This picture is from the first game of the Championship season between Ipswich and Middlesbrough at the Riverside. Ipswich won 3-1, scoring 3 goals in the second half. It was the 2oth league ground I've visited of the English League's 92 football grounds. Next on the list for this season are Gresty Road, Glanford Park, Vicarage Road, City Ground, Keepmoat Stadium and Loftus Road.

Here's a fun website to have a look at www.doingthe92.co.uk

Next summer I want to try and visit the gates of every single football league ground in the country in 72 hours with my general-up-for-anything mate Rick. Challenge accepted.

I'd rather go see Ipswich on a freezing, snowy January day at Bloomfield Road, not the best place to showcase the delights of football to your girlfriend (this may be a contributing factor to why I'm now single), than anything else.

Check out this new tune from the King Blues. Out on 29th August.

Female Vocals/Male Hip-Hop

B.o.B - Airplanes.



Eminem - Love the way you lie.

Glastonbury 2010.

After months of youtube videos and silly postsecrets, finally some actually reviewing of some music!

Well there's only one place to begin: the biggest festival in the world, Glastonbury Festival 2010 of Contemporary Performing Arts. It was an eagerly awaited weekend, all the more anticipated in light of recent personal events, as it allowed me 4 days of uninterrupted time with my 3 best friends, endless music and entertainment and that special feeling that only 175,000 people in a muddy field trying to use 30 toilets can bring to your psyche. It fact though, this year the field was not muddy, but dusty, it was the warmest weekend of the year so far and I actually made the brave move of leaving my wellies in the car, something which any Glasto veteran would argue was completely insane.

Following a 6am start cruising down the M6, the M5 and finally some A roads in the village of Pilton, me and my lovely travel companion arrived within the festival boundaries without a clue where to park. Eventually we found a spot, which inconveniently also happened to be the furthest parking spot from the festival available. It was closer to Bristol than the Pyramid stage. Anyway, after a good two hours were spent lugging our crates of beer, bags and sleeping bags from the car to the park we could relax, at least in the shade; it had turned out I had, in the first 2 hours of the festival, managed get myself sunburnt. I don't do sexy tans. At one end of my skin colour scale is ghoulish white, the other is beetroot.

That day/night was spent seeing acts such as Ellie Goulding (alrightish) and Florance and the Machine (good enough) before welcoming another of our crew to a smoking Barbeque. It was a great time, beers, clear skies, the five of us. Ah, I was finally experiencing the essence of Glastonbury; what all those hippies rattle on about and what cannot be experienced via pressing the red button; the simplicity in enjoying shared company and with no worries. It felt great to relax and to escape my thoughts and worries from home and from University.

I had no job, I did not know my second year result from Uni, my state of mind was not in the best of shape and I was feeling slightly depressed. It was good to relax and just think of nothing. No pressure, no responsibilities, no guilt, no pain.

Fatboy Slim was epic. The dance field was packed to the rafters and with a carton of 9 litre wine between 5 of us, it was fair to suggest we were all up for a decent time. Norman Cook was on fine form and the crowd wasn't lacking either. A great headliner and a great set.

The next day was spent wishing the world away and not doing a whole lot. An encounter with the old foe, Germany, was awaiting the England team in the World Cup the following day, and singing Three Lions, along with The Lightening Seeds on the Pyramid Stage was enough to stir some national emotion prior to the game. After exploring The Park and Greenfields we returned to the Pyramid Stage for Shakira (incredible), Scissor Sisters (bizarre) and Muse (out-of-this-world).

Sunday was football day. The cross of St. George was waving, England shirts were pulled over torsos and 80,000 supporters descended on a giant TV screen to watch the English beat the Germans. Except it didn't quite happen like that. It could have been the greatest party I'd ever been to, with more people watching the game in a field in Somerset than in the stadium itself. Alas, the players didn't show up, the officials forgot the rules and Heskey didn't score. There's something about football which means that holds you and stirs emotions which I'm previously unaware of. It is the only thing I've ever found in my life which will always be there. My love for football is probably the strongest emotion I will ever feel. It sounds sad in some respects, but my love for other things in recent times has failed to return any profit. Win or lose, in football there is always the next game, next season, some hope and eventual triumph. Stevie Wonder, Faithless and Jack Johnson followed in the evening. It softened the blow of England's exit to some extent, but it still hurt.

