Tuesday 7th February: Is It Because I Is Caesar?

It is said that Julius Caesar knew he was going to die on the day he did: it is said that he knew of the plot to kill him and he did nothing to save himself.  This has perplexed scholars for generations.  Why would the most powerful man in the then known world seemingly happily go to his own death even though he had powers at his immediate disposal that would save his own life, make himself yet stronger and destroy his enemies.   It is said that the first and for many the greatest of all Caesars brought about his own downfall.  He changed his usual routine that day to make it easier for his murderers to strike him down, he changed his route to and from the forum.  He chose a new route that exposed him further to attack, he travelled without his usual entourage and bodyguard.  Some say the ancient sources hint at him being ill and therefore chose to burn out than fade away, to use a more modern vernacular.  Some say he could see the splintering of Rome that would be ultimate result of his ever increasing power and thus sacrificed himself for the glory of his beloved ideal.  Some say he could see that his adopted son Augustus would unite Rome but it would never happen whilst Caesar lived.   Some say he was just caught on a track he could not deviate from and his bloody yet glorious death was an evitable consequence, in short he brought about his own downfall.

I know exactly how that feels.

Through these weekly dispatches I appreciate I have dispensed nicknames to many of you but I have always tried to make them complimentary, or manly, or at the very least anchored in truth, for example Fireman Dave, is a fireman but it is also a manly nickname and complimentary.  Angry Mick, manly, warrior like.    Geordie Dave…ok maybe the renaming as The Mike Ashley Sports Direct Dave isn’t as warrior like as he might like, but we all know Geordies are hardy, sturdy sort of people, look at their women when on a night out…terrifying they are, you must be a true man to have wrestled one of those to the floor.  Inspector Gadget Tim – I know this one has yet to really take off, perhaps it should just be Gadget Tim, or Inspector Tim, or Zebedee but at least it is a compliment to his incredible, stretchy, springy legs and the eye watering stretches.  Big John…sounds like a man sized snack, a pie or a pasty perhaps, I’ll have a Big John please shopkeeper.  Scouse Steve, Scouse, says it all, lovable, comedic, rogue like but will have the wheels off your car if you leave it parked outside his house.  Steve the Bruce, not at all Scottish but the simple inclusion of the word ‘the’ gives him his Robert The Bruce, glaring mad Scottish eyed warrior, revolutionary identity.   Paddy…granted this one is not of my making, Patrick has always been Paddy but Paddy = Irish, have you ever seen those Big Fat Gypsy Wedding programmes, they are all Irish and all fight bare knuckled, even the men.   So it was only a matter of time before I should expect to receive my own nickname in return: would be it manly, full of muscle and sinew and daring or would it be full of character and roguishness or relate to my weekly dispatches full of history and philosophy, would it be something like Homer or Virgil (probably my all time favourite author)?

No.

One mention of a bloody bear and not being in a bad mood and swiftly, like Brutus’ dagger in the heart of Caesar, I am now Cuddles, or as Geordie Dave did call out to me, ‘Yo Cuddles’, and thus, like Julius Caesar I have brought about my own downfall: oh the indignity of it all, hoisted on my petard, the infamy, infamy….you’ve all got it in for me!

Now then Whites, I bet you never expected that to be the write up from the humiliation of last week: was I the only one who thought that it could have been the very first whitewash ever, if only we hadn’t eased off.   8 – 5 in games.

So who is playing this week?

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