Alf Tupper

Its Norwich v Derby

Oh, he was associated with Big Brother, the show for non sentient beings, voyeurs and the brain dead. That explains it all then

What is it with this Russell Brand bloke? The first time I saw him on TV I did not realise he was trying to be amusing. But I am told people find him comical. Now I know I am not in the first flush of youth so maybe something has passed me by but even in my dotage I can see and hear that this bloke just aint funny. If being annoying, simpering, embarrassing and stupid is all it takes, well, words fail me. It clearly works for him. Yes I realise that comedy is a personal thing and I am told that he was funny once, for about 20 seconds, but what exactly does he do to qualify as a personality? If he is that good why is his radio show tucked away at a time when no one except hospital patients listen to the wireless. Still they are hardly going to burst their stitches with mirth are they? I believe he is the only one who thinks he's funny. Funny as clap. I stopped laughing at obvious comedy when I was about five years old when I realised Mr Pastry wasn’t that humorous. Seems that other people didn’t. And after that debacle at the MTV awards (I caught that bit on the news the other day). All I will say is that the Yanks do not like anyone, especially twerps, telling them which way to vote.

Like you chaps I think the historic sites we have a great although they could be marketed to outsiders a little better. But we do have other worthwhile attractions For instance: I like our ice rink.....Oh Well the bird aviary, lovely to see them....oh The Rose Gardens opposite the civic..ce. ...oh The Speedway Stad.....oh The Pier, a great venue for danc....oh Well, if not the Pier the Top Rank Suite.... Oh There's always a stroll down at Ocean Vill....oh West Quay.....oh no

'Sign an Affidavit to say that you will use the imformation responsibly'. OK - Does that include telling your friends, who tell their friends.... This government hasn't got a good record with people's private data at the best of times. Suppose some scum bag with my name was convicted but his record was put on my file. I don't know about it until I go for a job or get a kicking from some vigilante group. Then there's the job of clearing my name. And don't forget that 'mud sticks'. Meanwhile, a disk goes missing...

I read today that Pink Floyd keyboard player Rick Wright has died from cancer. Very sorry to hear that. In the late 60s and early 70's Floyd were one of my favourite bands and I was lucky enough to see them at Southampton Guildhall in about 1972. Rest in peace Mr Wright, and thanks for the music.

Spent a week in Greece with Kozmar, one of their compnaies, about ten years ago. The flight was bad, the accommodation was filthy (they even expected us to use the bedding left by the previous occupier and seemed genuinely shocked that we demanded to have it changed.) Ant and ****raoch investation, plumbing that only worked every other day. I swore I would never go with one thier outfits again and I haven't. Now it looks like I never will. Good riddance to them (although I do have sympathy for those holiday makers who have lost out even if they are West Ham supporters).

Live in Southampton and work in Alder****. 56 miles if I go on the M3, 48 via the A31 through Four Marks. I set off at about 0630 so the roads are not too bad although on a Monday the M3 from Fleet up can be a bit naughty. I treat my drive in each moning as quality me time. I listen to the radio. Get news of the Saints on Radio Bournemouth (I mean Solent) although that does mean enduring Julian Clegg who gives himself a name check every 20 seconds. Then I spend a bit of time with the real news with Radio 5 Live or Radio 4 or catch up with Alan Brazil's latest boozing stories on Talk Sport with the irritating Ronnie Irani, depending on my mood. I used to listen to Talk Sport every morning but find Irani so ill informed and up his own that I usually give it a miss now. Occasionally I'll shout at the radio if someone is getting on my tits, but at least I have that anger out of my system before I reach the office. Anyway, my journey usually takes about an hour each way and as I said, I treat it as me time and that way I try to make it enjoyable. Here endeth the lesson.

Bows and arrows were made from willow. We would trim the arrows to be as straight as we could. We did use playing cards then raided the shed and screwed nuts onto the tip end of the arrow. Went for miles. Looking back, it is a wonder we didn't kill each other. Another game we would play was Tarzan and would be up a tree, 30 or 40 feet and jump like monkeys to an adjacent tree. Never occured to us that one slip and we were dead. We just did it. We also used to swim at the Lido in summer though god knows what disease and pestilence the water contained. When the 'new baths' opened in the early 60's I'd think nothing of diving off the ten metre board. Went back a few years later and it took all my nerve to jump of the five. The bottom line was that by and large we made our own fun. And if it was peeing with rain, or you had the mumps or measels or something, we would read a book. That is a habit that I thankfully have never got out of.

