How Do I Get To Kohukohu Mate?

When working at Stan James I learnt three very valuable words that became a mantra in the office (other than the legendary, Get in, yeahhhhh!).
It was all started by my old mucker, ‘The Dragon’, a welsh wizard who knew exactly the correct response to any puzzling question or situation and delivered these three words in the style of Travis Bickle aka the movie Taxi Driver “ You looking at me”? Style.
I was given cause to use these three wise words yesterday when I contacted another old mucker Hugh upon my arrival in New Zealand.
I only learned last week than New Zealand is made up of 3 different islands and not one so you can imagine my naivety in the first place. I contacted Hugh and asked him where he lived and how to get there; his response was,
“Its North mate, Kohukohu, on the Hokianga harbour, just go via Whangarie after Okaihau”. Those Dragon words immediately entered my mind I knew with utmost certainty they were never more appropriate as I spoke them,
“You what mate”?
More of New Zealand later, first to matters that occurred over the last week….

Last week I entered the dormitory after burning myself on the beach to discover all my worldly possessions had gone. It took about 4 seconds for my brain to register that my backpack containing my clothes along with all my valuables had gone. What was one to do in this situation? I had two options, cry or laugh and after another 5 seconds and a slight bottom lip wobble I pissed myself laughing.

Imagine my relief when I was to discover that the backpacking staff had removed my things for safekeeping. Clearly on our dorm door it states that gear mustn’t be left on the floor when the cleaners come in or all items will be removed and a $10 fine will be imposed for reclaiming stuff, never have I been so happy to pay a fine.

A whole week in a hostel and I am still learning some valuable lessons. Last week I reminded myself never to go to bed with a terrible pair of under crackers on when sharing a room. This week I would like to add it is very important when going to sleep wearing a fine pair of boxer shorts, always remember to button up the fly or you may wake up being stared at by 3 scared looking Irish girls looking at your semi erect penis. By the looks on their faces all three were so traumatized that I would bet on them all becoming nuns.

My nakedness often has this effect on people


Other than that faux pas it has been a very successful week in my new surroundings. Sadly the Swedish girls moved out on Friday, which was a huge disappointment to my roommates and I. When I was younger I used to fantasize about waking up with 2 semi naked Swedish girls cavorting around in their underwear pillow fighting, who knew that fantasy was to become a reality years later. Emily and Carolina also used me as a fashion consultant, asking which lingerie they should wear and what dress went with what shoes; I took considerable time before answering these questions of course.

It wasn’t just the Swedish girls on the move this week; Superlise and I said our goodbyes as she moved up to Brisbane and I to New Zealand. We had a great laugh together (with the inevitable couple of fights) and I was pleased that in Manly she finally met some friends of her own age and sex; Lauren in particular will live long in the memory. We may meet again somewhere along the way but the aspects of our personality that we share is our unpredictable nature and an aversion to budgeting so who knows. I’d only left her 10 minutes before I received texts telling me she had broken her ankle and was getting a tattoo; I think she’s coping without me.

I had a crack at a couple of ladies this week with mixed results. A Chinese masseuse proved to be a great laugh and an excellent companion over dinner, sadly though she was just under my minimum age requirement of 28 (I cannot date or fraternise with any women younger than my sister). Lady number 2 did pass the age factor but within 5 minutes I realised I had started a charm offence on an absolute fucking nutter. I normally protect and love a pint like a Mother would her child but in this case I abandoned my pint without even a goodbye, that’s how mental she was.

As many readers have guessed the Spillanester isn’t adverse to a lady on the large side and last week I chanced upon the biggest sexiest lady ever, Queen Elizabeth the Second arrived in Sydney Harbour and took the place by storm. Everyone was equally fascinated to see her arrival and departure, Superlise took abut 50 million pictures which wasn’t anywhere near enough in my opinion, she may have a few miles on the clock but she’s still got it. What a proud moment to be British when she came into town strutting her stuff and showing Sydney what she’s made of.

A truly spectacular moment, momentous to have been here for it.

