THE FINAL INSULT..

This photo shows Sports Minister Helen Grant, MP, attending the opening of Maidstone United`s new ground a year or so ago.   Now, Mrs. Grant, just a couple of years after resigning as a member of the Labour Party, was selected from the `A` list as a parliamentary candidate for the Conservative Party. She was duly adopted by Maidstone and The Weald to succeed Ann Widdecombe, now happily retired and put out to grass in Devon, and Mrs. Grant duly won the seat at the last General Election, albeit having cut the Conservative majority down from 14,000 to under 6,000.

Her Parliamentary career has been `chequered,`involving controversies about her expenses and there were issues concerning the employment of her husband as an `advisor` and the employment conditions of a former employee.   She rose almost without trace to become Justice Minister, which was singularly ironic, but where her performance was less than memorable and so in a recent reshuffle she found herself as Sports Minister in the Department for Culture, Media and Sport.

As such, a couple of days ago she was interviewed on Meridian TV about matters under her portfolio and was asked a series of not terribly searching questions to test her sporting knowledge.   After all, she seemed pretty sporty, having apparently represented Cumbria in hockey, tennis, athletics and cross-country, as well as being an under-16 judo champion for the north of England and southern Scotland, so you would assume that, as Sports Minister, she would know her sporting stuff.   Not a bit of it.   Despite some frantic off-camera prompting from an `aide,` she fluffed each of the questions which included `Who is the current England Rugby captain?,` `Who is the current Wimbledon Ladies champion?,`When did Maidstone United leave the Football League?` and `Which team currently holds the FA Cup?`

Now, I`m of an age when tolerance, forbearance and forgiveness have kicked in, so I can possibly find it in my heart to overlook Mrs. Grant`s `difficulties` over political indecision, expenses claims and even her tenure as Justice Minister.   Indeed, I will go as far as saying that I quite understand her inability to give the correct answer to at least some of the questions she was asked.  

But my powers of forgiveness were stretched beyond reason by her frantic searching for the answer about who were the current FA Cup holders when, despite her plea for help, she could only mutter, "Manchester United because it`s my favourite club." It represented the final insult to the intelligence of sports lovers everywhere, especially those in Wigan. They, along with Westminster watchers, may have hoped that at last  we may have found a Sports Minister who knows her stuff, whereas in reality it seems we have yet another opportunistic chancer who has found a convenient niche on the greasy pole. 

You see, for Mrs. Grant and her ilk, it`s all about the career, but I do wonder how long this phase of her career will last.

McMADNESS..

With much tub-thumping assertion, the SNP have today launched their `Independence Encyclopedia` - a 670-page tome setting out all the advantages and debunking any anxieties about independence from the rest of the UK.   Well, it has been a fragile union and whatever the outcome of the referendum there`s little doubt that the Kingdom (why isn`t it a Queendom?) will never be truly united ever again.

The whole business is curious - weird even.   If there was a truly United Kingdom, united as one in a close-knit family, then if one member of that family wanted to leave, then surely the other members of the family might think they should be asked for their opinion?  But it`s not happening, is it?   And so I can only conclude that there are two reasons for that. The first is probably the cost of holding the referendum across the whole of the UK, so even democracy, it seems, has its price although I imagine (perhaps wrongly) that the cost of holding the referendum is being wholly borne by the Scottish taxpayers?   But the second reason may well be because, if England in particular was able to vote, then the probable outcome would be a resounding `Yes, please` reflecting the majority desire to be rid of these turbulent Scots.

The madness doesn`t stop there, however.   In yet another cunning ploy, the vote is being given to 16 and 17-year olds in Scotland, to Scots living abroad but not to those living in other parts of the UK.   It`s the kind of stuff that you would find difficult to make up or would only find in some dark Orwellian plot.

Here in the erstwhile Garden of England, the more I see and hear of the piscine sounding Salmond and Sturgeon - rapidly becoming the George Burns and Gracie Allen of politics - the more I look forward to them retreating to their Caledonian  stronghold beyond Hadrian`s Wall and leaving the rest of us in peace.

Say goodnight, Gracie.

ANOTHER BANDWAGON IN SIGHT ?

`The Media` are all over Jonathan Trott and his decision to come home from the Ashes tour and try to come to terms with his stress-related issues.   I wish him well in that and, pious though it may be, I hope he truly is left in peace and given the time and space he so clearly needs.   So I for one will be commenting no further on that subject.

