If ever we needed confirmation that Sulaiman al Fahim doesn't have the necessary funds to push Pompey on to great things it comes with news we are interested in signing Kevin Prince-Boateng and Nyron Nosworthy.
Not only are they unlikely to set Fratton Park alight, but the reason for their intended purchase is clearly to recoup money via the names fans have put on the back of their shirts at £1 per letter.
It is surely then only a matter of time before we see Pompey linked with a move for Jan Venegoor of Hessellink...
Friday, August 28, 2009
Sales are down
I received a press release today about the launch of Chelsea striker Didier Drogba's autobiography.
Apparently in Waterstone's, in Charing Cross Road, there was a huge pile of the books that suddenly fell over and collapsed to the ground with nobody anywhere near them. Spooky or what...
Apparently in Waterstone's, in Charing Cross Road, there was a huge pile of the books that suddenly fell over and collapsed to the ground with nobody anywhere near them. Spooky or what...
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Sold... to the man who looks like Peter Kay
So the UNICEF ambassador, Dr Sulaiman al Fahim - who apparently is neither a doctor nor a UNICEF ambassador - has finally taken over at Portsmouth FC.
Funny how he could rush the funds through when a rival consortium appeared on the horizon.
One wonders what effect his sudden reappearance will have on the staff, not least the seven-figure-salaried chief executive, Peter Storrie, who was leading 'the other consortium'.
There's never a dull moment down at Fratton Park. Heaven knows what will happen next now the world's only skint Arab billionaire is in charge...
Funny how he could rush the funds through when a rival consortium appeared on the horizon.
One wonders what effect his sudden reappearance will have on the staff, not least the seven-figure-salaried chief executive, Peter Storrie, who was leading 'the other consortium'.
There's never a dull moment down at Fratton Park. Heaven knows what will happen next now the world's only skint Arab billionaire is in charge...
Strictly disappointing
Don't laugh, but I'm quite keen on Strictly Come Dancing. Where I work, we're all desperate to get our hands on some tickets to see a show, or at least we have been previously.
The new batch of celebrities has been announced for the 2009 incarnation of the show and, personally, I'm a little underwhelmed.
I imagined that the show was now so popular all the big names would want to participate, a little like the Morecambe & Wise Show in the 70s. In truth the 2009 line-up is C-list at best - indeed the biggest names taking part are now the dancers themselves. What a disappointment.
One can only assume that 'big-name' celebrities are either too busy or reluctant to allow the general public to see the 'real' them. What a shame. Strictly is a great show but it does need a little real celeb sparkle, at least initially.
This year, my favourites are likely to be BBC sports presenter Chris Hollins and Ola Jordan; Laila Rouass (despite the fact I've never heard of her) and Anton du Beke, because he's a top bloke; Darren Bennett and Lynda Bellingham, because I've fancied her since I was a kid; or the ex-wife of a celebrity, Jo Wood, and her partner Strictly 'bad boy' Brendan Cole, because I interviewed him recently and, off-set, he's a different, very affable guy.
When the show was launched a few years ago, our company was representing then world darts champion Andy Fordham, and the show's production company wanted him to participate. We thought it would be a great opportunity for him, but he declined. Given his subsequent health scares it was probably a good decision, but he would certainly have been the John Sergeant of his day.
For 2010, I'd like to volunteer the services of a fat blogger and journalist; I'm even more of a non-entity than those taking part this year so I should fit the bill.
The new batch of celebrities has been announced for the 2009 incarnation of the show and, personally, I'm a little underwhelmed.
I imagined that the show was now so popular all the big names would want to participate, a little like the Morecambe & Wise Show in the 70s. In truth the 2009 line-up is C-list at best - indeed the biggest names taking part are now the dancers themselves. What a disappointment.
One can only assume that 'big-name' celebrities are either too busy or reluctant to allow the general public to see the 'real' them. What a shame. Strictly is a great show but it does need a little real celeb sparkle, at least initially.