And so to New Zealand. I had a few reasons for coming, I had to renew my tourist visa for Australia and leaving the country was one way to do it.
Secondly this weekend is the huge Gay Mardi Grai in Sydney and to be honest I just didn’t really fancy it. Please don’t think I’m homophobic; some of my best friends know gays.
Lastly and most importantly I have two really good friends that live here. Hugh was a mate of mine I employed and sacked many moons ago and our friendship lasted even that little hiccup.
Sarah I was engaged to many moons ago and she has now married and had a little son, Daniel. I met up with Sarah yesterday, which was a little weird at first, but probably not as weird for me as it was for her husband Ade as he saw me saunter up his lawn with his wife yesterday afternoon. As expected we all got on famously well and in fact Ade and I are to see the Auckland Blues play the Highlanders at Eden Park in the Super 14 match on Friday night. He’s also given me some great tips of things to see and do here which makes me think already I may have to extend from the original 2-week booking I have made.

Theres plenty to see here.

I am also meeting another Auntie who like me is holidaying in New Zealand. We both lived in London for years and hardly saw each other, now Auntie Maura and I are meeting in an Auckland bar tomorrow lunchtime. It reminded me of when I was playing poker, you would travel 5,000miles all over the world to play in a tournament only to be knocked out by the bloke you shared a flat with.

Hurrah for my two favourite sporting teams: the Irish Rugby Union team (the only sport in which I cheer Ireland over England) and the mighty Blues who were both victorious this weekend. All my family are Irish which helps explain why I support Ireland and I was born in Hammersmith but wasn’t daft enough to be a QPR fan which explains my Chelsea support.
Sadly I only saw the highlights of the rugby but I got to watch all of the footy and what a game that was. Goals, dodgy decisions, players being knocked unconscious and a massive punch up, all this and Ashley Cole wasn’t even on the field!
My mate Steve made me chuckle when I asked him why Mourinho and Abramovich had fallen out, here’s his response’

Mourinho`s moaning about not being able to sign a centre back. The Russian says he’s spent enough already, & why did he get rid of the best defender in premiership to one of their rivals!
Not to worry though you won’t miss Mourinho when he’s gone, there not silly at Chelsea, I’m sure they have a new quality manager lined up.

Steve

P.S BREAKING NEWS: Peter Kenyon seen meeting in a West London Hotel with David O’Leary!

Auckland at night

"there's a smell in here that will outlast religion"

Manly and the beach, we live a 10 second walk from the sea.


It had to happen eventually. After reviewing my finances it became clear that if I was to continue this trip (and being a work shy freeloader that I am I most defiantly want to); staying in penthouse luxury apartments and eating in Australia’s finest and most expensive restaurants was not really the way forward.
The last week was filled with sightseeing and relaxing before the big move, the move to the hostel, more about later.

The week begun with a good old fashion scrap and it didn’t even involve me; Superlise was the cause of the furore. We were wandering around Darling Harbour when I decided I wanted to take a look in the exhibition centre. Sportingly Superlise decided to join me and was rewarded when the first sign we saw said in huge letters ‘SHOE EXPO’. If you have ever been with a young lady in these circumstances you will know what it’s like and just how terrifying it can be. She was like a Rottweiler puppy being taken for a walk on a lead for the first time and she nearly pulled my arms out of my sockets dragging me to the expo. She could barley speak when she got to the entrance such was her excitement. The first and only question she managed was
“how much is it to get in?”
“Free” was the response
With that she hurtled towards the entrance as the security shouted after her that
“You have to work in the shoe industry to go in there though”.
As we were both in shorts, tee-shirts and flip flops it was obvious that we were not indeed working in the shoe industry (unless we could have convinced them we worked in a sweat shop in China).
With this Superlise spun round and weighed up her options, she quickly decided to make a run for it.
I thought it a good contest, 2 security guards ran after her and after a quick run around one of them managed to rugby tackle her just before the door; she didn’t give up though and clung onto the door shouting
“Let me in pleasssseeeeeeeeeee. Enough was enough and the three of us finally managed to prise her fingers away from the door and carry her kicking and screaming carcass to the exit, it took her a few hours to get over that and was only bought back to her senses with a good old fashioned piss-up.

Next up was a rugby league game. The foundation cup is in its second year but despite its fancy title it’s really just a pre season warm up match between the Sydney Roosters and the West Coast Tigers (WCT) at the Aussie Stadium, next door to the SCG and home to the Roosters. I was surprised at the 17,000 fans that turned up but we were all marvellously rewarded early on when the announcer came on and shouted
“Ok guys now its time for the cheerleader dance off”,
never have I heard such a beautiful sentence. The Roosters girls came out first, were soon followed by the Tigers girls and they were all then followed by the star of the show and of the night.
If you have seen the film Jurassic Park you will remember the scene when the dinosaur first makes its presence felt. There is a cup of water on the dashboard of a truck and its vibrations indicate something very big and very close is near. Much the same happened to my pint of VB. Both sets of girls had already begun dancing but by now everyone in the stadium had become aware of the thuds getting louder and louder and then she entered the arena.
Quite simply the largest cheerleader in the world entered the ground marching out with a huge smile and even bigger thighs; she put Mark Hughes to shame.