Now it may seem unrelated but I couldn`t help notice the announcement today that serial do-gooder Esther Rantzen is setting up `SilverLine,` designed to provide a lifeline for lonely elderly people.  Ms. Rantzen of course, has a reputation for this kind of thing, having launched the successful ChildLine some years ago.   However well intentioned her latest wheeze may be,as someone in his mid-70s but fortunately not yet lonely enough to seek help, I think if that day ever came then the last person I would want on the other end of the line would be a gushing, attention-seeking, Damehood hunting former television `personality.`

Given the news from Australia, however, I do wonder how long it will be before she jumps on yet another bandwagon and sets up SledgeLine?

   A TOE IN THE WATER..

My apologies for absence for a while but I had some `unwelcome visitors,` who now seem to have gone away.  I hope they stay away and that my tactic of simply ignoring them has worked.   Anyway, I`m dipping a toe in the water with this one just to see if things are now `back to normal` - whatever that may be - and how better to test the water than to comment on yesterday`s sporting `performances.`

It was an inauspicious day all round for my sporting heroes, culminating this morning when I got up a bit early to see how the Test Match was going only to witness the death throes of England`s cricketers as they slumped to a 381 run stuffing by the rampant Aussies.   Now throughout my entire career as a devotee of the beautiful game, I doubt I ever scored 381 runs all told, so England`s defeat was indeed comprehensive.

On the footy front things were no brighter - my beloved Saints suffering their first defeat in the Premier League since August, thanks to a goalkeeping blunder of heroic proportions by `Mad Artur` Boruc and a dodgy penalty generously awarded by referee Clattenburg when Saints defender Jose Fonte brushed a couple of bits of fluff off Per Mertesacker`s shirt.  2-0 to the Arsenal then, but at least the Saints stay in the top four....until this afternoon.

But my heart really goes out to my next door neighbour, avid Gillingham devotee Mr. Slightly, who once again had to suffer the indignity of his team losing at their Priestfield ex-fortress, this time to lowly Oldham.   On my way back from taking Barney out for his walkies this morning, I noticed Mr. Slightly`s car speeding off in the direction of Cuxton, presumably he was on his way to the local community refuse tip to throw his season ticket into the bin that has been especially provided for exasperated Gills fans.   Et tu, Slightly ?

Sorry about this but I`m afraid I`m...

IN STARK CONTRAST..

I don`t do horror films.   I can see no fun or entertainment in being frightened out of my wits, so I avoid them.   But every now and again, one comes along that contains something quite memorable.  Just such a case is Ridley Scott`s 2001 film `Hannibal,` featuring our cannibalistic friend Hannibal Lecter, played with all the threatening enthusiasm you would expect from Anthony Hopkins.

What makes it truly memorable is the short aria written for it by Patrick Cassidy - Vide Cor Meum (See my Heart), based on Dante`s `La Vita Nuova` - a piece of music so hauntingly beautiful that it is unsurprisingly listed as one of the greatest 40 arias ever composed.  It is in such stark contrast to the rest of the gruesome nature of the film that it seems quite incongruously out of place.   But it is glorious, especially this version by Katherine Jenkins and the wonderful Rhys Meirion.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I do:-

THE ONLY WAY ?...

An incredible journey for Southampton Football Club, from three years ago at the bottom of the third tier on minus 10 points to third in the Premier League with 22 points from 11 games - just another 19 needed to almost guarantee survival in `the best league in the world (tm).`

In the past week especially, seemingly unremitting praise has been heaped on the club following its excellent start to the season, three players called up to the senior England squad, two to the Under-21s and two more to the Under-19s;  other international call-ups for our players from Japan, Croatia, Poland, Uruguay, Northern Ireland, Kenya and Italy;  and the manager Mauricio Pochettino being named Premier League Manager of the Month.

It`s all very heady stuff and no wonder they`re dancing in the streets of Southampton  as times like these have not been experienced for 30 years, when we finished second in the old First Division to Liverpool.

