Palate Cleanser from McG

 

I’ve taken the liberty of posting McG’s comment as a starter for ten. I hope that’s alright.

So who thinks Dembele shouldn’t start vs dips? I think playing Sanchez & not Dier was the major issue on Sunday. He’s a big game player & does raise his game. I’d like to see some more of winks, but not until he’s fully up to speed, & against some lesser sides first. Dembele to start against dips for me, should be nicely rested too.

Harry Hotspur’s ‘Big Reveal’!

I:’m calling this piece ‘A’ Big Reveal because it isn’t ‘The’ Big Reveal many of us have been threatened and/or promised with for several weeks now.
The privilege of making the ‘Big Reveal’ belongs to Harry ‘The Boy’ Hotspur. I say ‘Big Reveal’ but the threat of exposure which started out as a ‘Big Reveal’, was recently downgraded to ‘more of a humiliation than a reveal’ (something about me and a mate of mine having small willies), and is now (if Harry Hotspur’s dismissive response to recent ‘reveal’ is anything to go by) not even a humiliation, but just something very, very funny. Stick around for a bit longer and you may be lucky enough to witness Harry Hotspur open an old jam jar and release a one of my old farts into the atmosphere.
Those of you unlucky enough to have actually been caught up in the crossfire of this (presumably, ongoing (if Harry Hotspur’s dismissive response to recent ‘reveal’ is anything to go by)) unseemly dispute ostensibly between Flat Oeuf, Fat Bertha and The Boy will have been sent an email explaining ‘everything’ with ‘evidence’ about the ‘dispute’.
Before I go any further I will say this: has acted with patience, dignity and down-right decency throughout, in the face of sometimes extreme provocation, and I really hope Harry Hotspur will now leave him alone to enjoy growing The Flat Oeuf Society.
I will also say that I’m ashamed that I did not stand up for in anything like the way I should have. I mean that. Genuinely ashamed. It was cowardice on my part.
I have invited Harry Hotspur on a number of occasions to (do us all a favour and) make his ‘Big Reveal’, even on this site. I opened up the comments section to him. He posted under about four different screen names (verifiable) even though the comments were opened up to him. Guess what he said? Well, suffice to say it wasn’t the ‘Big Reveal’.
I announced on theboyhotspur.com that I’d be taking the summer off commenting there, simply because I couldn’t face another summer of the kind of ugly sh*t commenting that had become commonplace. For good form I emailed Harry Hotspur with the same message. He replied in a perfectly friendly and mildly humorous manner (verifiable). I fully intended to go back when the new season had begun.
In the meantime, started a new blog for the original small group of TBH posters who had met and made friends. I was invited on as an admin (yes, me!). I stepped aboard the good ship Flat Oeuf but didn’t actually ‘leave’ TBH.
When our new home was leaked to Harry Hotspur, for leaked it was, his public abuse of us began in earnest. Who remembers his exhortation to any dissenter from his personal views to “… join these cunts … “, or his allowing to stand on his blog a comment made by Aussi in Switzerland to the affect that we were paedophiles? Both of these are verifiable by screenshots taken at the time.
Of course, these tactics backfired and more of ‘his’ crowd joined ‘us’. Huzzah! People aren’t stupid you know. Bring the publicity on!
As you know, and as we counselled, if you were caught posting here your days were numbered there. Furthermore some of you now posting here were targeted by Harry Hotspur and promised the ‘Big Reveal’.
Ah, the ‘Big Reveal’. Once upon a time it was a reveal about the lying and duplicitous Fatty and Flatty. Now it seems to be something “very, very funny” about just me! That’s if Harry Hotspur’s dismissive response to a certain other persons own recent ‘reveal’ is anything to go by.
Yes. That’s right. Even after yesterday’s free, frank and fearless ‘reveal’ by Flatty, which should have put this whole nonsense to bed, Harry Hotspur is *still* threatening to expose me!
So, brace yourselves, here goes for A Big Reveal: On the morning of the 15 July 2018 I received an email from Harry Hotspur demanding that I take down a Twitter account which he said was parodying him. Further, he informed me that my DAD would be suspended from TBH until I did so (all verifiable). I had no idea what he was talking about: NONE.
15 July is me skin and blisters birthday and this year (serendipitously) me farver would be in the UK to celebrate it with us. Yay! I told him the news. He wasn’t angry, he was just very, very disappointed.
As it happens, there was a parody account on Twitter. One of the other admins (not Flatty) had to show me what Harry Hotspur was ranting about (verifiable). I sniggered a bit and said whoever put it up DON’T take it down (verifiable). In fact, you may assume that, unless otherwise stated, everything I claim here is verifiable.
So, not knowing anything about this Twitter parody account and thinking whoda funk is this guy to tell me what to do AND drag me innocent ol’ farver into things? I decided to see how easy it would be set a parody account up. It’s very easy. Here’s mine Twitter.com/TheBoyHotspurr. From the moment I set it up on 15 July it has sat there unused and forlorn. I though, let me prick his pomposity a bit, he can’t demand things of me about which I have no knowledge: how dare he?
Unbeknownst to me the owner of the ‘other’ parody account ‘group followed’ Harry Hotspur’s Twitter contacts and wholly inadvertently and completely innocently ‘followed’ Harry Hotspur’s wife and it had understandably put the willies up him. Neither of nor I had any idea that this had happened.
I KNOW action was an innocent mistake because I pointed it out to him and I had his reaction first-hand.
When Harry Hotspur made his initial demands to me about the Twitter account I had no connection with and had the gall to draw me farver into things, and after I set up the new parody account, I decided to have a scootch about the t’internet and see if I could discover ‘anything’ about this obnoxious and largely anonymous, threat-making chap.
Well, I could. It’s actually very easy to find out stuff about people without using any special software, machines or subterfuge of any kind, and without spending any money. EVERYTHING I ‘found’ is in the public domain and entirely accessible to any interested party.
I spoke to the other admins and told them what I’d found, including that I’d found a name which probably belonged to Harry Hotspurs wife/partner, but that I would not divulge any of it to anyone, although we refused to take down the Twitters. We all agreed that we would not resort to dragging third parties into any dispute we had. Remember, no-one knew at this point what is was that had so upset him.
Then Harry Hotspur chose to escalate his threats to me culminating in a threat to ‘expose’ my ‘dark behaviour’ to my employer if I didn’t take the Twitters down. So, in true Churchilian spirit and with the words of the Rev Ian Paisley’s “Never, never, never… “ resounding in my soul I redoubled my efforts to see behind Harry Hotspur’s wall of anonymity.
Late last Sunday night it occurred to me that, as I now had a Twitter account, I could scootch about on there for stuff. So I looked for the name that I’d earlier found and guess what I discovered? Only that Rupert’s parody account was ‘following’ Harry Hotspur’s wife’s Twitter.
My Twitter follows , and vice versa. Apparently when you look at someone’s Twitter and you have contacts in common an indication of this is shown on one’s screen
Well, I nearly shat my pance! Both Twitters have almost exactly the same avatars, so when I first saw what I thought was my Twitter following Harry Hotspur’s wife I thought I’d clicked a wrong button or done something stupid I wasn’t aware of. Of course, it wasn’t my Twitter, it was !
I contacted and asked how he’d found and followed Harry Hotspur’s wife’s Twitter. He was bemused and oblivious as to what he’d done.
I was in stitches. Oh, the wicked irony. What had Harry Hotspur brought upon himself?! Actually, nothing, because neither the Fat one or the Flat one would ever have targeted this individual: NEVER! That ain’t how we roll, baby. But, oh! what did Harry Hotspur *think* he’d brought on himself? Well, what ever he did think wouldn’t have lasted long because as soon as realised what had happened he ‘unfollowed’ Harry Hotspur ‘s wife and subsequently wrote to Harry Hotspur extending an apology to his wife for the genuine mistake and any upset it had caused.
He’s a class act that .
Both parody accounts, albeit largely unused, are still ‘up’.
So, Harry Hotspur dragged me farver into a dispute about which me farver knew nothing and carried out an abusive vendetta against me over a Twitter account I initially had no knowledge of and at no time had any control over.
None of the above has anything to do with the campaign of abuse Harry Hotspur has waged against . It is simply my entirely verifiable account of the last few weeks I’ve spent caught up in Harry Hotspur’s madness.
The ‘Big Reveal’, my ‘dark behaviour’, I suspect, is that Harry Hotspur thinks I targeted his wife on Twitter! When actually, my knowing his wife’s name has/should have brought all of this nonsense to a conclusion!
I’ve no idea whether or not he carried out his threats, probably not. I’ve spoken to the police who will take a statement from me if I wish to make one. I don’t at the moment. I’m hoping he’ll fade away and let us all get on with the fun we’re having on THE FLAT OEUF!

