Barrel, Bellwhack and Theocott shine for Hudson’s heroes

Oh, the joy … oh, the agony. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions in the Yooro 2012 table football tournament these past few days.

Yet there’s no one more delighted in all of Daftown this weekend than Coy Hudson after his Ingerland outfit chalked up their first win, mashing the Swedes in a rip-roaring 10-7 win.

On a night of highs, lows and a few drinks too (truth be told), national treasures Wally Theocott, Donny Bellwhack and Sandy Barrel were among the scorers as Hudson’s heroes finally hit form.

Ingerland v Sweden: the view from above from a passing blimp, before the roof was closed

There were fine showings from Joseph ‘Harry’ Hearty, John Glenson, Jolene Waistcoat, Skip Parka and Gerry Stevens too, with not so much as a ponytail or a nautical Scandinavian beard able to spoil the party.

And there are bound to be a few more sleepless nights for Coy as he works out just who should make way for returning star turn Shrek Looney in Tuesday’s decider against Ukraine.

There was drama ahoy at The New Table of Dreams during the latest batches of matches, more than matching the histrionics of the alternative competition currently taking place in Poland and Ukraine.

And I can reveal a split of results across the nations, ensuring plenty more sudden death tussles these next few days as we head towards the last eight.

Last time you heard, we’d just completed the first of the second round of matches in the group stage, all four Group A nations with one win to their name.

Since then, it’s been a similar tale elsewhere – with only Germany and France unbeaten after two matches, and Portugal and Ukraine yet to pick up a win.

The mighty Hoyerland – the night before Ingerland – overcame the odds to secure their first win too, their action-packed 10-7 Group C win over a sparkling Spain side causing more than a few raised eyebrows.

It proved a night to remember for the Oirish camp as Stray ‘Cat’ Gideon held his nerve at one end while Bobby Keynote shone at the other against Vince Del Busker’s  favourites.

The celebrations that followed were the stuff of which legend is made, and at one point Daftown TV summariser and ex-Eire legend Rory ‘No Relation’ Keynote threatened to turn his dogs on the partying fans if they didn’t shut the Robert Fleck up and let him speak.

That was just one of many thrillers that have rocked Daftown’s premier sporting venue so far, and – from where we last left off – we also saw Denmark’s 10-4 demolition of Portugal, Ron Aldi and co. left impotent by a sizzling Danish outfit.

That was followed by a Mittwoch meisterklass from Fabi Pigherder and Supermario Gomez as the Germans saw off the Netherlands 10-4, as good as ensuring a quarter-final for David Gedge impersonator Joachim Lowenbrau’s side.

That result followed a 10-6 victory for the Eyetalians against Croatia, ensuring we have another group in which all four sides have one win to their names – setting up a mouth-watering Monday night showdown.

Meanwhile, Laurent Blancmange’s French fancies fought their way to a thrilling Friday night 10-4 Group D victory over Ukraine, the roof firmly closed to protect the New Table of Dreams as the heavens truly opened in ever-precipitous Lankyshire.

Then came Coy Hudson’s moment of joy, our first guest of the tournament – The Wheelers – playing a crucial part in both Friday matches and now able to tell future generations ‘we were there’.

Sandy Barrel: no ponytail required as the Inglish striker found his form

I can also exclusively reveal another fateful factor in that Ingerland win, our house guests on the night also having been there when Ingerland strike heroes Barrel and Bellwhack found their feet at club level – on loan at local table football legends Depreston South End.

And now we’re beautifully set up for the last round of group matches, with our eight quarter-finalists to be confirmed these coming four days.

Bet you can’t wait.

Results so far: Group A – Poland 10 Greece 6; Russia 7 Czech Republic 10; Greece 10 Czech Republic 4; Poland 5 Russia 10. Group B – Holland 10 Denmark 8; Germany 10 Portugal 5; Denmark 10 Portugal 4; Netherlands 4 Germany 10. Group C – Spain 10 Italy 4; Ireland 9 Croatia 10; Italy 10 Croatia 6; Spain 7 Ireland 10. Group D – France 10 England 8; Ukraine 8 Sweden 10; Ukraine 4 France 10; Sweden 7 England 10.

* Stay in touch with https://writewyattuk.wordpress.com for more from the Yooro 2012 table football tournament 


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Daftown disturbance drama averted

First off, I should stress that reports of unrest at the New Table of Dreams have been blown out of all proportion.

There was a minor niggle between my daughters before the Poland v Russia match, but a mere mention of the watering can was enough to avoid a needless escalation, and we had no reason to send for the camping gaz canisters.

As it was, I can categorically state there were no tears before bedtime, and the march home from school before the Greece vs Czech Republic match also passed off peacefully.

Riot prevention: There was no need for the watering cans on Tuesday

Again, the main fireworks have taken place on the pitch, and since our last update there have been 98 more goals in this fascinating tournament.