This year, my favourites are likely to be BBC sports presenter Chris Hollins and Ola Jordan; Laila Rouass (despite the fact I've never heard of her) and Anton du Beke, because he's a top bloke; Darren Bennett and Lynda Bellingham, because I've fancied her since I was a kid; or the ex-wife of a celebrity, Jo Wood, and her partner Strictly 'bad boy' Brendan Cole, because I interviewed him recently and, off-set, he's a different, very affable guy.
When the show was launched a few years ago, our company was representing then world darts champion Andy Fordham, and the show's production company wanted him to participate. We thought it would be a great opportunity for him, but he declined. Given his subsequent health scares it was probably a good decision, but he would certainly have been the John Sergeant of his day.
For 2010, I'd like to volunteer the services of a fat blogger and journalist; I'm even more of a non-entity than those taking part this year so I should fit the bill.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Jeffrey Bernard's not the only one
I've been quiet, sorry. Or, depending on your perspective, I'm back, sorry.
I've been ill. Just 24 hours before I was due to fly away on a well-deserved family holiday to Rhodes I was diagnosed with cellulitis in my right leg. Naturally, I was unable to fly so whole damned thing had to be cancelled.
I then spent more than a week with my leg elevated and, as I don't use a laptop, I could not get anywhere near a PC to add to the blog.
However, that doesn't mean to say nothing stirred my juices while I was inactive. I had a lot of time to reflect on all manner of things, so here, in no particular order, are some of them.
Caster Semanya: you don't say... There have been some butch female athletes down the years - I think back to the days of Jarmila Kratochvilova, when, even as a single fella, I wouldn't have touched her with Sergey Bubka's - but young Caster's 16-second improvement in a year needs to be examined carefully. As does 18-year-old Caster for that matter. Forget all the "how dare they" liberals out there, something just isn't right.
The West Wing: Lying in bed or sitting in a recliner all day is mighty tedious. But thankfully I had the fourth series of TWW to view on DVD. What a stunning programme - and why is it that we can't produce drama of similar quality over here. The best TV shows I've seen in recent years have all come out of the US: The West Wing, The Sopranos, Heroes . . . all first-rate dramas. And what does Britain offer the world? The Romantics? All sex and no substance; numerous reality TV programmes which simply aren't worth the dock leaves with which they wipe their celebrity backsides; and third-rate comedies - My Family for example, has enjoyed nine series, which is more than I have. Like Last of the Summer Wine, it appears to go on and on without ever producing a laugh - surely a prerequisite for a comedy?
I will admit, though, that there have been one or two decent programmes produced in the UK recently, though they tend to be in the fields where we excel: documentaries or sci-fi.
I really enjoy Coast, and Torchwood is top-notch. Top Gear is hugely entertaining if you enjoy seeing middle-aged blokes acting like kids in a sweet-shop and Would I Lie to You? maintains our fine tradition of humorous panel games. But don't even get me started on soap operas or the likes of X Factor...
And daytime TV really is pants!
Football: I'm trying not to care about Pompey's plight. Trying not to care that we're becoming a joke; trying not to care that we appear to be nailed-on certs for relegation according to all the 'experts'; and trying not to care that every time 'Portsmouth' is mentioned in the national press it is prefixed by 'crisis club'.
And it has to be said, I'm doing quite well in not caring. I've already resigned myself to a season of struggle and I don't feel too bad about it. And what's the worst that can happen? Relegation? I'm not sure the Premiership is the place for proper football fans any more anyway. It's such a sanitised experience in the top flight nowadays. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
The Ashes: I really don't give a ****! I hate cricket with the same passion I normally reserve for racists or people who can eat cream cakes without fretting about the effect on their waistline.
Pub quiz: I'm part of a team called Jammy's Dodgers which participates in the fortnightly quiz in the White Hart pub in Petersfield - or at least I was. During my enforced absence they roped in another hack friend of mine and won quite convincingly. I feel like Phil Jagielka must have felt as Everton played in last season's FA Cup final . . . except of course Everton lost, and he was sorely missed. I am trying not to care though.