Not only was she large, she had on the tightest outfit of any of the WCT girls (her team) which made what she did next even more incredible. She started, back flips, cartwheels, handstands, backwards, forwards, sideways, whatever. No one could quite believe it. I promise the 17,000 fans were pissing themselves, not at her but with her.
Everyone cheered every jump until the inevitable diaster struck and she crashed into the turf attempting one back flip to many and poleaxing the Roosters mascot in the process (I am not making this up). The other cheerleaders carried on as medical staff rushed out to revive both the dancer and mascot and the stadium staff had time to fill in the pot holes she had left all over the pitch.
Fair play to the WCT team, they came out and helped lift her into the tunnel, the applause and cheers still ringing around the stadium for her. The other cheerleaders took there seats, just in front of Superlise and I as it happened, it was lucky Lise had a digital camera because I took about 300 shots of them.
As we had entered the arena we had got chatting to one supporter who explained that the Roosters were Sydney’s wealthy side and that the WCT represented the working class; that immediately settled who we would both cheer for.
I had attempted to explain the rules and what would happen before hand but as any bloke knows taking a girl to a league match for the first time will always illicit the same response. After the very first tackle Lise’s chin dropped and she shouted,
“Get off him, that’s hurting him”.
Every bloke around me smiled sagely, understanding that no matter what you say, most women will never understand it. Things changed in this case surprisingly quickly though, once she realised it was her team (the Posh ones) doing the tackling it all became,
“Smash his head in!” “Kick him in the head” “Knee him in the face!”
I’m not sure the parents of the kids who sat in front of us were all to impressed but the linesman was, he kept turning around from the game wanting to get a glimpse of a posh sounding English bird screaming
“Smash him”
every time one of my chaps got the ball.

Sunday saw us visit the Olympic stadium/village and we were both blown away with the size, design and overall feel of the place.





This women provided me with one of my top 3 olympic moments, they showed us video's at the stadium and i still get goosebumps now watching it.


Australians don’t fuck about when it comes to sport and in my opinion they should hold all major sporting events forever. Not only do they seem to knock up stadiums in 5 minutes (unless the English are paying for it of course) they also have a nation besotted by sport.
This of course leads me in nicely to what the reaction is here to their one day cricket team who had been favourites for the world cup and seeded world number 1 until Sunday when New Zealand inflicted their fourth straight defeat on them (and their fifth last night), never have I seen a species of people so utterly despondent. I of course am loving every minute of it and take every opportunity to remind them that if England & NZ can beat them, anyone can which normally invokes the reaction I seek most, utter fury and despair, hurrah.


Though they are a nation in fear of not winning the world cup this year the Ossies do make a bloody good comedy and ‘Kenny’ is no exception. I would go further than the box which said it’s funnier than ‘the Castle’, Australia’s favourite movie about itself. I would say this film is without doubt the funniest I have seen in years, I had tears in my eyes all the way through it and I jumped, cheered and punched the air at the ending. Kenny works in waste management (shit) at splashdown and the film chronicles his day to day life. Lines such as "there's a smell in here that will outlast religion" and "busier than a one-armed bricklayer in Baghdad made for a great nights viewing. Full of pathos and wit I strongly urge you to rent it when you can, me? I’m buying it.


Rent this film, if you don't like i will refund you the rental money.


To the hostel and I’m in one finally. Last week we had a look around Manly (Action Dave called it the area most like Brighton in the UK) and fell in love with the place immediately. This is surfer paradise without all the crap that goes with Bondi.
I did of course get badly sunburnt on my first full day on the beach but you wouldn’t expect anything less. I am 20 years older that than the next eldest person in the hostel which is different, also the dorm I am in is mixed. I had gone to sleep Monday evening with there being two other blokes in the room, I awoke to find 3 girls had also moved in which made for a few embarrassing moments (note to oneself, do not wear unflattering under crackers to bed again). The first night we both got trolleyed to assist us in going to sleep, you can’t beat a beer anaesthetic.

