Up in the air junior birdman

The title of this post is from a Tom Lehrer pre-amble to his song: 'It Makes A Fellow Proud To Be A Soldier', just so as you know. The post itself has nothing to do with Tom Lehrer or the military; it was merely suggested by my synapses when I considered the words 'up in the air', which is where things are. Yet again. However, it really is an amusing song (on the album 'An Evening Wasted With Tom Lehrer', which I have blogged about before, so if you haven't done so, go listen.

But I was up in the air I believe. Yes, that wonderful work calliope has spun around again, and everyone's doing their damnedest to lick Gideon's boots by slashing and burning first and hardest. My little corner of public funding will not escape, and there will be somewhere in the order of a 20% reduction in posts come the new year. Naturally I'm a little nervous, being a new boy, that I will be one of the unfortunate ones and will once more be out amid the cold world's strife, searching for the gainful. But hey-ho. What can you do?  Whoever said that working in the public sector is an easy life clearly didn't try it, because ever since I've been involved, there's been nothing but change and challenge.

Speaking of evenings - or afternoons - wasted, I happened on the Everton game in Doyle's on Saturday, at least for the second half, when Eileen turned up and managed to get the German sports channel on, but realised pretty quickly that I shouldn't have bothered. As the game degenerated into a manic pinball session, I could see that the Toffees were going to do us again. And so it was to be. There's nothing funny about Balotelli when he gives the ball away so easily, and there was nothing funny about losing that match either.

On to the Tottenham boys tomorrow evening, and it could all go horribly wrong.

Thoughts of Chair Man

Well, here's my two cents.

AV = yes (though I must re-iterate my total lack of faith in organised politics of any kind. I don't assume that having AV will suddenly make things all better, but there are two compelling reasons I've heard today: 1. Thatcher would never have made it to power if AV was in place in 79 [thanks Michael] and 2. Anything which causes those in power to get so worked up must be worth doing [thanks qwghlm]. This does not mean I will be casting a vote)

OBL = stinks to high heaven. The groans of the Bullingdon Club boys in the Commons the other day when challenged about flouting the supposedly sacrosanct Rule of Law say it all for me. You can't just go around shooting people in the face - I mean head - just because you say they are murderous scum. There aren't many apologists for Bin Laden, yet what do we actually know about him? What do we actually know about anything, really? Only what we're told, and we can see from the way this whole Geronimo thing is developing that that ain't much more than a sack of shit. Xeni Jardin has been tweeting about Guatemala, and the tendency of the government there to dump bodies in the ocean when faced with the inconvenience of requests for basic human rights, and I for one find it all very chilling. Is Barack still guided by the shining hand of God? Is he still striving for an America that is all it can be?

Eurozone bailouts = holy shit! Looking at Greece and Portugal, how can Gideon continue to pursue the austerity plan he is so set on? The swingeing cuts (at least for the Greeks) have done nothing to reduce the deficit, and - duh! - the squeeze is actually making things worse by rendering the economy so uncompetitive that it may never have a chance to pay back the money borrowed. Yet here we are relentlessly pushing forward, laying off coppers and then asking them back as unpaid Specials, slashing nurses and teachers and flying priceless hardware over Libyan air space. What can we do but despair?

On top of that, an easy bye for the Rags against the pliant Schalke 04s, but a glimmer of hope that they will be utterly destroyed at Wembley. Fergie at his usual 'best' yesterday when talking about the tribalism of the Premier League. He mentioned 'Yorkshire teams' (such as? Leeds? Bradford? Barnsley? Rotherham? York? Get to fuck, Sir Alex) and London teams and Liverpool teams and of course studiously avoided mentioning the only true Manchester team. I myself was challenged the other day:

"Who do you support, then?"
"Man City."
"Oh right... Are you a Mancunian?"
"No."

Maybe, in days gone by, or if there hadn't been quite so loud a Bob Dylan duo playing, I would have gone on and blathered about Oswestry and TNS and Shrewsbury and Wrexham... But I didn't.

In a haze

Unlike Jimmy Norman and Mick Jagger (among others) time is not on my side, but I have had a few moments of me time over the past few days, and could not have asked for better smog weather in which to laze it away; birthday bowling with my daughter and her friends, a few beers and a laugh with my mum, couple of games of Simpson's Hit & Run, and now it's back to work - if that's what you can call it. The place is like a graveyard today, all the crash barriers laid out in preparation for the big day on Friday, and the vast majority taking the opportunity offered by the many bank holidays to stay at home or head off to Tenerife or Bognor.

