Dare to Dream, Leicester

Regular readers will know by now that that in the great scheme of all things sport, football features pretty low down on the list. I mean, I would sooner watch show jumping than a game of soccer, but today? In the spirit of all dramas and tradition of change, I will be a footie 'fan' because plucky underdogs Leicester City are on course to deliver a grand upset and add its name to the long list of British sporting achievements. And this is a team that im reliably informed was fighting relegation last season.
Too many things are labelled "legends" and "heroes" these days but Leicester City will become one of the few genuine heroes which is a welcome pause from the shitty news this world serves up.

Leicester City were 5000 to 1 betting odds at the beginning of the season, and even when the doubters did their sour doubting thing the Foxes stayed their course to railroad through, too busy making history to be concerned with doubting Thomas mob.

Anyway enough blah blah, gp Foxes, go!

Safety Catch Off

Mr Jakes and friend in rehab

I am not a fan of Paul Gascoigne but I have been where he is in regards to drinking so he has my best wishes. However I fear this is a story that is doomed to end in tears. Footballers and celebrity friends can throw all the money they want towards rehab costs but money means NOTHING to addiction. It is worthless. It is like trying to treat cancer with wine gums and doc leaves. Believe me, and I really do not wish to dwell on negativity here, I have looked into the eyes of an alcoholic who has given up the ghost and Gascoigne has the exact same look about him. And famous friends won't help. Or their money.
In fact where on earth were these friends to allow him to get so bad? Lonliness plays a huge part in alcoholism (especially when one finally gets clean), so where was the concern over Paul then? It seems to me that unless the ex footballer is in dire needs and on death's door, his so called friends let him get on with it. They are nowhere to be seen. Of course when his flame burned brightest (Italia 1990? Im not a football fan) they flocked to his 'glow' but come the arrival of the doldrums they disappear like Dodos. This has been the saddest thing to witness for me, the empty smiles in newspapers, knowing he's probably weeping inside.
A friend of Gascoigne has said, "it could be a long road to recovery." Quite. It is the longest road of all. (Or shortest depending on how quick one is picking up a bottle again.) Money is not going to help here. It might soothe a few consciences of those who feel the pangs of guilt, but throwing money at an alcoholic who looks hellbent on drinking no matter what is pure folly. I really hope he can get sober but excuse me having mega doubts that he will. You have to want to do it but worryingly Paul looks like he doesn't. In fact he reminds me so much of the late George Best, who was another filled with promises of never drinking again, blah blah, blah and yet only stopped when it killed him.
In all of my long time as a drinker (and having had another alcoholic in the family), ive heard and seen it all, and it hurts me to say it but I know the look of the beaten. The look of a person completely surrendering to alcohol. The look of Paul Gascoigne.

Under the Surgeon's Dice

Is that you Sharon?

After seeing yet more photographs of the rich and shameless and their plastic surgery (which really ought to be rebranded as 'grotesque surgery') in todays morning papers, I can only come to the same conclusion that I always did: attempting to defy the ageing process will turn you into something resembling a cross between a Garbage Pail Kid and a Boglin (Google them if you were born after 1990.)
Are these blockheads so blinded by (a frail) vanity that they cannot see the bubbling mess in the mirror staring back at them? Can anyone be so deluded? Why of course they can, but such is the fear of losing that touch of glamour, these wealthy oiks wont ever see past the illusion of the stunning 25 year old staring back in their reflection. Key word being ILLUSION. That older, more decrepid hag, peering over the 25 year olds slender shoulders, is brushed away and foolishly ignored.
The folly of the ever greying famous is that they truly believe money is able to halt time and while they wait for the code of the grand design of immortality to be cracked, they plaster over the wrinkles with botox bulldozners and pad out their pensioners skin with crooked sounding 'stay young' procedures. I won't name and shame the worst offenders because evidently they have no shame but im hopeful one or two will stumble across the Dai Jake's Book sometime and realise the sobering truth: most folks are not dazzled by your staggering beauty or fooled by con tricks to evade old age.
No, the majority only want to look at you with morbid curiosity. Like the times we used to watch public executions and circus freaks. Sad really, but then you'll never understand that. Botox made you deaf. Enjoy your new life as a gargoyle. Toodle pip!