Finally I read how Manly got its name originally. Apparently the first sailors were confronted by aboriginals who appeared to be ‘Manly’ hence the name. When I got off the ferry and saw the ‘Welcome to Manly’ I wondered what it would have been called had they discovered me here a hundred odd years ago, I came up with ‘Welcome to Salad Dodger’.


Its all very cosy, things could interesting

Hosteling with the Prime Minister

Get In.......Yeahhhhhhhhhhhh

Russell Crowe, Skippy, crocodile Dundee, Mark Viduka, Rolf Harris and the two little boys, Danni Minogue, Kostya Tszyu, Harold from neighbors, your boys took a hell of a beating……………………………

Finally we did it and was it worth the wait? Yes I think it may well have been.
To beat Australia at anything is right up there, to beat them at cricket is better still, to beat them in a one day series with no form, a depleted side and on their patch is almost unbelievable but last Friday evening at the MCG I witnessed an outstanding fight back by England to beat the Aussies that will live long in the memory. Collingwood and Bell gave us a chance, Flintoff ably assisted and Badger helped us home. Salad days indeed. I sang and abused as many Australians as possible without the assistance of one alcoholic beverage (a first at a cricket match) and stayed right till the bitter end, even after the interviews to take pictures etc.


You Beauty!

To make matters even more surreal on Thursday I left our Melbourne apartment to go for a spot of luncheon and walked straight into the England team. They were outside the Hyatt hotel which was next door to our apartment and were waiting to get on the bus to take them training. I did what any English supporter would do and started chatting to them wishing them all the best. Who do you think I was chatting to? Give yourself a pat on the back if you said Paul Collingwood and Paul Nixon, bizarre.
The chaps even managed to seal the deal with another outstanding performance here in Sydney which has left every Aussie (according to the media) stunned. Apparently their world cup preparations are now in tatters and they may as well not bother going though I still wouldn’t bet against them. I of course was suitably gutted I didn’t bet England but 4’s from 6’s was not enough for me. Its been a long slog following England since Perth but finally I got my reward; all I need to do now is come back in 4 years to see us retain the ashes (yes retain not regain, come on England!)

Although I didn’t drink at the cricket that was only because I was suffering badly from the night before, the twenty something birthday of Superlise. It began as all good birthdays do, with champagne. We drank opened a bottle in the morning, finished it at lunchtime and got cracking into another one before heading off to Tim Henman’s favorite restaurant, Koko’s. Koko’s is a Japanese restaurant in the crown casino and also in attendance were Action, Amanda and Rafee. The meal began with champagne obviously followed by just about every type of seafood imaginable. There was also room for Kobe steak, chicken, red wine white wine and a chocolate birthday cake.



Koko's


After dinner it was time for super sized cocktails, the ones where you all get a straw and ‘ice cream head’ from drinking the icy slush too quickly. After these we headed back to Rafee’s flat where we were greeted by the widest man I have ever met. Sheriff is not only Rafee’s flat mate he’s also an ex Mr. Australia, I didn’t offer him an arm wrestle. Next to turn up was a nice lad called Tony who looked like the sort of bloke ubiquitous around poker rooms these days, a bit gaunt and red eyed but like I said a top fella. Action suggested a quick satellite and he must have known something because he proceeded to clean up. During the game it became obvious that Tony was none other than Tony Hatchem, brother of ex WSOP champion Joe and he kindly regaled us with stories about Joe’s victory and the parties afterwards. By 6am Superlise decided she could drink no more (until we got home anyway) and we retired after an exhausting day.


Tony, one of the good guys


To assist in paying for all these wonderful though expensive exploits on Wednesday I had happened to find myself in one of the easiest games of poker I have ever played in. 4 card Omaha is not only my favorite game it’s a game I think I can play reasonably well, having said that you only had to be able to count to ten in this game to win. For example in one hand by the time the last card was rivered I had the best possible hand, the nuts as its known. With 4 other players in the pot I had to think how much to bet in order to get called by 1 non believer. There was approx 300 dollars in the middle, after a while I decided to bet 250, it went pass call call. When I turned over my hand the two players who had called screwed their faces up in shock and both questioned me with the same words, “the nuts?” They simply couldn’t believe it, marvelous stuff.