Some of us old uns have gone on about the good old days, when we were kids and the world was innocent. Well, here I go again. For those over 50 – a taste of nostalgia, for under – turn to the next page. Do you remember when kids were not allowed in pubs? We could go in the pub garden if there was one. Children weren’t allowed in pubs because people went to the pub to smoke, drink, have the occasional fight and avoid their wives. The very thought of a child in a pub was disgusting, let alone special pubs for children with ‘activity rooms, baby changing facilities, and a children’s menu. Then there was going to the beach. Your parents (for any Portsmouth kids reading, that’s your mum and a man she once met. For any children of transgenders/gays/ civil ceremonies or whatever, just look at some old photographs, I’m not going there). We would go to Calshot or Lepe mostly. You’d have to get changed under an old towel and you could wander off all day without an air and sea rescue mission being launched. It was before health and safety barriers were put up and the Paedo obsessed patrols marched up and down the beach looking for a man to set fire to. At some point you would return, covered in sea weed and tar and eat sarnies brought from home and drink Tizer. Then you would go home again, with a pocket full of stones and shells. Or you would go to the park, with the dog. The park had grass and a swing and if you fell off, you became the proud owner of a scar. No one molested you; you were not offered Special Brew or heroin or converted to Islam. You would have to dodge the dog**** (which was white) and it was socially acceptable to climb trees and throw conkers at girls. In fact you were allowed to play conkers and the girls played hop scotch or something. Back home Mum would buy flour, eggs, milk, butter and sugar and make a cake. That required mixing it all in a bowl and if you didn't seriously **** your mum off, you got to lick out the bowl. By magic, about an hour later, a cake had appeared and you could eat it in front of a black and white television watching cartoons that consisted of Tom and Jerry, Popeye and Huckleberry Hound. Live action was Sea Hunt, Whirlybirds, the Lone Ranger and Ivanhoe. And at dinner you ate what was on your plate. All of it. Or you got a clout from the old man. Books, comics (The Eagle), bird watching and playing with bonfires. These were things you did when there was nothing on the telly (yes it closed down every afternoon). We made bows and arrows, trollies (soapbox carts). Finding a discarded pram was a dream - rip off the axles, few bits of wood and nails and we’d race down the hills when having a race wasn't seen as being politically incorrect. Speaking of which we collected Robinsons jam golliwog stickers. In the hot summers we would collect grasshoppers and burn ants with a magnifying glass and drink triangle jublees that took hours to drink. We built rafts on the river near Mansbridge using wood and five gallon cans that always seemed to be available. Happy days

So it’s true. Lance has decided it is time to return. "I'm going to try and win an eighth Tour de France,” he told Vanity Fair magazine according to AP. AP go on to say that “Armstrong's close friend and longtime team director, Johan Bruyneel, now with team Astana, sent a text message to the AP declining comment. “But there are no guarantees Astana will race the 2009 Tour. Race officials kept the team out this year because of previous doping violations. Tour director Christian Prudhomme did not return messages seeking comment on Armstrong's decision.”

I see it is being reported that Lance Armstrong is to come out of retirement to compete at the 2009 Tour de France. According to VeloNews, Armstrong will compete in the Amgen Tour of California, the Paris-Nice, the Tour of Georgia and the Dauphine-Libere, in addition to Le Tour and that he will ride for Astana. According to Reuters and AP, Astana say he is not joining them. In fact I've heard rumours that Sastre is leaving CSC Saxo Bank at the end of this season and that Astana may be calling although with Contador, Leipheimer and Kloden on their books I can't see room for Sastre. The U.S. Anti-Doping Agency confirmed Armstrong is part of its out-of-competition testing pool and would be eligible for elite competition on Feb. 1, 2009. The Amgen Tour of California begins Feb. 14. It would throw the cat among the pigeons. I was looking forward to an Andy Schleck/Cadel Evans/Alberto Contador contest next year (along perhaps with Valverde). So if it is true, a Lance come back - good thing or bad, and which team should he go to.

You lived in a lake. I'd have sold my sister for that sort of luxury, and hot gravel - that's haute cuisine is that. We had to live in a leper colony and only ate at Christmas if we managed to catch a mouse int trap. For heat, Dad used to suck a polo mint every third Thursday of the month and all fouteen of us would gather round with our frostbitten ands out to catch some of the warmth. Then we'd show subserviance to the master by crawling 47 miles to work in nowt but our hand me down knickers to work for 23 and half hours a day for a halfpenny a lifetime. We we thought we were lucky. Tell the kids that today and they wont believe yer.

