Toon's crazy gang turns mentally ill...

We'll get onto the soap that is North Eastenders in a minute.

But first I've got some nervous energy to get rid of.

Lancashire pride is at stake today. Preston come to Turf Moor for what should be a great game.

With Preston third in the table it’s vital we turn over North End to ensure those all important bragging rights.

I’m sat here typing away waiting for three o’clock to come...and it's taking it's time.

I've wathed this about times now...









A repeat of that night would be just the ticket.

But I cant't help thinking of last season at the Turf, when Preston came out on top after Burnley had Chris McCann sent off and we should've had a pentalty in the opening minutes.

"I thought I heard Stevie Wonder in the stands shouting for a penalty" was the response from Owen Coyle.

Lets all pray for a strong refereeing display and three points come 5 o'clock.

To take my mind off it, lets cast our minds back to yesterday...

...Is it just me or did Pat Butcher forget to put her make-up on when she took the Newcastle job?

No, of course not, Joe Kinnear’s back in football.

With Mike Ashley’s strict policy of only appointing managers who haven’t been in the game for three years or more he was the obvious choice really wasn’t he?

Rumour has it Joe fought off late bids from Frank Clark, Mike Walker and Christian Gross for the job.

It’s been revealed a total of seventeen managers have turned down the interim job of running team affairs at Newcastle.

Terry Venables revealed he said no this week, while David O'Leary, Glenn Hoddle and Alan Curbishley have all been said to have politely declined.

Apparently even Mike Basset turned it down.

Things seem to have got pretty desperate down at St. James’.

Which is in no disrespect to Mr.Kinnear but the fact that no supposed high profile figure would entertain taking it speaks volumes.

There seems to be so few managers in the frame it would not surprise me to learn that Kinnear only got the job after some strange voodoo attempts by Ashley and Wise at the grave of Brian Clough had failed to revive ol' big 'ed from the dead.

Although if they could bring Cloughy back from beyond the grave I'm not exactly sure he'd be up for working with the cockney mafia.

I hope the fans give Joe their support as he's an honest bloke who knows what he's there to do. He's not trying to fool anyone but just attempt to do what must be an incredibly difficult job.

Its a good job he's not their for long...I doubt his heart could take it. Then again, I don't think mine could either.

It just seems more and more obvious that Mike Ashley learnt how to run a football club by watching old re-runs of Dream Team on Sky One.

Maybe he should just put the linesman that gave “phantom” goal at Vicarage Road last weekend in charge of decision making.

Or perhaps he should dust off the old magic 8 ball he used when appointing Dennis Wise.

Never has the phrase “if you had a brain you’d be dangerous” been so apt than in the case of Mike Ashley.

But speaking of goals that should never have been, the ones Carlos Tevez scored for West Ham during his “ineligible” flirtation as a player at Upton Park have been hitting the headlines again.

Despite all the controversy and wrongdoing by the Hammers, I can’t help not feeling much sympathy for Sheffield United.

In all the years leading up to their year in the Premiership Neil Warnock schemed, bullied and cheated his way to promotion.

His antics in 2001 when he sent his then assistant Kevin Blackwell to listen to a half time team talk from behind the door of the Burnley dressing room is just one instance of the mans attitude.

And although ol' big ego may have gone, it’s that reputation he’s left behind. The one that still seems to remain at the club which makes me feel little sorrow for their plight.

I’m not saying they shouldn’t have their money but the way you conduct yourself in certain situations often determines the outcome.

So like most crying, screaming toddlers, they might one day get their way.

SB

P.S I've gone a bit YouTube crazy this morning...I hope you will enjoy this brilliant Sheff Utd/Hitler video as much as me.




Come on You Clarets!

Funny girls, naughty school kids and a burka...

Well, well, well…

I feel like a naughty school kid handing in my homework a day late.

Internet connection problems means Das Football like most premiership games these days comes to a Sunday.

I’ve had to re-write the article that was meant to be published yesterday which contained several references on how bad Blackpool were against Burnley on Tuesday.

And they were, Wade Elliot might as well have slapped a “kiss me quick” hat firmly on Mo Camara’s head as time after time he made him look as daft as Bloomfield Road.

I’m sure if Simon Grayson had fielded a first eleven from Funny Girls that night they would’ve put up more of a fight…

…actually, of course they would, at least a team from Funny Girls would’ve had balls.

But the tangerines came up trumps yesterday with a surprising and rather brilliant win over Birmingham while the Clarets were held to a one all draw after a ridiculously late Swansea equaliser.

So maybe I’ll save the gloating for Preston next week? Or just not bother.

Ok, now where was I?

Oh yes, naughty school kids.