Saturday night was our last party night and so Action Amanda and Rafee all turned out for a bender I St.Kilda where we hit the club scene with aplomb. Cocktails and various other beverages were consumed which enabled us all to dance till about 8am before some of us hit the beach and some hit the long road home. Sunday night was spent enjoying watching England destroy Australia over a bottle of bubbles.
Sydney was the next port of call. We had decided to ‘hostel’ it in Sydney but on Tuesday of last week it came to my attention that Sydney is in the middle of the city’s ‘Gay Celebrations’. I knew it held a massive parade in March I didn’t realize it all started on the 1st of Feb. Of course as soon as Action Dave found out he had a wail of a time scaring me senseless. “You’ll be sharing a dormitory with 7 Freddie Mercury look-alike’s” etc etc, “Bugger off” I relied, “Sod you” said he and so it continued. By Saturday I was beginning to have reservations about the whole hostel thing, Superlise was too; which may help explain why we decided to rent an apartment which is opposite and overlooking the bridge and the Opera house.



And on the top floor

We have rented an apartment on the little island of Kirribilli which is our next door neighbor is one ‘John Howard’; he is also the Australian prime minister. I’m not going to say how much it is per week; rather it’s more expensive than 2 chastity belts and a hell of a lot more comfortable.
I awoke this morning to the well known picture postcard view and proceeded to have breakfast on the balcony again just staring at the view (all naked btw, Superlise was out and I felt like letting it all hang out). I was in Sydney 4 years ago and every day I was here I went and looked at the bridge and opera house, it’s stunning. Also managed to hop around a few places on the ferries already and managed to get sunburned in the process, honestly 5 fucking minutes here without sun block and your cooked.
Plenty planned for the rest of the week, The Swan kindly emailed me a ‘things to see in Sydney list’ and I also want to take in some sport, cricket at the SCG and a Rugby Union game would be nice but for now I better go, I want to have a word with my new neighbor and see if he can give me any advice on how to extend my visa which runs out in 2 weeks. If he doesn’t help me he better like the Kings of Leon and The Killers because that’s what he will be hearing blaring from our stereo all night long for the rest of the week.

Get In, Yeahhhhhhhh

The magnifcent view, 5 of the 12 apostles.


Get In Yeahhhhhhh!
How I miss hearing those words from the man who could bring a smile to even my face of a morning upon hearing them. It was when i was catching up with Scott in Perth that i was reminded of them.
Brian works on the racing desk of Stan James and I had the pleasure of sitting not too far away from him in the new office in Gibraltar. Twice a day you could be guaranteed to hear these 3 words but my favourite time was on Friday mornings when Brian would stalk the office after having one of his occasional speculative punts on a football outsider and would look for vindication from someone whose view he respected. We all knew he had already had the punt but that didn’t stop him from seeking a supporter and on a couple of happy occasions I was chosen as the guru; the conversation would go something like this.

Brain: Alright Paul, how you doing mate?

Paul: Good thanks mate, what can I do for you

Brain: You seen this Arsenal price, 5-1 to beat Man U away, what u reckon?

Paul: I reckon that’s a big price Brian, I might have a little of that myself

Brain, eyes widening, smile growing and beginning to punch me on the arm: Get In! Yeahhhhh.

Friday will be the last time I watch this current England side on tour in Australia and what a fantastically totally unfitting finale it would be if we beat the Aussies in the ODI final. After a summer labouring to achieve not very much at all we could end the tour with a morale boosting victory just before the world cup.
I watched the ‘Alan Border Medal’ show on channel 9 on Monday night and it’s basically the end of term awards to the great and good of Australian cricket. ‘One big Aussie piss up’ is the alternative phrase one could use.
Even beer and wine soaked though sadly this Aussie team is just to good for us and the 7-2 on offer about an England team who were 13-2 this time last week means Australia are probably worth a bet though to short for me.

The ‘ABM’ show was hilarious, quite often unintentionally so with much ‘filling up’ of Aussie cricketers who were ‘gonna miss me mates’. Langer faired particularly badly but the highlight for me was the closing scenes. Whoever was in charge decided the best way to end the live show was by dragging out some appalling Aussie boy band (even though they were all in their late 30’s) and get them to sing ‘ain’t no mountain high enough’ in the campest manner possible. The looks on the faces of Andrew Symonds and Ricky Pointing were priceless, Vic and Bob couldn’t have parodied it better.


Penguins played a leading part in the last seven days for me. Last week I was persuaded to go to the cinema and watch Happy Feet, a cartoon tale of a penguin that cannot sing but instead dances. We purchased gold class tickets so throughout the movie the four of us could drink wine and eat snacks, which were served throughout by our own waitress. Perhaps it was in poor taste to ask for sushi but it was just what I fancied at the time and the fish in the movie didn’t seem to be getting a great deal to be honest.