Last night I endured the terrible drone of Steve McClaren on 5 Live as the hard-fought victory at Ewood Park played itself out with that satisfying finish from Dzeko. Everyone knows that McClaren is a joke, but by god he was truly awful as a radio pundit. Alastair Bruce-Ball is a vivid and insightful commentator, but it was heavy weather for him as Uncle Steve laboured his way through yet another rambling soliloquy. He will no doubt feel vindicated that his constant repetition of the 'If they make it through the first 20 minutes...' cliché proved almost correct, and I began to want to smash my beautiful Roberts (not Jason) to pieces every time he said 'the boy Jones' or mentioned that he knew De Jong from his time in Holland, and knew 'the boy' Dzeko from his time in Germany. It was one of those commentaries that can turn games, because the energy required to propel your team to victory is diverted to hatred of the voice coming out of the speakers. And yet... It was not to be. Not this time anyway.

Of course, shit as they are (and I have been to Ewood Park. I know) Blackburn were never going to be an easy proposition at home. Big smashers they are and one piece of commentary about a Paul Robinson punt downfield (apparently it momentarily disappeared from sight in the floodlit gloom, it was belted so hard) reminded me with a feeling of pain of England's performances during the World Cup in Japan, when one of his kicks hit the camera which was suspended high over the centre spot. All muscle and scuffle in the box, big half backs diverting the ball in from 3 yards and a horrible sinking feeling. But then, there was Dzeko (who said Balo was offside? Not the ref)  doing a Torres and slotting one in just when you needed it.

Overall, it was a patchy performance which might have been very different if we had stuck one in during the opening 20 minutes, but it will definitely do, especially as the Baggies did so well against Spurs. What a marvel Silva is (though he did switch off for the middle section of the match, and it was noticeable how important he now is to our attacking game) and what a rock Kompany. It's ours to throw away now, that fourth spot, so let's keep going and get it done.

Wrong 'un

I'm always happy to admit it when I'm wrong. All of my friends will tell you I'm magnanimous to a fault. And how wonderful to be wrong on this occasion. Gloriously, beautifully, rip-roaringly wrong. There were a few omens, such as the young scally lurking outside the chip shop at midday in a Tevez shirt ('Is he 32 years old, Dad?' asked my daughter. He wasn't) asking how much for a chip muffin, clearly unaware that such things are not known in north London. As he left the shop, I asked him:

'Who's gonna win?'

He didn't turn towards me, just sauntered off, and all he said in reply was:

'City'

Then, I discovered that the match tickets I had turned down were for the Rags' end anyway, so even that little downer was not really a downer after all. My fears in the first 25 minutes were not to be realised as we gradually began to boss the match. Kompany was again the all-action hero, and Hart was playing his Shropshire best to deny Lord Berba his goal.

And then there was Yaya... nutmegging Van Der Sar. Rio was clearly getting leggy, and Vidic was looking punch drunk. Who needs Tevez, eh?

But things - as Professor Brian Cox and his mates used to say - could only get better, and the truly beautiful sight of ginger seeing red was laid before me, topped off by Balo's fabulous bit of baiting (yet again, the morning papers are reproducing Ferdinand's bloody tweets. What a sack of fucking shit that is) made them look like the bunch of tossers they are. All in all, a feast fit for a king.

COME ON CITY!

Shoot me

Yesterday I turned down the opportunity of a ticket to Saturday's match at Wembley. City faithful and others among my readership will perhaps be surprised at this, but I can assure you that there are several good reasons, not all of which I'll go into here. Two reasons I will give however, are as follows:
1. Money
2. Hopelessness

Things are a little tight for me following changes to my personal circumstances, and I cannot really justify whatever astronomical cost I would have had to pay to get to and into HA9 on a warm Saturday tea time. Having been to Wemberlee before (on a jolly as well as a paid-for excursion) I am fully aware of the true horror involved in buying a pint of beer there.

Following the disastrous display against the Scousers the other night, and watching the ongoing clusterfuck juggernaut that is the Rags' season, I can't really believe we will stand much of a chance either. All the talk now is that Tevez may never play for us again, and - if true - what a whimper of a way to end your time at a club, pulling up after an inocuous tackle at Anfield and hobbling off the pitch.