I am long time Steelers man and am looking forward to this year. We've had a solid pre season with three out of four wins. I think the bookies have us varying from 20-1 to 33-1 for the Superbowl. I don't think we will make that this year, but I do think we will have a winning season. Good luck to everyone for the season.

Portsmouth have signed Algerian defender Nadir Belhadj from Lens on a season-long loan

Sorry if this has already been posted but in case it has not: http://www.dailyecho.co.uk/display.var.2435137.0.mick_channon_and_son_injured_in_car_crash.php

A magician worked on a cruise ship. The audience was different each week so the magician did the same tricks over and over again. There was only one problem: The captain's parrot saw the shows each week and began to understand how the magician did every trick. Once he understood, he started shouting in the middle of the show, "Look, It's not the same hat!" or, "Look, he's hiding the flowers under the table!" or "Hey, why are all the cards the ace of spades?" The magician was furious but couldn't do anything. It was, after all, the Captain's' parrot. Then one stormy night on the Pacific, the ship unfortunately sank, drowning almost all who were on board. The magician luckily found himself on a piece of wood floating in the middle of the sea, as fate would have it ... with the parrot. They stared at each other with hatred, but did not utter a word. This went on for a day... and then 2 days ... and then 3 days. Finally on the 4th day, the parrot could not hold back any longer and said... "OK, I give up. Where's the effin ship?"

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/2628415/Civilians-given-power-to-issue-on-the-spot-fines.html Would you want this job? It would be like wearing a badge that says punch me very hard in the kisser because, you know what, that is gonna happen. I can see that the government are trying to do something about dog sh*t and littering, and cycling on pavements - but will this work? I wonder. How are we supposed to check that this little badge is genuine or that the bearer is who they say they are? How long will it take the yoof to start making these badges and use them to go about their business of robbing law abiding citizens. As for the bike bit. A year or so ago I was having lunch in Yates overlooking Above Bar. Two coppers standing there and one is almost hit by a cyclist on the pavement. Reaction – none. Over the next ten minutes I counted nine cyclists on the pavement riding past Southampton’s finest, and three others on the road going through red lights. Police reaction – zero. I can fully appreciate that the roads can be very dangerous and some car drivers are not clever when it comes to bikes, but that is no excuse for putting pedestrians in a dangerous situation on pavements – even if those pedestrians are rozzers from the central police station. So the government have obviously realised like me that when it comes to doing anything about cycling on pavements, the boys in blue give you the square root of f*ck all . So they have come up with this new scheme. Here is a radical idea, lets not have these new officials, lets give the job to those who were supposed to do it the first place – the old Bill and make them enforce it. Give them targets to achieve like they do for everything else. Tell the Chief Constable that he can keep 90 per cent of the fines and every cop in the county will be handing out fines for riding on the pavement, littering and dog messing by the end of the week.

Ah but like the swimmers I am enter my sitting in front of the box in a number of categorise. eating crisps, eating pizza, chinese takeaway, etc. then there is the lager section, wine class, the guinness event etc. Easy peazy.

Before it all started, I thought - this is going to be a bloody great yawn, and I happy to say that I was wrong. But why are our athletes so damn awful. Sombody will run a PB and come dead last in the first heat, so whay is that person there? And why has it occurred to nobody that there are simply far too many swimming events? It's no coincidence that the two athletes with the most gold medals in history, Phelps and Spitz, are both swimmers. Not surprising, when they can do the 100 metres freestyle, the 100 metres freestyle with their eyes shut, the 200 metres freestyle with their fingers crossed, the 200 metres while ordering a pint of lager ... and then there's all the other strokes. You get my drift. They could quite easily do the same thing with cycling or rowing or sailing. Why don't they? Why is there no cycling event for tandems, or for bikes with one of those little kiddy seats on the back? Or unicycles? And why is there show-jumping? Every other event involves people, so why is this one discipline open to animals? If animals are to be admitted, what about dog-sledding, pigeon-racing, horse racing, snail derbies etc.? Let's face it. If running around on a big mat waving a bit of ribbon about is a sport, then just about anything can be. I intend to compete for the sitting in front of the box eating crisps and drinking lots of booze in 2012. I have started training and my PB will not put me in last place.

I work in Media Operations from the other side - Press and Public Relations. We set up media facilities and events as well as writing articles for newspapers and magazines, facilitating televison production both news and features etc. My work has taken me around the globe. I have met and interviewed on a one-to-one basis famous politicians, sportsmen, writers, actors and soldiers. So do consider this area too. In many ways it is the best of both worlds.