That takes the goal tally to 164 in just 10 matches, and we’re beginning to see a little shape at the group stage of Daftown’s premier festival of table football.

After early Yooro 2012 victories for Poland, the Czech Republic, Holland and Germany, we’ve seen success for Spain, Croatia, France, Sweden, Greece and Russia.

And the eagle-eyed and sound of mind among you will have realised from this sequence that there were no first-time victories for Ingerland and Eire.

Spain were in particular fine form in their 10-4 defeat of Italy, but Ireland came so close in a dramatic encounter with Croatia settled by the last kick of the game.

There were tears, tantrums and tribulations the following day as Coy Hudson’s battlers put up a fight but were cruelly robbed by les garlic-munching bleus, while Sweden fended off a close challenge from Ukraine.

And then yesterday we saw two surprisingly mis-matched encounters in Group A as Greece beat the not-so-bouncy Czechs 10-4 and Russia upset the Poles in a 10-5 win.

That means Russia lead the group on goal difference alone, all four sides having chalked up a win each, setting up two nervy sudden-death final ties on Saturday.

The same goes for the three ‘I’s before that – the Irish, the Inglish and the Eyetalians – each team needing a win next time before they return to the garage in disgrace.

Underhand tactic: Freddie Rubbery’s Henry V disguise was inspired by this National Portrait Gallery likeness

As it was, it was Freddie Rubbery who did for us on Monday, Coy Hudson’s side seemingly unsettled by the French striker taking to the field in the guise of Henry V for the second half, as our boys visibly wilted in sun-drenched Daftown.

And who can forget the despair shown by Stray ‘Cat’ Gideon in the Irish goal as his side crumbled at the last to a cracking but cruel Croatian decider.

For now though, the spotlight falls on to Group B, and tonight’s sudden-death clash between first-round losers Denmark and Portugal, before Holland take on Germany, the winners in that one going straight into the quarter-finals.

And as expert Daf TV pundit and ex-Ingland strike legend Al ‘Lego House’ Sheeran said to host Barry Spinnaker on Monday night, “Wye-aye, you can’t wrote drama like that, man.”

Results so far: Poland 10 Greece 6; Russia 7 Czech Republic 10; Holland 10 Denmark 8; Germany 10 Portugal 5; Spain 10 Italy; Ireland 9 Croatia 10; England 8 France 10; Sweden 10 Ukraine 8; Greece 10 Czech Republic 4; Poland 5 Russia 10.

* Stay in touch with https://writewyattuk.wordpress.com for more from the Yooro 2012 table football tournament 

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Czech mates, Dutch courage and Deutscher dynamics

Forget goal-line technology. My better half has a far more effective method of avoiding controversy at the New Table of Dreams, and far more cost-effective.

The solution – temporary at least – for early Yooro 2012 tournament hiccups in Daftown proved to be the strips of brown parcel tape now straddling the underside of the blue end of our table.

Before now, we had issues where would-be scorers were denied as the ball crept back off a near-invisible backboard and returned into play.

But our emergency measures have already borne fruit, the ground improvements helping a typically-efficient, some would say clinical German side – in unfamiliar blau – overcame Portuguese resistance to chalk up the most emphatic win yet.

Portugal’s Ron Aldi and Lidl Nanny tried distracting the Germans with a little retail therapy, but indie favourite ‘Supermario’ Gomez just said ‘bring it on’, and Fabian Pigherder brought home the bacon in a 10-5 drubbing.

Blue Moon Rising: Germany’s indie star Gomez spots Patrice Rio off his line

That proved to be the second blue success of the tournament, the first real shock seeing Andrei Asshaving and Roman Pavlovachunk fail to upstage Pedro Cheque-Book in the Czech Republic’s 10-7 defeat of Russia on Friday.

The Germany v Portugal clash proved a worthy follow-up to Saturday’s starter, the Netherlands knocking the Danes into a cocked Dutch cap in a 10-8 win – the Danish blues left feeling cheesy by an edam-good Holland outfit.

While their Ukrainian-based equivalents struggled to entertain on Saturday, there was end-to-end excitement throughout day two in Daftown.

Think of the last 20 minutes of the Lviv encounter between Germany and Portugal – aptly enough the only bit of the game the Wyatt clan got to see – and you get something of the calibre of both table football encounters that day.

More excitement is expected tonight as Italy face world champs Spain, then Tony Van Trapp’s Eire clash with Croatia.

Looking further ahead, if you require a glimmer of hope that 46 years of hurt might come to an end for England this year, maybe there’s something in the fact that we’ve already seen a glorious 66 goals on the New Table of Dreams so far.

Who knows what Coy Hudson’s side will produce on Monday against the French, in a mouth-watering red versus blue encounter.