Abdelbaset al-Megrahi: Seldom do I find myself agreeing with the knee-jerk, gun-toting parochial populace of the mighty US of A, particularly when it touches on foreign policy, but every dog has its day.
What possible motive could we have for releasing this guy? Compassion? Do me a favour. Where was his compassion when he planted the bomb? He should have been left to die in his cell; he would have received good medical care to his dying breath.
The only spin the UK Government can put on this is that a) we no longer have to foot the bill for his incarceration; and b) he won't die a martyr in an infidel jail cell. If that justifies his release and subsequent hero's welcome back home then I'm in the same corner as our American cousins against the black pudding-eating soft-on-terror surrender monkeys - or whatever they choose to call us.
Jessica Ennis: Dontcha just love her...? Now if they need somebody to carry out a gender test on her I'm up for the challenge.
I've been ill. Just 24 hours before I was due to fly away on a well-deserved family holiday to Rhodes I was diagnosed with cellulitis in my right leg. Naturally, I was unable to fly so whole damned thing had to be cancelled.
I then spent more than a week with my leg elevated and, as I don't use a laptop, I could not get anywhere near a PC to add to the blog.
However, that doesn't mean to say nothing stirred my juices while I was inactive. I had a lot of time to reflect on all manner of things, so here, in no particular order, are some of them.
Caster Semanya: you don't say... There have been some butch female athletes down the years - I think back to the days of Jarmila Kratochvilova, when, even as a single fella, I wouldn't have touched her with Sergey Bubka's - but young Caster's 16-second improvement in a year needs to be examined carefully. As does 18-year-old Caster for that matter. Forget all the "how dare they" liberals out there, something just isn't right.
The West Wing: Lying in bed or sitting in a recliner all day is mighty tedious. But thankfully I had the fourth series of TWW to view on DVD. What a stunning programme - and why is it that we can't produce drama of similar quality over here. The best TV shows I've seen in recent years have all come out of the US: The West Wing, The Sopranos, Heroes . . . all first-rate dramas. And what does Britain offer the world? The Romantics? All sex and no substance; numerous reality TV programmes which simply aren't worth the dock leaves with which they wipe their celebrity backsides; and third-rate comedies - My Family for example, has enjoyed nine series, which is more than I have. Like Last of the Summer Wine, it appears to go on and on without ever producing a laugh - surely a prerequisite for a comedy?
I will admit, though, that there have been one or two decent programmes produced in the UK recently, though they tend to be in the fields where we excel: documentaries or sci-fi.
I really enjoy Coast, and Torchwood is top-notch. Top Gear is hugely entertaining if you enjoy seeing middle-aged blokes acting like kids in a sweet-shop and Would I Lie to You? maintains our fine tradition of humorous panel games. But don't even get me started on soap operas or the likes of X Factor...
And daytime TV really is pants!
Football: I'm trying not to care about Pompey's plight. Trying not to care that we're becoming a joke; trying not to care that we appear to be nailed-on certs for relegation according to all the 'experts'; and trying not to care that every time 'Portsmouth' is mentioned in the national press it is prefixed by 'crisis club'.
And it has to be said, I'm doing quite well in not caring. I've already resigned myself to a season of struggle and I don't feel too bad about it. And what's the worst that can happen? Relegation? I'm not sure the Premiership is the place for proper football fans any more anyway. It's such a sanitised experience in the top flight nowadays. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
The Ashes: I really don't give a ****! I hate cricket with the same passion I normally reserve for racists or people who can eat cream cakes without fretting about the effect on their waistline.
Pub quiz: I'm part of a team called Jammy's Dodgers which participates in the fortnightly quiz in the White Hart pub in Petersfield - or at least I was. During my enforced absence they roped in another hack friend of mine and won quite convincingly. I feel like Phil Jagielka must have felt as Everton played in last season's FA Cup final . . . except of course Everton lost, and he was sorely missed. I am trying not to care though.
