, because, what was fun and laughter last week has now become a big huge negative for the Scotland side. Smith and McCoist, along with Tommy Burns, had been doing a great job for the national side and have them in a terrific position in the 2008 European Championship qualifiers. But now the mess from the Govan scum has led Smith to revert to his sectarian and bigoted first love - hope it's a fucking disaster for both him and the huns.

Larsson played a blinder for Manure yesterday in what turned out to be a very tedious affair. So tedious that I even started reading the Saturday Guardian midway through the second half - yes, I know, THAT TEDIOUS! But Henrik's movement, his deft little touches, his passes to Rooney and his goal, were all superb. Funny that the English commentators now think he's a great player cos he's in England but he was only mediocre and untried when he was banging them in for Celtic all over Europe and for Sweden all over the world!

Been listening to Neko Case tonight and been mightily impressed - sounds like a lovely voice she has and nice music to back her. More on that at a later date when I give it more than one listen.

I'm sure I was going to write about something else when I came on here tonight, but can't remember now, so fuck it! For better and more interesting random thoughts, go to Inveresk Street tonight, where Darren has some crackers - I liked his "what was I thinking" comment on listening to Maximo Park a few months back!



Sunday, January 07, 2007

Disgracelands *

Half-time at Old Trafford and a quick pop in to blogworld. And what do I find? That someone hit on my blog after an Altavista search of "how big is a teenage penis".

I'm worried. I'm very worried!

* Therapy


My My, Hey Hey *

John, from Counago & Spaves, wanted a link from me from the New York Times. I dread to think what he intends to do with it, but here it is nevertheless.

Btw, if anyone else wants to read about how you can learn all sorts of stuff while sleeping - I kid you not! - then I would recommend it. For those who aren't that bothered about reading stuff on how you can learn to "overcome fear of clowns" or "master the bagpipes" while sleeping, then I wouldn't bother.

I'll return later to write about how JJ and I had a great time last night. I may also return to talk about the forces of darkness - as I write they are desparately pressing for an equaliser after having been 3-0 down to Dunfermline.

So, I'll listen to the rest of the match and then settle down to watch Villa v ManU, which I may also return to discuss.

*Neil Young and Crazy Horse


Saturday, January 06, 2007

You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet *

A potential runner in the Tory mayoral candidate's race says:

"On a daily basis I get angry about the state of the country, the nanny state and the way things are going."

He's such a political heavyweight. You don't know who it is? Look here! The thought that he will take on Ken is laughable as Ken, although a tosser, will hopefully make mincemeat out of him.

While I'm on the subject, I fucking hate those tossers who go on about "the nanny state" and all that pish. What they really mean is that no-one should have free access to health or education and that (the already tiny) benefits which are given to the infirm and the unemployed should stop. Fucking wanker!

*Bachman-Turner Overdrive - get the reference?


Back to Work *

I may have mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I wasn't due to return to work after the holidays until Monday 8th January, well...

Chatting to JJ last week about our plans and happened to mention that I was working on the first Saturday after my return to work. "What," she asks, "the 13th?" And then it hit me like a bullet between the eyes that, no, I wasn't returning to work on the 8th but, rather, back on Saturday 6th as I had put myself down to do the Saturday rota first weekend of the year. So, here I am, earlier than expected, back at work.

And how did I end my break, was it with the planned trips to galleries, museums and an early return to the gym? Nah, I've been lounging about doing not much this week. Except, of course, for a marathon stint at watching the last series of the Sopranos.

And yesterday I did not do much apart from worrying about JJ following this episode.

Although I did manage to make some preparations for tonight's dinner, after which we shall relax in front of the box with a good film and before which we watch Liverpool v Arsenal. Millwall, of course, are already out. After holding Championship side Stoke for around 83 minutes, the Lions then gave away an own goal followed by another. So we'll concentrate on the league from now on.

Yesterday was also the start of me having this, which rendered me speechless - yes, everyone was thankful!

Oh, and I did watch Ugly Betty and found it interesting, but was worried when JJ explained to me that it was a comedy as I didn't laugh once throughout the entire 60 minutes.

And, now? Back to work!

*Barbara Streisand


Friday, January 05, 2007

The Biggest Prize In Sport *

Okay, getting an award from Spiked may not be everyone's idea of a big prize, but check its football writer's end-of-year column.

And I don't agree with him on the Peter Crouch front, he's easily England's best fit striker and has been for the past year.