 

 

I’ve Lost That World Cup Feeling

Those of you whom have had the misfortune of reading any of the inane and largely pointless drivel I have inflicted upon the faithful readership of this and the ‘other place’ over the years may know two things about me:

① I’ve no interest in football, generally (outside of Spurs); and

② I’ve no interest in the World Cup (Internationals), particularly.

These statements are an accurate representation of my current position viz the beautiful game. But it wasn’t always like this. There was a time when the game of football held me in its thrall.

As we are in the middle of a World Cup finals right now, I will push club football to the side and share some of my memories of World Cups gone by.

I’m 48 years of age, which means that, including this WC, there have been twelve WC finals during my life-time (so far). Of these twelve only three have meant anything to me: ’82, ’86 and ’98.

Spain ’82 and Mexico ’86 occurred when I was at the height of my own playing powers; yes, that’s right, I peaked between the ages of 11 and 16. I completed missed Italia ’90 due to raves and bags of little white pills. By USA ’94 my life had changed beyond recognition and I was officially disconnected from the game. I rallied briefly for France ’98 but, alas, my love for the game was dead.

The truth is, I couldn’t tell you who the WC winners were, even in those years that I was engaged, but what I do remember, and this is the point of my post, are the myths and legends of the footballing demigods who graced the game with their outrageous skill and seemingly supernatural ability.

I was a little too young to appreciate the ’78 WC first hand, but I still remember the excitment I felt when I read about the Daniel Passarella and Mario Kempes WC final goal against the Dutch. Legends.

In ’82 I watched some of the games on our family’s first colour TV. Dad bought it from a neighbor ad it was already on the way out. The tube was shot so every game looked like it was played on Mars.

’82 was all about Brazil: Zico, Socrates, Eder, Falcao et al. Zico’s bicycle kick was something I practiced and practised and something I longed to do in a game. Watching that Brazil side play, and for me, Socrates’ slide rule passing filled me to bursting with excitement.

That side were beaten by Italy and Paolo Rossi, who had just returned from a ban for match fixing (?) and who went on to score six goals and win the Golden Boot.

’86 was all about Maradona, of course. And then there was Platini …

’98, for me, was Brazil’s Dunga, and France’s Zidane. I haven’t forgotten Ronaldo …

I’m tailing off as the weight of my Chinese meal begins to take effect and my interest wains…

No doubt there are other genuine WC legends that I’ve missed, some of whom may have played post ’98 and who may be able to excite the senses in the way my picks did for me.

Who are yours, and why?