Don’t worry, I haven’t gone all Gary Glitter on you but I’m talking about the way Sir Alex Ferguson tried to make Keith Hackett feel this week.

Arguing the toss over the rescinding of what wasn’t a red card anyway was maybe a slight deflection away from United’s poor start to the season.

So whether Keith Hackett has a John Terry poster on his bedroom wall or not the Chelsea skipper will be lining up against Man Yoo today whether the demon headmaster likes it or not.

What else has happened this week?

Of course, the Newcastle saga rumbles on and apparently now the fans want to buy their club.

The general consensus seems to be that if enough Geordies all put in a grand then they can buy the club and handle affairs themselves.

It’s bad enough one bloke running that club, never mind three hundred thousand.

I can’t help seeing the image of a ground full of fans all sporting “9 CHAIRMAN” on their replica shirts.

To be fair though, they couldn’t have done a worse job than cartoon owner Mike Ashley.

The papers this morning suggest that Ashley may have lost a small fortune (around £300 million) by attempting to invest in HBOS.

Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bloke could it?

Ashley reminds me of working class lottery winner, a kind of yuppie version of Mikey Carroll.

I imagine his vast estate to contain dirt tracks, burnt out Vauxhall Nova’s, fires burning in disused oil drums and junkyard dogs chained up waiting to ravage any disgruntled King Kev supporters that may attempt a break in.

In his shirt and tie he has the demeanour of a satanic David Brent. The classic loosened tie and “I’m richer than you but I’m still one of the lads” attitude provides the perfect combination for immediate contempt.

While I type Ashley is probably sporting a Keffiyeh headdress as he drags his knuckles around the Middle East in his Newcastle shirt looking for someone to buy him out.

Although if he’s ever to wander round St. James Park again then might I suggest he wear a Burka.

SB

Thats a book-thing.

“I would rather be a travelling salesman, sell cakes in the fair, than remain at the club'"

No not the whimsical words of a Kevin Keegan but those of Robinho as he made his way from Spanish Giants Real Madrid to somewhere I don’t think he’s even quite sure of yet.

By the time he works out he’s at Manchester City he’ll be firmly involved in the battle of the billionaires as city welcome the Russians to Middle Eastlands on Saturday.

It’s certainly going to be a baptism of fire for the Brazilian as I’m sure he’s likely to be earmarked for a certain “special treatment” that’s normally only reserved for Noel Gallagher by Canadians these days.

Then there’s the row between Fergie and Rafa over each others spending. Like two women bickering over dresses, the two divas have been sniping over the cost of each others star players.

Fergie says Robbie Keane was far too much, while Rafa hit back by saying having Nani, Hargreaves and Tevez, a mere £70 million worth of talent all on the bench in their last encounter makes Sir Alex somewhat of a hypocrite.

The big girls.

In other news, Robbie Keane has been robbed. No not of his lovely missus, by me, but of his possessions from his Merseyside pad.

The spate of recent break-ins targetting Liverpool players does little to enhance the image of the stereotypical scouser does it?!

And speaking of scousers, let’s talk about Jamie Carragher’s “no holds barred” autobiography.

A player (or manager for that matter- not forgetting you David O'Leary) speaking out about ongoing issues at their club in hardback while still under contract can be seen as nothing more than an arrogant pursuit of book sales.

Carragher may have made some valid points over the row between Rafa and the Yankee owners of Liverpool but why do players insist on not waiting until the end of their careers to speak on such incidents?

He claims that the two sides washed their dirty linen in public…but what has publishing his opinions on the matter done?

As a long serving member of the club and vice captain he should have more respect for the club that has made him a multi millionaire no matter who owns it or manages the team.

It seems that because of the strict lifestyle most footballers adhere to these days- the great anecdotes and wild stories from the “good old days” are so few and far between that the only way to shift a few copies of a book is to throw integrity out of the window.

Carragher says Anfield was beginning to resemble a laundrette, but surely by publicising the issue Jamie’s added his own load to the Anfield Washbowl...at a recommended retail price of £18.99.

SB

Give me an international break...

Well we really have seen it all this week…new Arab money, crazy transfer dealings, shock manager “resignations” and some old bird getting the boys from Westlife tattooed across her back.

The world has almost certainly gone mad.

The week began as it normally does, with a Monday. With the transfer window just hours away from closure it was set to be a routine exercise. For many it was simply a case of one or two last minute deals to patch up holes in paperweight squads.

Then all of a sudden, up pop some crazy Arabs at Manchester City faster than it takes Mike Ashley to down a pint.

Out of nowhere, big money bids were being made for the likes of Berbatov, Torres and Robinho.