* 999


Thursday, January 04, 2007

Sea of Tears *

It's just after half eleven, so thought "really should check in to see what's happening with the cricket" and this is what I found:

"England lost two wickets without adding to their overnight score to slump to a feeble 114-7 in Sydney"

This has been the funniest Test series EVER!

*Goldie - yes, I know it's twice in one day I've used that song title, but, come on, I've not had so much fun since Bobby Ewing came back from the dead! Btw, guaranteed that when I go back to look at the BBC cricket story, that more wickets are down!!

UPDATE: They had - 123 for eight!


Death Or Glory *

Check this out!

*The Clash


Sea of Tears *

It gets even better!

But who will now be mad enough to take the job, knowing, as we all must do, that it's top ned Barry Ferguson who is the real boss at Ibrox?

*Goldie - and the tears are from laughing so bloody much


Tuesday, January 02, 2007

I Must Be High *

Well, I must be (high, that is), as I watched Rangers win today and thought it was hilarious. First half was pretty mundane with not a lot happening, then, almost as soon as the whistle blew for the start of the second, everything happened. No exaggeration to say that it was end-to-end fitba, chances galore for both sides, penalty appeals and - best thing about the beautiful game - mass punch up on the field. Okay, I hate football fans fighting each other - fighting for pretty much anything is fucking stupid, but fighting between people on the basis of which colours the people they prefer wear is undeniably pathetic. Fighting among the players, on the other hand, is total entertainment. So thanks to just about every player on the pitch for that one! Rangers quite rightly got a penalty when the 'Well keeper brought down Prso when Prso was about to do fuck all except steer the ball out for a goal kick, so, Smith, you so deserve a boot in the baws for that yin ya pure numpty! Can't believe that Motherwell didn't get the deserved equaliser, but there you go - the 'Tic, after their win against some little team from Ayrshire this afternoon, are still 17 points clear at the top and the league could probably be won by the end of February! And seeing stuff like this gives us hope for the Champions League also!

Btw, I never once thought that I was a saddo as I was the only person in the pub watching the game!

I'm celebrating JJ flying back from her holipops tonight by going down the pub (again) to watch Chelsea v Villa. I still can't bring myself round to wanting ManUre to win the league - I've had a hatred since boyhood for that team, the origin of which I've never worked out - but it would be nice to see Petrov doing something against Chelsea. Villa have been on a truly awful run of late, so we'll see what they can do tonight. In fact, Chelsea haven't been on such a great run themselves, so it could be interesting.



Sweet Sweet *

I'm off down the pub to watch this as it's sure to be a right laugh. Hun fans must really be wondering what the hell has gone wrong this season and many have come round with one answer - Paul le Guen! Talking to some who watch them every week, they suggest that every signing he has made this season has been a disaster, while many of those stalwarts of the team look as if they don't know what they should be doing. The latest decision of the manager to strip Ferguson of the captaincy seems totally barmy, while giving the armband to a player (Gavin Rae) who doesn't feature as a first-team regular and who only last week asked for a transfer seems equally as bizarre. So come on Motherwell, take a great opportunity tae get it right intae thum, as we say in the cold country!

But, before I go a word on the darts final last night. What a cracker! Taylor goes 3-0 up and Barney looks like he will not hit a double if the final lasts a week. But, suddenly, he's on form and they eventually see the scores at five sets all. With the winner being the first player to seven, they then trade a set each. Barney bangs in 180 after 180 and is on a nine-darter twice. Twice he misses out. Taylor meanwhile is deadly on the doubles. They go into a decider and it looks like anyone's title. The winner has to win by two clear legs. Neither player can do this and it goes to six sets all and five legs all, so it's sudden death time and they go for the bull to decide who goes first. Taylor lands in the outer ring and Barney is plum in the centre of the bull. Barney throws well, but Taylor puts in a 180 and we think that's it. But Barney comes back with a 180 of his own and he pulls away for victory. Taylor was gracious and extremely sporting in defeat, while Barney was modest in victory. Two superb players and one brilliant final. Televised sport does not come much better than that. Are you waiting for some ironic quip, cos you're not getting one - I LOVE DARTS!

And finally, what a superb victory for Millwall yesterday, another 4-1 with Byfield scoring a hat-trick. I am now optimistic that they can survive as they now know how to score goals. And, if it wasn't for the downpour at Sixfields on Saturday, that would have been three victories in a row. Yes, Coookie, we done your Kent boys good and proper!!

*Smashing Pumpkins


Monday, January 01, 2007

This Town Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us *

It gets better, funnier and more entertaining with every passing week!

* Sparks