And yet experienced Saints followers like me are getting worried.  Surely it can`t go on like this, especially when the team currently appears at the top of the `form table`:-

You see, we`ve become accustomed to knowing our place, we have lived through years of perpetual struggle, through two administrations, we have suffered under the misguided regime of rogue managers and incompetent chairmen but all the while we have lived with the hope of financial security, inspiring management, beneficial ownership, a successful team and an end to our fears and default anxieties.

And now that the club seems finally to have achieved all of those long held hopes and aspirations, we can`t quite believe it.  And we worry that, in true Saints tradition, it will all come crashing around our ears and we will be back where we have nearly always been, knowing our place and dreaming of better times.  There is almost a sense of embarrassment with the attention we have been getting and maybe a sense of longing being developed for those good old days of torment and perennial disappointment, for such has been the transformation that we suspect the only way may be down.....but we`ll enjoy these good times while they last, however long that turns out to be.

Harping back to my recent post concerning the centenary of the outbreak of World War 1, amid fears that the way in which Britain might mark the Great War could affect relations with Angela Merkel`s administration,  a couple of months ago Germany  sent a special envoy to call on Britain `not to celebrate the centenary but to focus on the idea that the European Union brought peace to the continent.`

I got the sense that the German government was almost pleading with Britain not to go on mentioning the war too much.  Now I`m sure we`ll all try our hardest to comply with the wishes of our Teutonic chums but I wouldn`t be surprised if the war isn`t mentioned now and again over the next few years but we`ll just have to hope that we`ll get away with it. 

I see that millions of Euros have allegedly been trousered by the Mafia instead of reaching the intended destination of helping disaster victims and rebuilding of the town of L`Aquila in Italy which was badly affected by last year`s devastating earthquake. More than £450million from the EU`s `Solidarity Fund` went to the town where thousands of homes were destroyed and where over 300 people died.  

But in a draft report on the effectiveness of the aid, it is claimed that some of the money was paid  to companies `with direct or indirect ties` to organised crime and accuses the EU Commission of allowing fraud to take place on its watch.   The Commission has predictably rejected the allegation of misuse and insists that the distribution of funds has been `monitored carefully.`  So that`s alright then.

It also transpires that British taxpayers will have to cough up an extra £800million after the EU spent nearly £6billion `in error` last year.   The European Court of Auditors have refused yet again to sign off the EU accounts - for the 19th year in succession - and revealed that EU spending errors are 23% up on the year before.  It seems that a staggering £5.7billion was paid out to `ineligible projects` of which Britain`s share is £832million.   The Auditors also found that control of another £117billion was only `partially effective.`  A European Commission spokesman attempted to defend the situation by insisting that taxpayers would not have to pay the £832million of Britain`s share, claiming that instead it would be `clawed back.`  So that`s alright then.

Now if I was a paid up member of a club that treated its members with such patronising contempt and which conducted its business in such a cavalier and unaccountable manner I`m pretty sure I would have ripped up my membership card by now and walked away from it for good.   But with the EU it doesn`t really matter - it`s just other people`s money.   So that`s alright then.  Isn`t it?.

TREAD SOFTLY..

I think I`m right in saying that HM Gov. is proposing to spend more than £50million over the next four years with a programme to `commemorate` the First World War - The Great War as it became known once it was over.   In making the announcement, Dave Cameron expressed the hope that remembering the `sacrifice` of British troops would "capture our national spirit in every corner of the country, in every school, workplace, town hall and local community in a commemoration that, like the Diamond Jubilee in 2012, says something about who we are as a people." 

Politicians and officials in Westminster and Whitehall are beavering away on detailed plans to mark this pivotal time in our history and already an extensive list of events has been drawn up.   Now it`s clearly true that occasions such as this do provide an opportunity for us to reflect on "who we are as a people" but if the only purpose of remembering The Great War is to provide us with a warm glow of national pride, especially when compared to the Diamond Jubilee by the Prime Minister no less, then I fear that the reality of that conflict will be buried in a welter of sentiment.

In searching for a more realistic reflection of The Great War, I was reminded that my old school chum, the late poet and critic William Scammell, wrote one of the most raw and evocative interpretations of what it must really have been like:-

Opaque and resonant as sacred texts
the names alone sound out a litany:
Passchendaele, Ypres, the Somme, Verdun...

Some dropped perfect but for a sweet
smudge of gas - others, dispersing, spanned
earth in the wildest hug.