Shrek Looney may be out, but it could be Donny Bellwhack’s chance to shine, and John Dodgy will be eager to repay Coy’s confidence in picking him rather than Ferdie Janeiro.

Results so far: Poland 10 Greece 6; Russia 7 Czech Republic 10; Holland 10 Denmark 8; Germany 10 Portugal 5.

* Stay in touch with https://writewyattuk.wordpress.com for more from the Yooro 2012 table football tournament 

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P-P-P-Polskaface

So we’re finally away at Yooro 2012, and there were definitely no slapdash red cards brandished at the Table of Dreams tonight.

While a Card-happy ref put his own stamp on the events at Warsaw, both Poland and Greece finished with 11 men in Daftown’s premier table football event.

The roof was closed and we definitely had a krakow of a tournament opener, but there the similarities ended, and I can report exclusively a 10-6 victory for a Polska outfit that trailed 4-1 in the early stages.

In Warsaw we encountered a tale of three goalies – the sent-off Pole and his penalty-saving replacement plus the Greek in the flesh-coloured kit who appeared from a distance to pay tribute to all those risque Ancient Athenian sculptures.

Ominous: Pedro Cheque-Book will face Tommy Muller-Lite this Saturday

Bobby Trueredski up against seemingly-naked Greek keeper Bareas

Streaking keepers aside, Poland and Arsenal’s one-hit wonder Szczesny Hawkes was having a ‘mare in Daftown in the early stages, but The One And Only helped turn the tide within minutes with a delightful goal from his own area … and the Greeks were pretty pita-ful from there.

Before you could say Sokratis Papastathopoulos, you had to be philosophical and admit the East Europeans were on top, pulling in front for the first time at 6-5 and never looking back – apart from when their rods were spun, to the dismay of an autocratic match referee.

In the end it proved to be all about damage limitation for a Greek side looking for a further bail-out, the exuberance of the pre-match opening ceremony soon forgotten.

Neither Giorgos Karagounis, Georgios Samaras or even Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou could help before it was Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Manos, with the Poles claiming a deserved victory and the crowd soon waving tara-mosalata to the visitors.

* Stay in touch with https://writewyattuk.wordpress.com for more from Yooro 2012

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Early morning Olympic relay torch-ure

Was that it? Anyone who’s ever stood at the side of a road to watch cycling’s Tour of Britain coming through their locality knows the experience can be a bit of an anti-climax. Blink and you miss it, sometimes. But there was at least a little time to savour the Olympic Torch relay as it reached Chorley on Friday, June 1st.

I guess I got my hopes up a couple of weeks back when I saw how much time Olympic hero Ben Ainslie had with the torch as he left Land’s End at the start of the relay, giving everyone within 200 yards a good sniff of flame, so to speak. Yet it was all over a lot quicker in Downtown ‘Charley’.

One of our friends – further along the route from us – likened this morning’s historic moment with a far more intimate act, involving lots of build-up then … well, let’s not go there. Besides, having never tried that on a Chorley street corner I couldn’t possibly comment.

Ian Dawson approaches the author at some speed

As it was, the crowds were certainly out and about ‘early doors’, as Ron Atkinson would say, as the relay crossed the Lancashire border. Of course, proud Lancastrians in Bolton and Horwich who point-blank refuse any allegiance to the modern administrative county of Greater Manchester will be ‘up in arms’ (as they say in newspaper circles) at that last statement, but BBC Radio Lancashire made a big noise about the torch entering the Red Rose county at Adlington this morning, and that’s good enough for me.

Meanwhile, the Wyatt clan were across town, looking for a suitable spot on Southport Road as the Spirit of Prometheus drew ever closer to our neck of the woods, leaving Chorley and making towards the People’s Republic of Euxton. And it all went rather swimmingly really. Well, kind of.

The better half and I were already pepped up for Operation Breakfast by the time our alarm went off, and my eldest was not far behind, her own clarion call following. That just left my youngest, refusing to budge from her pit until her own alarm sounded. But she eventually joined us, just as the toast starting popping. And within half an hour we were on the road out of Daftown.

I admit feeling slightly guilty that we hadn’t taken to our bikes, not least after overtaking our retired neighbour lycra-ed up en route. But with two of our party set to leave for school by 8.40, it was never really going to happen.

With the crowds growing as we climbed the hill to this proud Lancashire market town, I started to wonder if there’d a be a parking place left for us before the roads closed, but we managed to find a gap not far from the home of double-Abbot Ale victors Chorley CC, and were soon on a street corner awaiting the big moment.

Around 15 minutes later the first section of the relay cavalcade approached, the police motorbike out-riders followed by a coach-load of torch-bearers (not a euphemism) and a few corporate sponsors in buses. Come to think of it, I’m sure I saw John Terry up there celebrating on top of the blue Samsung double-decker as they passed through.