Doubtless, Lord Berba will extend his goal tally at the home of football and snatch the Golden Boot from under Carlos' nose, leaving only Shrewsbury boy Hart with a sniff of the Golden Glove award.  Really, what are our options without the bolshy little Argy? Dzeko seems to be suffering Torres-itis, and Balotelli is... well, a fairly typical City player, unfortunately. More noted for his bizarre behaviour than his footballing talent; 'the kind of player to get managers the sack' as was pointed out in the Graun on Tuesday, we really cannot expect great things from the man. One ray of hope lies in David Silva, but as I've said before, he's not a goal scorer; another glimmer is in AJ, and I hope he blows more hot than cold.

Not only have I declined the offer of a ticket, but I don't plan to be with any other football fans when the match is on, despite being offered the opportunity to do so. I will be watching on the boob tube, screening my eyes with my fingers, cowering behind the sofa, silently heaving dry sobs into the crook of my elbow.

England Man City

I watched the friendly match between England and Ghana. I may not have been observing the same match as the one evidently laid before Clive and Andy on ITV1, mind (though I confess I only saw the Carroll goal on replay). They were both continually repeating that it was a great game, and an excellent advert for friendly matches, yet I really couldn't see it. Downing was made man of the match, but he looked shit to me, and almost every touch by one of the many City players on the field was either a cynical foul or a misplaced pass. Utter dross if you ask me, and not particularly heartening for the tense end of the season which is fast approaching. With the exception of Milner (who put his all into it at least) and Hart (who had very little to occupy him) I was kind of embarrassed by the performances of our players.

The fact of Gyan playing so well and getting that late equaliser does not bode well either.

Here are my player ratings:

Hart        6 (not too much to do)

Johnson  6 (seemed OK)

Lescott   4 (too many late and desperate challenges as always)

Cahill      6 (who?)

Jagielka   6 (not bad)
Baines     6 (should be Welsh with a name like that)

Milner     7 (good heart and energy compensating for his talent shortfall)

Barry      5 (not captain material - exposed a few times and quite niggly in the tackle)

Wilshere 5 (fell below the fairly high standard he has been setting of late)
Jarvis      5 (I prefer Martin Jarvis)

Downing 5 (I'm prejudiced)

Carroll    4 (see above - he's just a big donkey. Get him out!)

Defoe     4 (didn't see much of him)

Young     6 (good, but faded)

Welbeck 4 (Rag wanker)

So there you have it. My considered opinion of the cream of Capello's crop. Even he thought it was a good game, so I must be going mad.

Nerves

Apologies for the recent online silence, but I have been in mourning for the (to all intents and purposes) end of Manchester City's season. I thought we were doing OK against Chelsea in the first half, but they fucked us in the end. At least we weren't the ones on which Torres bust his still intact cherry, and for that small mercy we can only be grateful. The Kiev match was a wash-out once Balo had received his marching orders, even if it was something of a relief that we were out of that stupid Europa League competition. I am now reduced to hoping that the Rags get caught by the Gooners in the finishing straight. Fourth spot is by no means a foregone for us, and that will sure as eggs is eggs seal Mancini's fate if it so transpires.

But enough of this maudlin talk. We have failed two big tests and have to move on. Now for another test - this time for me.

I mentioned my NEBOSH training in a recent post.

And now the moment of truth approaches. Yes, it's the exam. A two hour pen and paper assessment with a pass mark of 45%, due to commence at 10am on Thursday 24th March. The pass seems fairly easily achievable, and as a result I feel that I've become a little complacent. My original aim was to try and get a distinction (which I believe to be 70%+) or at least a merit (which I think is 60%+) but I am now fully prepared to settle for the pass. I don't have a particular fear of written exams, though, I have to say. I feel that I have always (at least since I left school. Whilst I was at school, through a mixture of laziness and some very poor teachers, I did rather abysmally) more or less performed well in such pressure situations. I'm just hopeful that I will get some of the more woolly questions about health & safety culture, where I can freeform bullshit, rather than the hard fact regurgitation of some of the other areas - although the PEME, ERICPD and POPIMAR pnemonics have sunk in, so I suppose I shouldn't have that much to worry about.

I never thought, I must confess, when I started here in what felt like a sleepy backwater after the madness of Defra/Interserve, that things would get as hectic as they have, but I'm not complaining. At least I've got a job, and if I do manage to achieve that pass, my CV will appear a damn sight healthier than it did before I arrived.