Bleurgh. I don't know what I was drinking last night, but right now it's fighting a pitched battle with the stringy kebab I spilled down my neck at 2 in the morning, and the losing side is me. I remember some people I met at the quiz machine, a nightclub and there may even have been some breasts, but other than that it's just a blur of various noxious brews with a soundtrack provided by the fucking Ting Tings. Believe me when I say that they are truly awful. They're not even half-decent enough to be good to jump around on a dancefloor to while pissed off your tits, and I'll dance to the rhythm of my own burps.
It does raise an interesting question, though: According to my research (alright, it was Wikipedia), they've had two top 10 singles and a number one album - who's buying this tripe? It's the sort of inoffensive radio-friendly background-pop that you use to break up the monotony in between long silences or to cover up the sound of clacking keys in an office, but you wouldn't buy it. Unless you're some sort of insufferable tit who wouldn't know good music if it punched you in the bollocks. Let's just get this clear: If you listen to the Ting Tings, you are worse than Hitler.
Worse, also, apparently, than Radovan Karadzic. An extradition request for the former Bosnian Serb military leader is due to be in the offing in the next few days, designed to take the Serb to the Hague on charges of war crimes and, as with all things Balkan, it hasn't passed without a riot. Serbian nationalists, who presumably consider Karadzic's slaughter of a few thousand Bosniaks a generally good thing, have taken to the streets and President Boris Tadic has called out the riot police just in case they go on a jolly and try to nick Kosovo back, or something. It's been a bad time of late for Serbian nationalists, with the government seemingly determined to press forward with integration with the west and membership in the EU despite a vote suggesting at least a third of the population opposes it, as well as losing territory long considered Serbian in the shape of Montenegro and Kosovo, and now having a man many still consider a hero captured after 13 years on the run. You can see why they're a bit miffed, really, and it being a region where people will launch into street-burning riots over the price of bog roll, the riot police are probably a neccessary precaution. Or a good source of truncheons for clubbing each over the head. Either way.
Other than that, there's not a great deal going on. The football transfer market is going to go a bit doo-lally in the next few days, apparently, but for now it's just Roy Keane signing anyone who's Irish or ever played for Spurs, except Robbie Keane, the Irishman who used to play for Spurs. The Express reckons Liverpool - the younger Keane's new club - are now out of transfer money and are trying to flog Xabi Alonso to Arsenal in order to fund a bid to finally bring the second most protracted transfer of the summer to a close - signing Aston Villa's Gareth Barry. But the Express also think that rain is caused by Muslims in biplanes spitting at the Queen, so it's probably best to take most of the above with a good fistful of salt until something actually happens.
As for the most protracted transfer of the summer, Cristiano Ronaldo's subtle winking at Real Madrid behind Alex Ferguson's back, it's all still up in the air. The man himself has apparently been recuperating in L.A. on a strict diet of hair products and film premieres as a result of his knackered ankle, and has still managed to garner more back-page column inches than anyone actually doing any sport, so I'm not going to give him any more publicity than he's already had, except to call him a cunt.
Cristiano, you're a cunt.
That's about all the news I can fit into my addled brain just now, so you'll have to check in tomorrow to see if anything interesting has happened between now and whenever whichever part of the brain controls comprehension and short-term memory decides to start working again. At least it's not as blisteringly hot today, so I might be able to lie in bed making gentle mewling noises without sweating off another stone.
Happy tuesday.
Goodnight.
It does raise an interesting question, though: According to my research (alright, it was Wikipedia), they've had two top 10 singles and a number one album - who's buying this tripe? It's the sort of inoffensive radio-friendly background-pop that you use to break up the monotony in between long silences or to cover up the sound of clacking keys in an office, but you wouldn't buy it. Unless you're some sort of insufferable tit who wouldn't know good music if it punched you in the bollocks. Let's just get this clear: If you listen to the Ting Tings, you are worse than Hitler.
Worse, also, apparently, than Radovan Karadzic. An extradition request for the former Bosnian Serb military leader is due to be in the offing in the next few days, designed to take the Serb to the Hague on charges of war crimes and, as with all things Balkan, it hasn't passed without a riot. Serbian nationalists, who presumably consider Karadzic's slaughter of a few thousand Bosniaks a generally good thing, have taken to the streets and President Boris Tadic has called out the riot police just in case they go on a jolly and try to nick Kosovo back, or something. It's been a bad time of late for Serbian nationalists, with the government seemingly determined to press forward with integration with the west and membership in the EU despite a vote suggesting at least a third of the population opposes it, as well as losing territory long considered Serbian in the shape of Montenegro and Kosovo, and now having a man many still consider a hero captured after 13 years on the run. You can see why they're a bit miffed, really, and it being a region where people will launch into street-burning riots over the price of bog roll, the riot police are probably a neccessary precaution. Or a good source of truncheons for clubbing each over the head. Either way.
Other than that, there's not a great deal going on. The football transfer market is going to go a bit doo-lally in the next few days, apparently, but for now it's just Roy Keane signing anyone who's Irish or ever played for Spurs, except Robbie Keane, the Irishman who used to play for Spurs. The Express reckons Liverpool - the younger Keane's new club - are now out of transfer money and are trying to flog Xabi Alonso to Arsenal in order to fund a bid to finally bring the second most protracted transfer of the summer to a close - signing Aston Villa's Gareth Barry. But the Express also think that rain is caused by Muslims in biplanes spitting at the Queen, so it's probably best to take most of the above with a good fistful of salt until something actually happens.
As for the most protracted transfer of the summer, Cristiano Ronaldo's subtle winking at Real Madrid behind Alex Ferguson's back, it's all still up in the air. The man himself has apparently been recuperating in L.A. on a strict diet of hair products and film premieres as a result of his knackered ankle, and has still managed to garner more back-page column inches than anyone actually doing any sport, so I'm not going to give him any more publicity than he's already had, except to call him a cunt.
Cristiano, you're a cunt.
That's about all the news I can fit into my addled brain just now, so you'll have to check in tomorrow to see if anything interesting has happened between now and whenever whichever part of the brain controls comprehension and short-term memory decides to start working again. At least it's not as blisteringly hot today, so I might be able to lie in bed making gentle mewling noises without sweating off another stone.
Happy tuesday.
Goodnight.
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