4 days with my 3 best friends, did me the world of good. I'm beginning to work things out, move on. Time (and Glastonbury) heals. They'll always be there for me and always respect and love me, for who I am and not who I try to be. That is a reassuring thought.

Summer '10

Between folding headrests for airplanes, serving Carlsberg and going South on the M6.



Example - Kickstarts



Yolanda Be Cool & DCUP - We No Speak Americano

Cover.

It's a very simple idea. One ball, two goals and twenty-two men. At least that's the theory. In practice, countless backroom staff, thousands of fans in the stadium, hundreds of cooperate guests, I refuse to label them as "fans", and millions watching on TV are also involved. And of course crucially, five officials, made up of one referee, two assistants, a fourth official and a fifth as back-up. England not so much crashed, but faded timidly out of the World Cup yesterday. It could of all been so different. If one of the four active officials had seen Frank Lampard's 39th minute lob rebound off the crossbar, spin a good 2 feet behind the line, and then finally back into the Neuer's arms. Goal given. 2-2. England are still in the World Cup.

England were beaten by Germany's youngest ever World Cup squad in the post war era. Since 1990, England's record at major championships reads as follows.

Italia '90 - Semi Finals

Sweden '92 - Group Stages

USA '94 - Did not qualify

England '96 - Semi Finals

France '98 - Second Round

Belgium/Netherlands '00 - Group Stage

Japan/South Korea '02 - Quarter Finals

Portugal '04 - Quarter Finals

Germany '06 - Quarter Finals

Austria/Switzerland '08 - Did not qualify

South Africa '10 - Second Round.

"History will be kind [for me], for I intend to write it" - not so here.

The history books will show that England's most successful period in the modern era was between 2002 and 2006 under the laissez faire guise of the Swede, Sven Goran-Eriksson, where the national team reached the last eight in three successive tournaments. In reality the only teams England beat at these tournaments were Argentina (the only goal coming from a David Beckham penalty), Denmark, Switzerland, Croatia, Trinidad and Tobago, Paraguay (again by a single goal from a David Beckham set-piece) and Ecuador (another 1-0, and the goal from a David Beckham free kick). This record this not reflect the assumption that England are a force at international level. In Italia '90, the most successful foreign campaign at international level by the England, all three of England's knock out games went to extra time, David Platt scored a 119th minute winner from a set piece against Beligum and they needed 2 Gary Linekar penalties to beat Cameroon in the quarter finals. England's international record is not good, in fact in is awful. The last time England defeated an international powerhouse in knock out football in open play was against West Germany, July 30th, 1966. Subjective I know, but consider that in the knock out stages of major tournaments since that World Cup, England have defeated Ecuador, Denmark, Spain (on penalties), Cameroon, Belgium, Paraguay, West Germany (after extra time), Portugal, Argentina. Eight teams, three in 1966. For a country behind only Brazil and Germany in terms of percentage of registered footballers by population, this is completely awful. Compare this record to those of Brazil and Germany in the last 20 years, with eight World Cups between them and both still looking lively in South Africa. Chile, Ghana, Germany, Turkey, England, Belgium, Netherlands, Denmark, Chile, Italy, Sweden, Netherlands and the USA have all fallen to the might of Brazil, since 1990. England, Turkey, Portugal, Argentina, Sweden, South Korea, USA, Paraguay, Mexico, Czech Republic, England, Croatia, Belgium, Sweden, Argentina, England, Czechoslovakia, Netherlands have all fallen to the Germans, again since 1990. Impressive.