Men flashed hissing to their elements
like spit gobbed on a stove.  One officer
in nomansland apologised to his troops

behind for lasting in such loud slow screams.
Four men unwound their lives to staunch
his uproar - failed, like the concerted knuckles

hammered round his teeth.  Gowned neutrally
for christenings, deaths, history thumbs
its cheap editions, weltering in echoes.

I think of Sassoon`s tall heart, contracting
fiercest love for his own men, one of whom
shot him from excess of zeal;  of Graves`s

stretched contempts.  The fires they grazed rot down
in village squares.  On memory`s floor words rut
and root, nosing blind and ghastly at the tongue.

Instead of four years of superficial tub thumping which runs the risk of merely creating a trivialised sideshow, surely our time, energy and resources would be better spent on a truly meaningful celebration of the centenary of the end of the Great War in 2018.   And  in the meantime, we should tread softly and respectfully in memory of the countless millions who perished or whose lives were changed forever.   We should remember them, rather than making the centenary of the start of the Great War an excuse for us to feel good about ourselves.

ALL PART OF THE JOB..

The revelation that 340 MPs have claimed over £200,000 for fuel costs in their constituency homes comes as no surprise as the `lessons` of the great expenses scandal - such as they were - are clearly forgotten.

And yet is seems that these tax payer funded energy bills are perfectly legitimate and approved by the Parliamentary Standards Commission as being `within the rules.`  Now I seem to recall that these `rules` allowed MPs to claim expenses on items that were essential for the proper discharge of their duties as Members of Parliament....or some such gobbledegook speech.

So, I`m wondering whether I can now claim my own energy costs on the basis that they are essential for the proper discharge of my duties as an aged pensioner struggling to survive on a fixed income in harsh financial circumstances.   All part of the job?

ONCE BITTEN?

An Update from Serge Osvaldo

Our Restaurant Critic..

A little while ago, I reported on M. Snoppeur`s unfortunate experience when he took his family to lunch at a nearby riverside `restaurant.`  I won`t repeat the details here but they can be seen in my article `Sacre Bleu` posted on 4th October.   But I did mention that he had written to complain about the dismal standard of service and the quality of the food and I suggested he might have a long wait for a reply.

Mais voila!   A special delivery envelope arrived from the company yesterday with a letter of apology and a voucher for him to spend at any of the `restaurants` run by that company any time within the next six months.

M. Snoppeur`s reaction has been, how you say,... predictable.  First the surprise that it took only a month for the company to reply, given how long it took for the food to arrive after they had placed their orders but, secondly, the cruel irony of being handed a voucher to repeat the experience which caused him to complain in the first place.  Le Snoppeur likens it to being on a cruise ship struck by the norovirus.  You suffer its effects, you vow never to go on a cruise again and the shipping company offers you the chance of a trip round the harbour next time you`re in Southampton.

I am told that you English have a saying;  something about being once bitten and twice shy.   So too do we connoisseurs of cordon noir cuisine.   Merci, mais non, merci. 

A DISTANT ECHO...

....of a bygone age came to me in a book I`m currently reading.  The book is Stephen Chalke`s `The Way it Was,` and is a collection of more than 100 articles he wrote for Wisden Cricket Monthly, The Wisden Cricketer and The Times, providing glimpses of English cricket from 1946 onwards.

One reason I`m reading it for the second time is to help stave off the onset of the shorter days and longer nights that have arrived.  Before long, winter will be upon us with all its misery and my seasonal affective disorder (SAD) will drive me to seek therapy in cricket books and The Ashes series in Australia in an attempt to recapture the joy of those summer days in the sun.

The picture above shows a game of village cricket being played on the recreation ground in the village of St. Mary`s Platt here in Kent.   Beyond stands the church where Mrs. Snopper and I were married 52 years ago and behind the church the wind shaken wood, where we used to wander and and make our discoveries and where even now I quite often take Barney for his walkies.   And all those years ago, as now, cricket was a passion for me.   I used to captain a nearby village team who played on Sundays  and on Saturdays I played for Platt on the `old` recreation ground where we would stop playing football one week and play our cricket the following week on wickets that were consequently `interesting.`

My wife spent her childhood with her family in a cottage opposite the church and next door, in a much grander residence, lived the Barton family.   Michael Barton also played for the village team and such was his presence on the cricket field that he was always referred to as `Mr. Barton.` Small wonder really, for he had been captain of Surrey from 1948 until 1952, when Stuart Surridge took over from him.