As well as penguins we did the Koala bear thing and did the ‘Great Ocean Road’ drive taking in the 12 apostles, if you don’t know what that is google it.
I had to endure one of Superlise’s ‘I told you so’ looks for half of the journey back. On the way I had been admonishing her for her driving speed so it was only fitting I guess that I got pulled over and received a very stern telling off from an officer who was none to impressed with my Michael Schumacher impression, a close shave and lesson learned.

Also this week Superlise and I drove to Phillip Island to watch the daily penguin parade from the sea to their island habitat. I had prepared for the day out by reading up on the evening and wearing suitable clothing. When one thinks of visiting penguins in their natural environment I think its fairly safe to assume its going to be cold. Superlise thought differently, tee-shirts and flip flops were going to be good enough for her and it was only when she saw the preparation video for the evening that she began to worry that I might be right and that she should have come better prepared.



Their cute little things really.



It was a topsy turvey week with Superlise. She found out how difficult it is for a young girl to travel with a sometimes grumpy 40 year old and we had tears for the first time but like I said, she was bound to see me topless eventually. Hopefully we have a better understanding of each other after another week and tomorrow is her 26th birthday so she will obviously be another year older and wiser just like me. Current plans involve attending Tim Henmans favourite Japanese restaurant, dancing and no doubt some crazy scheme or idea that will involve us leaving Melbourne under a very dark cloud, maybe I should have thought more before leaving Action Dave in charge of party organising.


After much stunning scenery it was nice to veg out in front of the wonder that is Australian TV and inform you of 3 things I witnessed.
Firstly a story about a prisoner who escaped from a temporary jail and was being chased by the police. He ran across a small river and into the jaws of a 4 metre long croc that immediately said thank you very much and began the dreaded death roll.
Not to be outdone our intrepid hero manages to poke the croc in eye forcing the croc to releases it’s grip and enable the prisoner to swim back to shore into the handcuffs of the waiting police officers. Now think about that for a moment. What an afternoon this blokes had, escaping from prison, 50-1, jump into a river and the mouth of a croc 10-1, survive attack 500-1 and then swim to shore only to pick the wrong shore, the one with the coppers on and be re-arrested, 1/1. The TV crews were actually interviewing the bloke from his prison hospital bed, he thought he had ‘learned his lesson’.

Secondly another quite brilliant news piece about a young married surfer who had survived a shark attack. He had gone out early for the best waves but this unfortunately coincided with when sharks feed and he himself nearly became breakfast. Cue to bedside of the victim surrounded by his wife and 2 kids when the journalist announces he has a surprise for him. In walks surfers ‘best mate’, the same bloke who pulled him to shore.
It was here I began to wonder if the piece was perhaps a windup and that I was actually watching some Aussie news spoof show but it wasn’t. The surfers eyes lit up, ‘Me best mate’ ‘thanks mate’, ‘that’s Bob, he’s my best mate’…so it went on. The report ended and we went back to the anchorman who thanked the reporter for ‘another current affair’, missed the irony and went straight into another piece.

Lastly a soccer show, which gave me all the background I needed to know on Australian soccer, how developed it is and how much support there is for it. I attended the Telstra dome on Sunday and watched Melbourne Victory beat Adelaide 2-1 in front of 48,000 fans (50,000 capacity), scoring the winner in the 93rd minute. Australians love soccer and as Europeans we better watch out, if this sports mad nation actually get the clue and appoint decent managers/coaches they could catch us sooner than we think. Thankfully our most high profile export is Terry Butcher, disastrously he has proved so incompetent that they have already rumbled washed up ex England players do not necessarily make good mangers (Robson, Keegan and Reid must be gutted).

I have been working on a couple of ideas for jobs when I get back though now I will pay closer attention to the soccer positions here. With my incredible record as manager of the Stan James footy team I may have a chance, come on I have got to be better than Terry Butcher?




50,000 capacity, the roof was open


The Swan may have left but he appears to be causing maximum carnage in Malaysia. Amongst the messages I have received was one informing me of how he bought a crate of beer to a party and only upon arrival realised it was a Muslim party and therefore a dry party. He also was introduced to the maid whom he welcomed with a kiss on the cheek, a big no-no apparently. In this Muslim country a kiss on the cheek is tantamount to a marriage proposal, get in Yeahhhhhhh.