Normally by now I have some idea of what the ‘rant’ will be about and indeed I have a number of ideas I am working on for future weeks and have a couple of them ready to be used whenever I need to dip in to the reserves, but this week…nothing. Even the reserve episodes don’t seem appropriate for this week. I am without an idea.
Not even the derby win on Sunday is inspiring me: it was a great occasion for the city; the match itself was a typical derby, and yes I bounced and I sang and I celebrated but I would still prefer to be where United are now, 2 points ahead 2 games in hand and in second place, far more than I would prefer the win on Sunday. Maybe I am too committed to the good of the city being served by both clubs going up than the (quick adoption of the Zurg voice from Top Story) ‘destroy Sheffield United’ mentality which I have never shared.
Not even the Darks win last week is inspiring me: yes we have turned a 4 game deficit to it being evens and turned the Second Series into a maximum five game play-off thriller, but in truth I’m sorry for catching Joe as I did and I must try harder not to swear so loudly when my shirt is tugged and I’m annoyed with myself that Scouse Steve thought I had stopped for a foul by Big John when I hadn’t. Do I feel this way because of the olympian effort of getting even in games has left me drained and uncertain whether that run of results can continue or do my toenails just need cutting.
It’s very very strange: I am subdued, bereft even. The only weird fact or reference I can call on is that this week I found out that the very first bypass road in this country is what is now Marylebone Road in North London and was built in 1756, and despite finding that fascinating…1756 everyone…I am still devoid of something to say. Perhaps I have run dry, perhaps this is my difficult middle album period where I will tour more of the greatest hits than the new material which is all just too poppy and lacking integrity or a run of wafer thin rom-coms that pay well, where I would star alongside Julia Roberts but have no artistic merit: you are all as a blank white canvas staring accusingly and with angry anticipation at me and my brush is not even damp with paint. There will be no sunflowers today my friends.
And so to the pressing question, and it is not what is the average amount of fluff that a middle aged man can expect to accumulate in his belly button in a given time (but I do wish someone could answer that, it is worrying me), but who is playing this week?
I already know of Fireman Dave not being there (he’s in sunnier lands celebrating his birthday – happy birthday Dave), or Paddy (who will be recovering from a recent ankle operation – get well soon Pads), so I don’t know how many we will get this week.
Talk to me my friends, talk to me.