Those were the days of the amateur captains and his appointment at Surrey came after a blue at Oxford, impressive displays for the Free Foresters and a successful career at Dunlop and he found himself captaining a team that included the Bedser twins, Bernard Constable, Laurie Fishlock, Arthur McIntyre, Jim Laker, Tony Lock and even a fledging Peter May.  But Barton turned out to be a successful and popular leader and his captaincy included a joint championship with Lancashire in 1950,  paving the way for Surridge to go on and lead Surrey to seven successive titles.  

In all he played 147 games for Surrey, scoring almost 6,000 runs with a top score of 192.   After his spell as captain, he became a commodity trader in the City but retained his links with Surrey and became their President in 1983.  He died in 2006 at the age of 91 and when I next visit Platt churchyard I will make a point of seeking out his resting place.

Now I will refrain from calling the fact that I played in the same village team as him as a claim to fame, rather quite the reverse for, at the time, the dismissive ignorance of youth made me blissfully unaware that I was playing alongside a cricketer of such quality and prominence.   I simply never knew and, as I now understand the significance of that distant echo, I am left regretful that it is only now that I  appreciate just what a privilege was presented to me on that village green all those years ago.

It`s the same every week.   You hear about Suarez, van Persie, Rooney, Torres and the rest of the star turns in the Premier League - the self-styled `best league in the world`

(tm).   But there`s a whole cast of football heroes out there whose accomplishments in the lower echelons of the game deserve to be acknowledged.

Now I`ve no idea why but as well as following the fortunes of Southampton for well over 60 years, I also have a penchant for following the fortunes of a number of other clubs whose status in the game is perhaps a little more restrained.   Teams like Forest Green Rovers, Truro City, East Stirling and more latterly Bristol City, for whom our street`s local hero, Scott Wagstaff, now plies his trade as a hard working pacey wideman with a good engine, an eye for a pass and a growing reputation as a goal scorer.   But more on that story later.

Just recently - and again I`ve no idea why - I have become interested in Scotland`s Highland League, with clubs such as Fort William, Brora Rangers, Inverurie Loco Works, Forres Mechanics and Wick Academy.   And it is to Wick Academy that I turn for what must surely be the most impressive goal scoring achievement of last weekend - and quite possibly any other weekend.   On Saturday, they played Fort William at home and won 8-1 with all of their eight goals being scored by Gary Weir, thus breaking the club`s scoring record in a single game, previously held by Richard Macadie who scored five in Wick`s 7-0 win away at Buckie Thistle in 2012.  So congratulations to Gary and it gives me great pleasure to acknowledge his remarkable achievement.  

Bristol City were actually a whole team of unsung heroes last weekend because, having failed to win in their last 22 league matches, they made the long journey to Carlisle and secured their first win since April with a convincing 4-2 victory.  (Incidentally, some of the journeys made by these teams and their supporters are themselves heroic - 364 Bristol City fans made the 550 mile round trip to Brunton Park and the hapless Fort William team clocked up 325 miles on their return visit to Wick - there are no records to show how many, if any, Fort William fans made the journey.)

So we in Snopper Street are over the moon as converted Bristol City fans, especially as Wagstaff scored the third goal with a sublime piece of finishing which, quite seriously and without exaggeration, would have graced any Premier League game all season.

It seems churlish to end this testament to the weekend`s football by entering a note of disappointment. It is especially churlish since three years ago, Southampton were in the third tier of English football and on Saturday found themselves third in the Premier League,   However, thanks to Sunday`s results, the Saints have now plummeted down to fifth place, which really won`t do.   Pochettino out!!

RIGHT FIRST TIME..

For some unaccountable reason, FIFA President Sepp Blatter was invited to speak at the Oxford Union the other evening.  He told the students: "Perhaps you think I am a ruthless parasite sucking the lifeblood out of the world and out of football - the Godfather of the FIFA gravy train - an out of touch heartless schmoozer."

By his own admission, of course, he is never wrong, so who am I to question his self-analysis?

DOCTOR, DOCTOR...

