The EU Referendum Explained

N.B. This is supposed to be funny, or at least tongue in cheek. Any similarities between characters in the story and real life is purely coincidental... Promise...

Imagine you're at a pub with 9 friends. You're sort of the leader of the group, because everyone else is crap at making decisions, you're the one that eventually decides where you're eating or drinking.

Tonight you're at the local. One of your mates, we'll call him Nigel is moaning as usual about your local, he doesn't like the staff and he thinks that the pints cost too much and that money could be better spent on the jukebox or on crisps for the whole group.

Nigel thinks you should drink elsewhere but is very vague on suggestions as to where that might be. Up until this point the consensus has been Nigel is a bit of a prat and its best to just let him get on with his moaning because you're going to stay regardless, it's your local and the status quo is fine...

On the last couple of trips you've noticed that at least one of your mates seems to be nodding in agreement with Nigel when he's moaning, alarm bells are ringing now because this bloke, we'll call him Davis, is more of a frenemy than a real mate of yours, but you know he's never really liked the pub and he has a lot of influence in the friendship group, so there could be a falling out if this pub situation isn't resolved.

In a bid to shut Davis and Nigel up, to reinforce your authority as the group's decision maker, you clear your throat and say; look lads, Nigel doesn't like the pub or its staff, Davis believes they hold too much influence over our choice of beverage and I've just renegotiated our bar tab to get the cost of a round down by a couple of quid, at least temporarily.

I think it's time we settled this once and for all, are we staying or are we moving on? Nigel and Davis haven't even suggested any alternative pubs, and you know full well the price of a round is unlikely to be cheaper elsewhere, you're confident your pals will see sense. You declare you want to stay and you're joined in that decision by your sidekick, we'll call him Creepy George.

Creepy George wants to make decisions when you stop making them in a few years and Creepy George decides to try and creep people into agreeing with you by saying that if we go to another pub he'll stop buying his round. Davis and Nigel are joined by Weird Michael.

Weird Michael has always held some weird views so it's no surprise to you he wants to leave, Weird Michael responds to fact and evidence-based arguments by weirdly saying that people are bored of experts, the weirdo.

At this point you're looking at the mates that haven't said anything yet, Beardy Jez says that he thinks we should stay, while appearing to edge towards the door, and at the same time Jacob Two Names says that he thinks we ought to leave because staying in this pub is a sign of our pessimism. At this point you, Creepy George and Beardy Jez are joined by Scottish Al and Invisible Tim who use this opportunity to remind everyone that they might not stay in this group if they don't get their way, and that they exist, respectively.

You're still confident, but this is close, you all look at Hairy Boris. He's been pretending not to listen while all this was going on, but that's Hairy Boris' game. You know full well he's said we should stay at the pub before now, and he knows you know, but that won't stop Hairy Boris.

You need Hairy Boris onside. People listen to Hairy Boris. They get hypnotised by that hair and all the words even Shakespeare rejected that tumble out of his mouth. Hairy Boris winks at you, nobody else sees it, but he winks. I think we should leave says Hairy Boris.

You've now effectively reached a point where half of you want to stay and half of you want to leave, but because Jacob Two Names is quite tall and Hairy Boris is oddly spherical they seem to have the edge, about 52% to 48%, if you will.

At this point you all start to walk VERY slowly towards to door. You mutter that you're opinion isn't taken seriously so you can't make the decisions for the group anymore, Creepy George says he'll buy a round wherever you end up after all. Beardy Jez, you're sure you saw him fist-pump, shrugs and says he couldn't do anymore.

Nobody is listening to Invisible Tim when he starts talking about it not being over yet. Divisions in the group are growing as Scottish Al says he's staying put because he didn't say he wanted to leave and he won't let the rest of us drag him out.

Hairy Boris didn't really want to leave, so doesn't know any other pubs but fancies the role of deciding where to go and makes his pitch. Unfortunately Weird Michael has suddenly decided that Hairy Boris doesn't have the capabilities to lead you to another pub and thinks he should, you're still not sure he knows if there is anywhere else open or worth a visit, just that he's never liked this pub.

Nigel doesn't like the staff, he wants to go somewhere with self-service, you're pretty sure that doesn't exist but Nigel isn't listening and Davis wants more freedom to pick what he drinks, but doesn't know of any specific pubs that will actually be serving his favourite beer.

Jacob Two Names says something posh and reassuring that reassures nobody as you all stroll out into the night coming to terms with the realisation half of you wanted to stay and the other half wanted to leave for different reasons, you don't know whether they can all be accommodated wherever you end up, just that at least half, probably more, will be disappointed.

You ring the Mrs and say, Stern Theresa, can you give us a lift? Where to, she asks... No idea, you say... Fair enough, she says.

Casual abuse and inexplicable inventiveness: The plight of the English Language

The kids who drove this often medalled, but I've never seen them at the Olympics...

During the second half of Man United v Everton a few weeks ago, Michael Owen managed to complete a sentence that started in the present tense, moved backwards into the past tense, and then somehow returned to the present.

My response, partly fuelled by the tension that comes from watching any United game these days, was as follows: “Congratulations for butchering the English language, Michael, top effort.”