Of course the Torres bid as rebuffed, while United’s Dark Knight Sir Alex Ferguson turned up in his Batmobile at Manchester Airport to whisk the Bulgarian off to Old Trafford.

But why was Berbatov under Fergie’s blanket?

Was it the cold weather in Manchester? Or maybe some strange, cultish United initiation ceremony? Or perhaps the strongest analogy to date that when it comes to transfers, modern day footballers are treated like dogs- with the Bulgarian shoved in the boot of Fergie’s Bentley with nothing but a blanket and a squeaky toy….

…but if that were true the new number 9 would be sporting a flashy diamond encrusted collar by now.

Eventually after a long hard day for Sky Sports News reporters the deadline came and it was Brazilian star Robinho who joined the joined the world’s newest richest club.

I’m sure that for City fans the news is even more exciting than Frank Sinartra rising from the dead to bring in international sex-pot Sven Goran Eriksson as manager.

But for those, like me, who support clubs like Burnley in the Championship, the billionaire boys club the Premiership is quickly becoming is further evidence that the game has firmly become detached from its roots.

After Monday I did not feel joy at yet more money and promise of big name world stars in England…I felt quite sad, that the slim dream of the Clarets one day competing, albeit in the lower echelons of the top division, was now about as far fetched as an X-Factor sob story.

But can it work? Can City gatecrash the top four?

It will only make this new investment interesting if they can.

However I firmly believe any power shift cannot happen unless City can persuade a Fabregas, Ronaldo or Torres to switch allegiances from one of the big four to “Middle Eastlands.”

The day that happens is the day things start to hot up in the Premiership.

So Monday ended and Tuesday began…

…and with the dust still settling from the transfer window, something of Biblical proportions was about to happen.

The news came through on the wire…had the Messiah really been taken to the slaughter?

Report’s emerging from inside the dungeons of St James Park was that Kevin Keegan had gone.

Whether he’d resigned, been sacked or magically disappeared through the fog on the Tyne nobody knew.

It was utter frenzy…a state of confusion, fear and nausea loomed round the Toon.

Who do you call to solve such a mystery?

With Morse, Ironside and Scooby Doo and the Gang all unavailable, it was left up to those canny old hacks at Sky Sports.

And after 48 hours of fervent forensic analysis taking place it was eventually discovered that Keegan had in fact resigned stating differences over transfer policy.

And with that lovable rogue Dennis Wise in charge of the decision making in that department who can blame him.

Taking transfers decisions out of the hands of managers seems to be a trend in the modern day game.

And perhaps in some instances it may work, but if it was Ashley’s intention all along to employ a technical director then why bring back a man who’s prone to more fits of emotion than Elton John.

This saga only ever had one winner- and not for the first time, it wasn’t King Kev.

By employing Wise after stating Keegan was the man to take the club forward, Ashley may as well of pulled down Kevin’s trousers and spanked his bottom in the club shop window.

It was utter lunacy.

And Keegan is not the only lucky loser in all of this – spare a thought for the Geordie faithful.

They may think their bigger than they are but since Keegan took over there have been small glimpses of hope.

An up and down season may have been in order, but Keegan was beginning to build a team that on the occasional Saturday, as their opening day fixture against Man Utd proved, could perhaps upset the applecart.

There’s no doubt footballs lost one its genuine characters with Keegan’s departure, but you can’t help thinking it would have been better if Ashley picked a different replica shirt from one of his many sports shops and spent his money elsewhere.

Although to be frank, no club deserves to have their hero, their legend, their messiah made a mockery of right under their noses.

Will they revolt? Will they boycott the game or burn effigies of Ashley? Who knows…But one thinks for certain, there will be at least one extra spare seat in the home end on match days.

And as if we couldn’t take anymore…Alan Curbishley went from West Ham as well.

Poor old Alan, who’d established the greatest squad of permanently injured footballers on the planet resigned from his post on Wednesday.

Again transfer dealings were at the centre of the controversy. This time it was over the issue of George McCartney moving to Sunderland.

“Curbs” was apparently angry at the sale of one of his fitter players and decided enough was enough.

Is this going to be the new trend that comes with having the transfer window?

At the end of every business portal just how many casualities will we have?

It's just madness…it leaves me wondering what will happen come January?

Will Roy Keane resign after being told he Spurs don’t have any reserve players left for him to buy?

Will Mark Hughes resign after failing with a £700 million pound bid for Roque Santa Cruz?

Or will Paul Ince fall on his sword, realising that after signing Robbie Fowler- convincing the rest of the spice boys to give it one last go in the Premiership was a bad idea?

We will wait and see.

Well that brings us to the end of a rather frantic week in football.

And at the end of it, what could be better than an England World Cup Qualifier?

The joy…

SB