JESUS SAVES

JESUS SAVES

 There is no doubt it is a penalty

A trailing leg caught the number nine

And upended him right on the spot.

Jesus shakes his head;

So stupido, that centre half

So bloody stupido.

Jose de Jesus will be our saviour

He tells himself

Blessing himself three times

Calling on his grandmother, his grandfather,

The Holy Ghost, Castro, Pancho Villa

And all the saints in Christendom.

The penalty taker glares at him

If looks were bullets he would be finito

He is stupido too, he thinks

Smiling his little smile.

He sways this way on jelly legs

Feints that way and flops his arms

The ball is struck, the aim is fine

But Jesus has read the striker’s line

And….oh yes….

Jesus saves – this time

 

 

THE MANAGER SPEAKS

THE MANAGER SPEAKS
The best player on the planet.
When he plays on snow
He doesn’t leave any marks
He can’t walk on water – yet
Though when he farts there’s always sparks

I am like God
I never get ill
I am always right.
Football is a game of two halves
And is mostly a right load of shite

I wouldn’t say I’m the best there is
But I am in the top one
And that’s the only group to be in
If I walked on water
Some would say it’s because I can’t swim

Some believe football is a matter of life and death
But it is much more important than that
In football as in life
You won’t get far
If you don’t know where the goalposts are

The best way to relax
Is to drink pink champagne
Before the match and after
Then losing five nil
Won’t seem a total disaster.

THE DINOSAUR DEBATE

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THE DINOSAUR DEBATE

Malkey, have you got a chink in your armour?
I wouldn’t be surprised, Dave
The little blighters get everywhere

How many dogs did you keep in Cardiff, Malkey?
More than enough to fill the team when I was there.
Did you hear the one about the Brit, Malkey? And the Paddy,
The Jock, the Taffy, the Jew and the Paki…
That’s racist, Dave!
Cor blimey!
Are you sure you’re a Limey?

AGENTS UNITED

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AGENTS UNITED
The vultures have been circling
And will be for some time
Their Gordon Gekko faces
All suntanned and sublime
They utter words of wisdom such as On yer bike
And when pressed for clarification
They say things like;
It’s money down the drain
And football is a funny old game
Aim for the sky and you’ll reach the ceiling or the door
Aim for the ceiling and you will stay on the floor.
Success in football is all in the mind
You never lose a game if your opponent doesn’t score
Football is about being better
Than you were the day before
So set your goals high
And don’t stop until you get there
And don’t dream about being a footballer
Dream about being a millionaire.

THE MANAGER’S WORDS OF WISDOM

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THE MANAGER’S WORDS OF WISDOM
The best player on the planet.
When he plays on snow
He doesn’t leave any marks
He can’t walk on water – yet
Though when he farts there’s always sparks

I am like God
I never get ill
I am always right.
Football is a game of two halves
And is mostly a right load of shite

I wouldn’t say I’m the best there is
But I am in the top one
And that’s the only group to be in
If I walked on water
Some would say it’s because I can’t swim

Some believe football is a matter of life and death
But it is much more important than that
In football as in life
You won’t get far
If you don’t know where the goalposts are

The best way to relax
Is to drink pink champagne
Before the match and after
Then losing five nil
Won’t seem a total disaster.

THE SILVER TASSIE

I Finally saw THE SILVER TASSIE at The National Theatre last night. What a play, and what a performance! O’Casey’s great war play – or should that be anti-war play – has finally found its natural home.
review:
Act one is set in a Dublin pub, where the victorious football team is celebrating their victory in the cup – the Silver Tassie of the title. Most of them are home on leave from the trenches and are having one last celebration before heading back to France.
Act two, which is set in what appears to be a bombed-out Monastery, drips with symbolism, and the realism of act one has been replaced by a fantastical second one. The soldiers, battered and beaten by their experiences, cower among the ruins,trying to make sense of all the madness, seeming at times to be worshipping the huge gun which pokes its nose out at one corner of the stage. Whether the inference is that religion is as bad as war,or that it causes war, I couldn’t make my mind up,but that there is a clear link between them is certainly implied. The booming and flashing was quite alarming at times, never moreso than at the end of the act, when the huge gun is trundled centre stage, loaded and then pointed directly at the audience, resulting in another almighty bang and a flash that had me seeing stars momentarily.
Acts three and four deal with the aftermath; act three with with the gassed, the shell-shocked, the maimed and the blind trying to recover some kind of normality in hospital; act four at the celebratory dance at the football club where the story began. Here the wheelchair-bound footballer who had won The silver Tassie for the team and his blinded friend finally realise that for them life will never be the same. The ending is surreal, several girls dancing with their ‘scarecrow’ partners, falling down and picking them up,falling down and picking them up…

Brilliantly done and great writing. 5*****