Before proceeding I’d quickly like to point out I have no hatred for Owen, and while his co-commentary isn’t my cup of tea, he isn’t the only one I struggle to listen to, and I would take him every day ahead of Niall Quinn.

Rather than Owen-bashing, this blog is intended as a quick look at the English Language, and the casual but violent abuse it faces on a day-to-day basis.

Firstly, it is a wonderful opportunity to reference and refer to Weird Al Yankovic’s work of genius, Word Crimes.

Utilising the music and lyric-pattern of Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines it is as creative with the language as it is abusive of those who have so much trouble using it correctly. If you haven’t heard it yet, listen to it now!

One pet-hate of mine that has made its way into the conscience of Weird Al is the tendency of many to describe things as being LITERALLY something, when they literally aren’t.

Describing yourself as literally dying when hung-over or aching a bit is so frustrating that I metaphorically explode.

Equally common is the trend of turning every word into a verb. A tutor on my Masters course was particularly aggravated by the now globally accepted action of ‘medalling’ at a sporting event.

The verb ‘to medal’ has now become accepted, but this could be a dangerous precedent that sees people turn any word they like into a verb.

“@ALunzenfichter: Paris will not candidate for 2024 olympic games. Décision of Manuel Valls Prime Minister.” - USA very likely to host 2024
— James Pearce (@Pearcesport) October 13, 2014

Banter is a horrific word anyway, used to cover all manner of sins, but turn it into a verb and it's even worse.

“We’re bantering…” Let that one sink in.

So while ‘medalling’ is not an offensive word on its own, maybe its definition should go back to being what Scooby Doo and the rest of Mystery Inc. got up to.

Other words to be regularly used to hideous effect are babe, baby and babes. These are not terms of endearment, however regularly Danny Dyer tries to convince us by using them to address his onscreen wife on Eastenders.

‘Babe’ was a pig. ‘Baby’ is an infant that hasn’t yet become a toddler. And ‘babes’ is the plural word for attractive women used for a period in the 90s, usually on American TV programmes, when ‘chicks’ went out of fashion.    

There are numerous words that are shortened bizarrely or reemployed with entirely new meanings for no apparent reason.

For example, if you must shorten the word legend, then that would be spelt leg, not ledge. Sachin Tendulkar is a legend, but to my knowledge he has never formed part of a window, so he isn’t a ledge.

Cupboards can occasionally be bare, but contrary to the belief of many, they can’t be bare bare. Why bare is now used as a replacement for very I have no idea, there is nothing wrong with the word very to my knowledge.

Language does evolve, and I’m not advocating a return to Shakespearian English by any stretch of the imagination, but I don’t see any of the above, or anything uttered by Joey Essex as an improvement on what we have persevered with for a while now.

Finally, I fully understand that if there are any spelling mistakes, typing errors or some questionable grammar hiding among these lines, it would make me a hypocrite as well as a miserable git.

#WestCountryRevisited

The weather wasn't this nice in the days leading up to the game... 

“There you go… that’s England’s green and pleasant land.”

As Grant looked up from his crossword book to caption the scenery on the return train journey to Gloucester for #WestCountryRevisited, his description was accurate but had to be responded to with a certain amount of disdain.

I’m always in favour of references to Jerusalem the almost-official anthem of English cricket, but it’s dangerous if he gets too comfortable in his familiar surroundings, so I simply chose to point out that Essex is pretty green too.

It was with Essex in mind that I made the return journey, with a T20 fixture to see at the fabled Cheltenham festival, the less said about the result though, the better.

As Gloucestershire’s Chris Dent, AKA The Dentist, hit the winning runs, a grinning Grant stood up, offered his hand and said that’s one each… he was forgetting the second game Essex had won against them this year, but he was close enough, and there’s still one more match to go this season back at fortress Chelmsford.

Following up on my March trip to Meadow Park and Whaddon Road, there were more of the West Country’s delights to sample this time.

I sat and had a drink adjacent to what is apparently the longest village green in England, and despite the fact that building a road through the middle of it makes it wholly unsuitable for cricket, the locals aren’t concerned… we’ll just change the rules, they thought. 

WE also took the trip into the heart of the Forest of Dean for another of Gloucester City’s ‘home’ matches, a friendly against Newport County.

Fair advance warnings were delivered about the Forest of Dean and while I didn’t witness any webbed feet, it was an experience nonetheless.

Just as Grant’s dad was explaining that the wild boar that roam the land were getting out of hand and there was talk of a cull, we passed a dead one in the road, and an age-old forest proverb was born as I attempted to describe the scene.

Wild boar, roam no more.

Poetry.

Cinderford Town was the host for the game, and in those 90 minutes we experienced torrential rain, gusting wind and bright sunshine, a veritable smorgasbord of weather that would have had Tomasz Schafernaker licking his lips.

The game itself was a standard pre-season affair, though two travelling fans attempted to spoil it from the row behind by providing insight and commentary that made Danny Murphy sound like a combination of a tactical genius on a level above Mourinho and William Shakespeare’s true linguistic heir, all in one go. Painful.

If one image could sum up that journey though it would be the one that I’ll forever struggle to shake.