Abdelbaset al-Megrahi: Seldom do I find myself agreeing with the knee-jerk, gun-toting parochial populace of the mighty US of A, particularly when it touches on foreign policy, but every dog has its day.
What possible motive could we have for releasing this guy? Compassion? Do me a favour. Where was his compassion when he planted the bomb? He should have been left to die in his cell; he would have received good medical care to his dying breath.
The only spin the UK Government can put on this is that a) we no longer have to foot the bill for his incarceration; and b) he won't die a martyr in an infidel jail cell. If that justifies his release and subsequent hero's welcome back home then I'm in the same corner as our American cousins against the black pudding-eating soft-on-terror surrender monkeys - or whatever they choose to call us.
Jessica Ennis: Dontcha just love her...? Now if they need somebody to carry out a gender test on her I'm up for the challenge.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Who took the Pomp out of Pompey?
I spent a great day with the wife and kids yesterday doing the sort of things we Brits love to do on a hot day: beach, swimming and home for a barbecue (in this case back to my in-laws).
It was a very pleasant way to spend a Sunday and was tarnished only by a question from my father-in-law, Colin, who asked: "What's happening at Pompey?"
If the chief executive of the club is clueless about the current state of things, as a mere fan I can only hypothesise.
What I do know is that rumours that the demise of Portsmouth Football Club have been greatly exaggerated . . . have been greatly exaggerated.
We're currently anywhere between financial security and the verge of administration, depending on which national newspaper you take.
What is obvious to all, however, is that Pompey's squad currently resembles the school playground after the captains have had their picks. We're left with the fat kid, the speccy kid, the one who'd rather be playing chess in the library and a token girl.
Bottom line is that it doesn't look too healthy. Maybe a new kid will move to the school just in time to act as our saviour. . .
It was a very pleasant way to spend a Sunday and was tarnished only by a question from my father-in-law, Colin, who asked: "What's happening at Pompey?"
If the chief executive of the club is clueless about the current state of things, as a mere fan I can only hypothesise.
What I do know is that rumours that the demise of Portsmouth Football Club have been greatly exaggerated . . . have been greatly exaggerated.
We're currently anywhere between financial security and the verge of administration, depending on which national newspaper you take.
What is obvious to all, however, is that Pompey's squad currently resembles the school playground after the captains have had their picks. We're left with the fat kid, the speccy kid, the one who'd rather be playing chess in the library and a token girl.
Bottom line is that it doesn't look too healthy. Maybe a new kid will move to the school just in time to act as our saviour. . .
* Am I the only one who thinks Dr Sulaiman Al Fahim looks a lot like Peter Kay? Let's hope his proposed takeover is not his latest spoof Channel 4 show . . .
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Everything comes to those who wait?
I'm bored. It's 7.10pm and I'm at Nailcote Hall, Solihull, waiting to interview a few celebrities who've just come off the course in the British Par-3 Championship event.
All these interviews should have been over hours ago, but the event overran and the young lady who was supposed to have 'arranged' everything for me seems to have disappeared.
I'm now sat in the library waiting - probably in vain - for Steve Cram, Jasper Carrott and Peter Schmeichel to be brought through.
I suspect the three of them have no idea there's a fat bloke wasting away waiting for them . . .
It's now 10 ten minutes later. I was right. They didn't. Jasper and Peter are here tomorrow I'm told. Why don't you see them tomorrow? And Steve Cram's in the bar.
"Does he know I want to speak to him?" I ask the PR girl.
"No idea," she says. "But he's here somewhere." So saying, she turns away before I get the chance to suggest she might be in the wrong job.
I've decided to go back to my hotel then meet up with a mate who works locally as a real PR consultant. I think I'll suggest I know where he can find a new client . . .
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