Guwuffle wins x 88.

Words to add to the killy list: bezzie, burny.[/color]

I didn't quite clock what he had said at first, it was the last thing in the world that I had ever expected to hear. I didn't get him his 7up, I just went and explained what happened to my supervisor, and said that I wasn't upset or angry or anything, I just thought I should say. He got someone else to serve him, and said that they would keep an eye on him and his group, and would kick them out if anything else happened.

The only thing that upsets me about this story Lewie was that if the customer was white, and the serving person black, and the customer said 'Get me a 7-up, nigger', I'm in no doubt that the customer would have been thrown out and very possibly the police called.

That's assuming 'cracker' is antonymous to 'nigger' as a racial slur.

I've only been to the odeon at the trafford centre a couple of times. On one of those I walked out after 5 minutes and demanded a refund. The whole place is chock full of bloody scallies

I now go to the printworks odeon instead, chavs can't afford the Gallery.

I now go to the printworks odeon instead, chavs can't afford the Gallery.

Our local Odeon does assigned seating. So we never go there. Also, all the screens are tiny.

Same, I watched Rocknrolla (not particularly good) in the gallery on Sunday, but then the jalapeños on the nachos made me ill...

Same, I watched Rocknrolla (not particularly good) in the gallery on Sunday, but then the jalapeños on the nachos made me ill...

It needed Vinnie Jones.


Ok, that was sarcastic. It had some funny moments, but a whole bunch of filler, and it was no way near as clever as it liked to think it was.

And the set up for the sequel was a real spit in the eye.

Are you Rudi Voller or Frank Rijkaard?

I thought this was supposed to be fun?

Now, anyone who knows me, knows I'm not exactly a shrinking violet in the mouth department. In fact, I'm bloody competitive, too competitive in fact. But I'm simultaneously proud and embarassed by what went on tonight.

I play football every week, with a few mates in an organised league. To be frank, we're out of our depth most weeks, I can hold my own, a couple of others can, but to be brutal a couple of us can't. But we turn up, get beat, enjoy ourselves, feel a bit fitter and go home. The pitch is fully enclosed by boards, so the ball is always in motion, no passes over head height, keep on your feet at all times. That sort of thing.

One of the teams in our league, ISS Pros, we have played three times, including tonight. The previous two occasions, we've had our players assaulted on the pitch. Basically, this bunch of scallies - and they typify scallies - can hand it out in spades, but can't take it at all. I mean even breathing on them and they are bitching to the ref.

We've complained to the management about them - the pity is there are a couple of players who are far too good for this league - and after a brawl the other week, they were given a final warning. One player has been banned for headbutting and given #100 fine.

So up comes the fixture list, and we're playing ISS Pros. Great. We know what we are in for. And then the ref shows up, and to be honest, he is a terrible ref. He just won't clamp down on the rough stuff.

With ISS, there is one lad, who typifies small man syndrome. First to wade in with the elbows, and first to scream at his friends to help him get out of trouble when he gets into it. Me and him have crossed paths before. He can't deal with my mouth, I just get under his skin. And the more he loses it, the more I wind him up.

Anyway, on he trots about 10 minutes in, and I receive the ball in the corner. He came flying in, with an elbow right in the back. I held him off, but he just climbed around me. Excellent, I thought, and simply tripped him up. He put his leg out, I took it away, he went to the floor.

Free kick our way. The ref called us both over, and I keep quiet while little shit moans and groans. Ref ends the conversation with "you started it". He also tells me to keep my hands down. Fair enough...like that was the problem.

Couple more against the boards, but he has learned his lesson and I usually come away with the ball. He is getting frustrated and begins to run across and into me. I'm not exactly Mr Universe, more a life model for a Lowry painting, but I can handle him easily enough.

I've followed ice hockey for over a decade, and you don't do that without learning something. What I have learned is how to hit, and be hit, against the boards. Little Shit sees his opportunity, and goes to check me against the boards. Big mistake, I lower myself, use his momentum against him and, well, he is smeared up against the wall.