As we were descending back towards civilisation we passed a lamppost with a unique decoration. Lara Croft.

Gun drawn and ready for action, the life size Lara (waxwork/dummy/doll?) was tied to the unsuspecting street light by a bike lock, and she looked like she was there for the long haul.

The thunderstorms followed me west, so while the east of the country was recovering from Thursday night’s mayhem, I was reliving it in the ‘Shire, apart from that though, another splendid trip.

Luis Suarez, star of the big screen..?

Howard Webb and his Untouchables?

I was recently asked what my favourite film is, and this is a question I have real difficult answering. I eventually came up with The Shawshank Redemption, and I stand by that decision, but a contender I forgot at the time is The Untouchables. It’s a great story that indulges my (not so well hidden) inner history geek, and it might be due for a modern day reprisal.

Al Capone was one of the most feared organised crime bosses of 1920s America, and while everyone knew what he was doing, proving it was impossible. Two of the biggest issues were that he was providing a service that many people were grateful for (the importing of alcohol into prohibition-era USA) and the fact that most of the police were in his pocket. Along came Eliot Ness and his untouchables, and eventually Capone was jailed, albeit for tax evasion.

The modern reprisal could therefore reasonably be about tax, a hot topic as avoidance schemes are regularly being rumbled and the rich and famous are regularly placed under the microscope. Businesses have been accused of immoral or illegal gains, and so have celebrities, so a comedy version starring Jimmy Carr might appeal..?

However, I’d like to focus on the notion that while everybody knew what Capone was doing, nobody seemed capable of catching him and punishing him for it. For all the attacking football and goal scoring exploits on show in Brazil at the 2014 World Cup, there has also been a third incident of a bizarre and disgusting nature that has gone unseen by the officials present.

Luis Suarez has on three occasions lost the plot on the football field and chosen to use his teeth as a weapon to attack an opposing player. First at Ajax, and subsequently playing for Liverpool, these incidents went unseen, and on the day, unpunished.

I believe as part of the punishment for his second offence he was given psychiatric help for his apparent uncontrollable anger, but he has yet again acted in a way unbefitting of a human being. Punching and kicking is bad, biting is worse. We know Suarez has bitten three opponents, but none of the officials present seem to see him doing it, like Capone, Suarez seems to move stealthily.

Suarez has in the past moaned about the English, and our media persecuting and vilifying him, I can’t do much more to prove you right than compare you to Al Capone can I Luis? So in the modern day twist on a great film, I propose that we release a feature on Howard Webb and his untouchables trying to bring down the nibbly super villain before it’s too late… and if they can’t get him for biting, maybe someone will spot a dive or a handball on the goal line instead.

I'm just not a serious person...

Akinfeev hoping Capello has PATIENCE and gives him a chance to SHINE in the other games pic.twitter.com/O1y1lLcaGj #WorldCupLookalikes #Barlow

— Richard Jude (@RichardJude) June 17, 2014

 Me being a serious person... 

For much of my life the fact that I don’t take myself very seriously has been a blessing. It’s definitely harder to be offended by a joke (or a question or insulting observation) if you’ve either already thought it yourself or simply appreciate the humour. For the first time I’m beginning to question the use of this trait.

I often observe people posting things on Twitter, and am simply left wondering why they’ve felt the need to write those things. I think it ultimately comes down to them taking themselves, their profile, their opinions and their careers seriously. I won’t mention any names, and I’m not making any accusations, but when I see people with only a few hundred followers just reporting facts about global events I have wondered why they bother, but the fact is you have to start somewhere, and there are plenty of people with seven followers and an egg for a photo, speaking with just as much authority.

To play devil’s advocate with myself, even if they provide the information to one of their followers, that is one person who may well think to themselves that this person is now a useful source of information…

My problem is that with just shy of 200 followers, and having made no substantial attempt to expand this, I’m confident that nobody is following @RichardJude for breaking news. Frankly I think most people are probably there out of sympathy, loyalty or simply feel they have no choice.

What I have chosen to do, rightly or wrongly, is make my Twitter account an extension of me, the person who doesn’t take himself too seriously. So far during the World Cup the most insightful observations I have made have been highlighting potential lookalikes. I was particularly proud of Nico Kovac and Joseph Gordon-Levitt, one that Paddy Power spotted a few days later.

#WorldCupLookalikes: Short-haired Luka Modric - A young Vladimir Putin & Niko Kovac - Joseph Gordon-Levitt
— Richard Jude (@RichardJude) June 12, 2014

If you ever see me just report fact (rather than opinion or my own brand of ‘humour’) you have my permission to point this out to me, and I’ll join you in deriding me for my outrageous hypocrisy. (Unless I have actually learnt to take myself seriously, in which case leave me be…)

Maybe now the fact I choose not to take myself particularly seriously is proving a weakness, but I’d rather that than be the 9 millionth person to make a list of things we’ve learnt during the World Cup, that simply contains nonsense, inanity or the bleeding obvious.

N.B. An alternative take on a World Cup list that I did enjoy exists here, but frankly I’d have been more inclined to list the reasons I hated it before England went out… I’m just that bloody negative!