.....I need help.  I`m suffering from a severe case of vertigo, along with a dazed feeling of living in a kind of daydream and suspecting that I`ll wake up any moment and realise it can`t have been true.  Here`s why:-

Pos	Team	P	GD	Pts
1	Arsenal	9	11	22
2	Liverpool	9	9	20
3	Southampton	9	7	18
4	Everton	9	4	18
5	Chelsea	8	9	17
6	Man City	8	11	16
7	Tottenham	8	3	16
8	Man Utd	9	2	14
9	Hull City	8	-2	11
10	Newcastle	8	-3	11
11	Swansea	8	1	10
12	West Brom	9	-2	10
13	Aston Villa	9	-3	10
14	Fulham	9	-3	10
15	Cardiff	9	-5	9
16	West Ham	8	0	8
17	Stoke	9	-4	8
18	Norwich	9	-7	8
19	C. Palace	9	-13	3
20	Sunderland	8	-15	1

ANNOYING BUT NOT MALICIOUS..

Sometimes life produces minor triumphs, inconsequential darts thrown at the ramparts of convention, tiny moments of satisfaction in a world of relentless frustration.   And I have to confess to experiencing one such joyful moment this morning, of all places in the book aisle of the local Tesco mega-market.

We had been there to do our weekly shopping and, as tradition has it, I toddle off to do the man stuff like putting the empty plastic bottles in the recycling bin, visiting the cash machine (more out of curiosity than ambition) and then trying to find Mrs. Snopper who by this time is well into the fruit and veg.   On my search for her, I tend to have a little detour to look at magazines and books but seldom feel the urge to buy one.   

And today I was especially discouraged from buying `Alex Ferguson - My  Autobiography` despite the fact that it was on sale at half price.  But I have to admit that it caught my eye, especially as there were quite a lot of them on show, all with his face scowling down at us.   

Now my handy dictionary defines `mischief` as `annoying but not malicious behaviour,` so I`m hopeful that the CCTV cameras will ignore my little bit of mischief in turning all of the Ferguson books round the wrong way, so that only the back covers of the books were visible and showing Ferguson`s back as he trudged back to the dressing room at Old Trafford, hair-dryer at the ready.  

So my apologies to the Tesco staff if my annoying but not malicious behaviour caused them any inconvenience and perhaps a marginal drop in sales, but it was really quite irresistible and, for a few brief moments, gave me a feeling of quiet contentment.   I know, I know - I`ll be fine when I grow up.   Possibly.

MUTUAL CONSENT..

Football Club Manager :  "Well, Mr. Chairman, I`ve come to the conclusion that I`m crap."

Football Club Chairman : "I agree.  `Bye, then.   Next, please!!"

WELCOME HOME ?

Re-entry into the `real world` is a sobering experience.   After another wonderful week on north Cornwall`s coast path, there has already been a bewildering selection of `issues` crossing my consciousness, none of which I was aware of whilst savouring the great escape in the far west.   Too many to name them all and anyway they all have the common denominator of seeming important to the `real world` when in reality they are but examples of the frantic insecurities of modern day Britain.

So I`ll just mention one - the naming of a street in Manchester after former United manager `Sir` Alex Ferguson.   Now hereabouts in deepest Kent there seems over the years to have been a fairly sensible approach to naming streets.   They tend to follow themes - close by there is a Birds Estate (Swallow Road, Plover Road and other chirpy names); a Poets estate (Thackeray, Keats, Auden, etc.) roads named after counties (Essex, Hereford, Somerset) and, of course, let`s not forget the trees - Maple, Laburnum, Sycamore and others of a woody disposition.

There were even rumours around here that a new `development` close to a nearby golf course would pick up that theme and have roads with names such as The Bogies, Bunker Crescent, Birdie Walk and yet another housing development on the site of a former mental hospital might, but for some hefty intervention by a concerned parish council, have gloried in street names such as The Nutters, Bonkers Avenue or even Loopy Mews.  Just don`t get me started on diseases of the body - The Shingles anyone?

So it`s with some mild amusement I see that, in keeping with the aforementioned insecurities of modern day Britain, a street in Manchester has been named after one of the most abrasive, charmless, intolerant individuals imaginable.   Mind you, it could have been even more appropriate if the street in question was on an estate which had such matching qualities as its very own theme - he could have found himself among The Tossers, Pillock Drive or The Rantings...and not been out of place.

I think I would prefer to have stayed in Cornwall.