The best thing is, shoulder to shoulder contact is completely legal. Little Shits teammate comes steaming in, I avoid it, and the opposition are yelling "if you don't do something ref, I'm gonna punch him".

Bring it on, fucker.

Another chat. Little Shit moans and groans, I keep quiet. Ref has no chance to talk to me about the challenge 'cos he's too busy dealing with the opposition. The scallies on the sidelines are yelling that they'll kill me, and for some, stupid reason, I point to my shoulder to indicate a fair check.

Well, it is in hockey.

A couple of minutes later, I dispossess Little Shit once more, and play a nice ball up the left wing. And suddenly I hear "ptooey".

Alex shouts "did he do what I think he did?"

Yep, I've just been spat on, as he ran for a substitution. On comes a big guy.

Oh-oh.

I ask the ref how long left. Five minutes.

In hockey parlance, this is "drop the gloves time", when the game begins to kick off with fights. Hmmm...

I'm in total concentration now, very aware of everything around me. Enough to hear the shouts of

"Longhaired white cunt"

coming from the sidelines. Not once, but repeatedly.

Now, what am I supposed to do with that? If I shouted "Black cunt" back, then I'd have the whole lot of them jumping on me, and quite rightly so. I look at the ref. He knows. He knows I know. I know he ain't going to do a thing about it. He knows I know that, too.

OK, I've got five minutes here. And I manage to last, though a couple of elbows head my way. But I struggle through, break up a couple of attacks. I collect the ball, begin to run and realise I'm about two feet from the right boards. Big Fucker spots me and hares across the pitch.

Slow motion. It's all a matter of timing. Forget the ball, that is now irrelevant. Wait, here he comes, wait... he ain't stopping... turn to face him and keep moving...wait...and...

Spin.

180 degrees.

Blam. He goes into the boards, face first and crumples to the ground.

I'd opened up my left shoulder to him and like the big ox, he was aiming for it. Shortest path between two points. The problem - for him at least - is, I can turn on a dime. Imagine a bull and a matadors cloak, my shoulder is there one second, gone the next. And he is smeared against the boards. I did get caught, but only because my arm in the turn caught on the chickenwire.

And the ref blew for a foul on me. Bonus.

The game finishes. I shake nobodys hand. I hang around for a while, chatting to the ref, the other players. I choose my moment to go to the dressing room, without incident.

I had contributed to my own problems, and I fully admit that. But it is a red rag to a bull in my case, if someone can dish it out but not take it.

But why should I have to deal with being spat on and racially abused?

Same, I watched Rocknrolla (not particularly good) in the gallery on Sunday, but then the jalapeños on the nachos made me ill...

A review said "Richie's best film since Snatch".

I wasn't aware he'd done anything at all since Snatch except direct one of his horse-faced wife's music videos?

Lock stock first, then snatch.. but not heard of "mean machine". I assume it was another crap cockney film.

Oh. It can fuck off down the same hole as his other films then.

A review said "Richie's best film since Snatch".

I wasn't aware he'd done anything at all since Snatch except direct one of his horse-faced wife's music videos?

That film about the rubbish male strippers, and 'Brassed Off'.

I have no idea why they even bother with a London gangster film. The Long Good Friday was done in 1979 and will never, ever be bettered.

The Long Good Friday was done in 1979 and will never, ever be bettered.

Getting back to the topic at hand, I may have covered the commonly-used-but-entirely-incorrect "somewhat of" before, but basically, "somewhat" and "something of" are acceptable forms, and "somewhat of" is a silly confusing of the two which seems to have been accepted by many as the correct usage.

YEA:

"Klatrymadon is something of a stickler for syntactical correctness."
"Klatrymadon is being somewhat deliberately snobby about this sort of thing."

NAY:

"Klatrymadon is somewhat of an arse."

It's a remake of a (1960s, I think) film, with Prisoners playing Guards in a football match at a prison, with Vinny "Honestly, I'm a proper serious actor now, and everything" Jones.

Have we covered the regrettable "would/could/should of" yet?