The Premier League is frequently cited as the "best league in the world" (copyright). In reality, it is the most profitable and most marketed, with huge audiences from Shanghai to Seattle. Foreign buyers from the wealth hotspots of the world invest and seek success, with no regard for the state of the game at a local level. And this is allowed to happen. I'm not saying that if this is stopped, England will win the World Cup, but the emphasis in England is on one thing: money. The emphasis should be another one thing and one thing only: football. Football for football's sake. For the fans, for the game, for the national team, for pride, for enjoyment. For that feeling when a team scores right at the death, against all odds and the emotions and feelings that brings to every single person who has limited appreciation for the game. For the fact that football united both German and Allied forces during the war. So for the once, the war and imperialist metaphors may actually be useful when discussing English and German football.

Germany do not cater their domestic league to foreign interests. Chinese advertisement hoardings are not regularly featured at the Allianz Arena or the Westfalenstadion. Clubs must be owned by a majority shareholder to ensure financial stability. In 2009-10 the Bundesliga had the highest goal and attendance averages in Europe. The league is not branded anywhere near to the extent of the Premier League, but the league also made more profit last season. Then again, the argument that it's not all about money comes into play, true and it is largely regarded that the Bundesliga is more competitive than English football, in contrast to Bayern's double last year.

This game isn't just a game. It's an art and it's warfare combined. It's technical and illogical. It's unfounded, complete outpouring of passion bridled with intelligence and canning. And every 2 years England goes completely nuts for football. Flags adorn churches, car windows and town halls. Crates of beer feature the faces of the national team (even if they're not in the squad, Theo Walcott/Carlsberg) and replica shirts are worn by everyone and anyone. Expectation increases. "This could be our year" It unites the nation. Everyone is backing the team, millions cram round the TV to see if our boys can finally do it. And yes!! England have done it!! They've beaten Slovenia, a country with 400 professional footballers!(!) This could be our year!!

In defeat we are further united, hours upon hours of TV and radio time are devoted to Glen in Leicester and why he thinks we should have played 3-5-2 or Caroline, a Grimsby fan from Swindon who just thinks they're all a bunch of overpaid prima donnas. Hundreds of journalists in thousands of column inches will slate the players and ask where the lion spirit and passion was when it was needed most, (and bloggers whose opinions will be seen by null are desperately to search for an answer.) This is more than a game.

Which is why the FA decided to hire Mr Fix-it. For £6million a year, to bring the World Cup home to England. Open top bus parades around London, ticker tape coating the countries streets. Something for the English to cheer. To give us some hope, and kick start the economy. To make believe that England is in-fact great and not a bit-part world leader whose powerful empire days are forgone. What the FA failed to understand is that England, just aren't very good at football. The players are brilliant. Terry, Lampard, Gerrard and Rooney. But England, aren't.

"And all you can do is just wait by the moon, and bleed if it's what she says..."

2 years ago, nearly to the day, I boarded a flight from Nadi, Fiji, a place which few people have knowledge of, to Los Angeles, USA, a city which undoubtedly a great deal more people have heard of.

Our plan for California was to somehow visit Los Angeles, San Diego, Lake Tahoe, Santa Cruz and two weeks later fly out of San Francisco. Whether this was by car, bus or train none of us knew. We landed to LA, possibly the most unfriendly backpacker city ever, at 2pm with no accommodation. Nevertheless we managed to find a hostel within a reasonable walking distance from Boulevards Sunset and Hollywood. We decided to rent a car and drive down to San Diego and stay with my family just outside the city in Escondido, then drive 10 hours North to Lake Tahoe, before finally driving down the I-80, over the Oakland Bay Bridge to San Francisco. We were greeted on our arrival by a fantastic panoramic view of the silhouetted skyline and Golden Gate Bridge, set against the perfect backdrop of a California sunset. Yet again we had no accommodation and no agenda.

These were probably the happiest two weeks of my life. A car, my four best mates, no agenda, endless roads and freedom. No-one can ever take away from me. I have since then changed, but I will come back. I will be that happy again.

The world can't change who I am or how I feel. Deep down, no-one ever really changes. Thanks for the memories.