After another astonishingly shit display against the 10 cloggers of the Potteries, I despair, I really do. Can there be a lower low to which one could sink (apologies to Michael... Match underway, I wish you luck)? With one obvious exception, I think not.
It doesn't help that the papers are all full of the bloody Rags and their sodding defensive record, with van der Sar's big equine Dutch boat all over the place, while we can't hit the proverbial farm building portal with the proverbial traditional stringed instrument.
To prevent myself from thinking about the dire situation at Eastlands, I propose a solution to the global credit crisis, one which stems from my youth in rural Shropshire. It's a simple answer, and one which may not be immediately obvious to the economic boffins at HMT. I propose that we re-instate half-day closing.
The Honda factory in Swindon commenced a four month closure on Monday, and though this is perhaps a little excessive, it does push all the right buttons as far as I'm concerned. These days, everything is 24/7. We expect to be able to go to a supermarket at any time of the day or night and buy whatever it is we want (as long as we can afford it of course) to buy. But, are we better off as a result? I think you know the answer. No matter how many new niches are discovered, no matter how innovative the marketing men are in pushing their products on to us at every opportunity, we are still in Shit Street. I have noticed the frenzy that seems to grip everyone on those increasingly rare occasions when the supermarkets are set to close for just one day. Surely, if we extended this idea, demand would increase, and we wouldn't all be wondering what the hell's going to happen next.
Every Thursday used to be half-day closing in Oswestry, and the town, which was admittedly hardly ever the life and soul of the party (with the possible exception of Saturday night at Gibbo's) would be closed completely from around lunchtime. I can remember my heart sinking when Thursday came around, because the rigor mortis would worsen, and there would be less than sod-all to do all day. Of course, in those days the pubs used to close at 3.00, re-open at 7.00, and close for the night at 10.30, so the news wasn't all good.
But it's got to be worth a try, surely? Let everyone take Tuesday afternoons off (say), and declare it a weekly bit of dossing about. No football matches, no telly, no bloody shops, just a half-day to listen to your favourite music, draw some pictures, make love, read a book - anything to recharge the batteries and prepare for the remainder of the working week. Who will join me in this campaign?
On the off chance that anyone's interested, the previous post was a little experiment with Plinky, which is quite neat in a way, but also a little spooky and irritating. I may partake further. Let's wait and see.