REMEMBER WHEN SPORTSMEN BROKE PROPER BONES?

I'm not a great sport fan, i used to watch Liverpool many years ago and had a season ticket for a few years once upon a lifetime ago. I do enjoy watching old games and old boxing on the 'box' from time to time. There's a channel called ESPN on the SKY network and they show old sporting events. I've just been watching a heap of old Liverpool games from the 70's and early 80's. And a series of documentaries on various old time boxers. Things just seemed more real and exciting, as well as 'harder.' There was a documentary about 'Football..The wonderful game'..All about the 70's . It was great all these teams with shocking haircuts;Droopy mustaches; Shorts that were so tight they seperated the blood in the legs from the blood in the rest of the body. Thats probably why the players were always boozing n' shagging all those models, etc...As soon as they took those shorts off and the blood from above and below re-connected in the 'middle-nether reigons'..Well, i'd rather not think about it, it makes you wonder about the team bath. The pitches started the season green and pristine. A few showers of rain and a few games and the bowling green became a bog. This was also the days when tackling was allowed. Players, who wouldn't be allowed in the ground, these days, even if they were allowed out of the solitary padded cell in the psychiatric hospital they were sentanced to spend their life in. In those days they were encouraged, cheered and praised for attempted murder every Saturday afternoon. God bless Tommy Smith! The players used to suffer from proper medical conditions....None of your damaged meta-tarsels, ligament or tendon damage...... It was stuff like "He's done his leg in.... Busted his foot .....Done his knee....Or had his nose busted!!!" All this was cured by the cold wet sponge that had spent the game festering in stagnant water in an old club rusty bucket before being slapped, not placed, but slapped onto the 'sore bit'. 9 times out of 10, the player saw the bucket and sponge coming , muttered 'Sod that!', suddenly found the inner strength to ignore the pain and get back into the battle, it wasn't a game. As the immortal BILL SHANKLEY once said about football being a matter of life or death.."No, son , it's far more important than that".

AMAZINGLY,WHEN I CONNECTED THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS TO THE MAINS THEY LIT UP...SO DID THE LOVELY LYNNE!

It's that time of the year when i sit here scratching myself a lot more than normal!....Yes ,as that bloody ASDA advert Bing Crosby song tells us every thirty seconds.."It's beginning to feel a bit like christmas(groan)". As for my increased levels of itching. This is due to my forced entry into the attic to rummage round for the bloody christmas decorations. When i get covered in the loft insulation, which keeps me warm for a few days as i don't sit still long enough to cool down ,i'm a constant blur of scratching and scraping at fibres of loft insulation. But i hauled the boxloads of baubles, decorations,mangers and,of course miles of lights. Now ,i faced the lights with more than a little trepidation. When i neatly wrapped them up last year they were working perfectly well. But, as you all will know, that means nothing. cos' as you plug them in again, the bastard things wont work. It is an unwritten law of the universe....Christmas lights will not work when you first plug them in! I wandered scratching n' scraping; Putting off the inevitable, just for a few more minutes to put the kettle on and have a cuppa. (Like the song 'Right!' said Fred.... An we woz gettin' nowhere. An' so we 'ad a cuppa tea...") All tasks can be subdivided into mugs of tea, it's what made Britain great. But, a monumentous discovery was made whilst i was about my kettley duties. Instead of leaving the travesty of the great christmas lighting (attempted)turn on to me, the Lovely Lynne went about it herself. Then it was conclusively shown miracles do happen...THE BLOODY LIGHTS LIT UP!....The mains alternating current went through the lights and they lit up. Unfortunatly the same mains alternating current went through the Lovely Lynne and she lit up, as well. I knew nothing about this until i saw her still smoking shoes on the floor beneath the charred hole in the living room ceiling, and she reentered the room with a strange 1970's disco style frizzy haircut with large sparkling if slightly crossed eyes. I leapt into action and shoved her out of the way ,i had to make sure the christmas lights were still working. The highly charged Lovely Lynne, or 'Sparky'as i affectionatly call her is fine, with no after effects from her 'shock' except she doesn't need the telly remote control to change channel, just clicks her fingers, same to set the car alarm. She's always only had to click her fingers to fire up my systems and get the Leatherbarrow sparks flying, but the battery's still flat, maybe next year when she lights the lights again, or maybe when i stop scratching...Bloody loft insulation.