After all that excitement, and a fair bit of blaring PA, it all went a bit quiet save for the big group waiting to see Helen Clarke do her stint with the torch, the Bolton special school teacher soon in place and awaiting her hand-over.

Then we see the next wave of out-riders, and before we knew it, York’s Ian Dawson was heading our way.

Ian Dawson avoids my call for the torch as the Spirit of Prometheus departs ‘Charley’

By that point, my eldest had confessed that she’d forgotten her mobile phone and so took charge of the camera on mine, but – with comedy timing – both myself and my youngest then realised how little power there was in our own cameras. Note to self: always charge up your cameras the night before any ‘historic moments to remember’.

I managed to squeeze out a few shots, but quite frankly should have done better (as you’ll see from the evidence). Either way, it was all over far too quickly and Ian was soon back on the official bus after a few celebratory family hugs, with Helen already away into the distance towards a town mis-pronounced ‘Yookston’ by generations of badly-informed broadcasters. You can’t level that at Radio Lancs though, who were definitely on the ball and by that stage had stand-up comic, jogging juggler and all-round good bloke Steve Royle running after torch-bearers looking for would-be interviewees.

We were back in the car by then, trying –unsuccessfully – to steal a march on all the other drivers thinking the same, being passed by members of the superb and suitably-gothic Stone The Crows morris dancing troupe on at least three occasions while crawling out of Chorley. Around half an hour later we finally made it home, the toast long since polished off and my eldest despatched for school in good time. Job done.

Half an hour later, my youngest – already comfortably ensconced on the sofa and enjoying her ‘insect day’ off school, was back on her DS console, all the historic excitement behind her. Just to make sure I had the right prognosis on this ‘once in a lifetime experience’, I asked her, “Did you enjoy that this morning, then?’

“Errrm … not really. Oh look, I’m close to my highest score!”

Well, there’s something to tell your grand-children one day.

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Carrying the torch – here comes London 2012

So we’re off and running with the 2012 Olympics, the countdown well and truly down to double figures, London’s spanking new venues ready and waiting, and the torch on its way around the UK.

Got tickets for any events? Didn’t think so. I was hoping to get some for the first day of the modern indoor decathlon (tiddlywinks, gurning, shoveha’p’ny, table football, wink murder, hunt the remote control, paper-scissors-stone, involuntary noises, synchronised twister, and beard growing), but failed there too.

The closest I’ll get for now is a rude awakening on June 1st, when the torch relay passes through the People’s Republic of Euxton just before 8am, a couple of miles down the road from our palatial base in Daftown, Lankers.

For all that, there’s a bit of a buzz at our place at present, something not even the sight of Boris Johnson getting off the official golden plane on Friday and being greeted by Nick Clegg could detract from.

While real-life Muppet Chris Evans hardly gave Ben Ainslie chance to speak on The One Show before Lord Coe and co landed at RNAS Culdrose, we had the telly back on at seven the next morning, the girls up early to see the Cornish sailing legend get the party started at the end of the A30.

Ainslie proved a breath of fresh air as he dillied, dallied and downright mingled with the crowds in the Far West rather than run off, giving young and old alike a darn good look (and a feel on a couple of occasions) of the ‘golden cheese grater thingy’ (© Cornwall Today’s ace columnist Pete Cross, whose wife was among the many community heroes carrying the torch that day) before handing over to the gloriously-named Tassie Swallow.

The St Ives surfer highlighted another aspect – while we won’t see it on the agenda this time, she was given a platform to spread the word about surfing, in the hope that one day her speciality would join the official list of Olympic sports.

Next up was 76-year-old Eric Smith, who was awarded the George medal in 1962 for his part in a helicopter rescue off Land’s End. The fact that he was – like my Dad – a Woking man, just added to the occasion for me.

I could go on, and there were so many great stories from all those involved, the Cornish adventure – however symbolic – just the first episode of a 70-day 8,000 mile adventure around these sceptred isles.

The first day ended across the Devon border with sports commentator Barry Davies among the torch-bearers in Plymouth, just after Chelsea and Bayern Munich had kicked off in the European Cup Final, a gig that would no doubt have been his own not so many moons ago. Yet the amiable veteran would never have turned down his opportunity, and can now talk with first-hand experience about the relay when it arrives in East London.

That counts for a lot, and should be a further indicator that the 2012 Olympics will be about ordinary people and sport rather than just a schmooze between the official delegation and Jack Rogge, a cheap political broadcast for the Cameron and Clegg Show, ludicrous ticket prices for Usain Bolt’s latest dynamic stroll in the park, David Beckham’s current Scandinavian seaman-style beard, or Princess Anne’s gravity-defying bouffant.

I’ve no problem with Beckham, Coe and … erm, Laurence being the public face of what should be the People’s Games, as long as this world-wide event first and foremost highlights a true Olympic spirit. While many past Euro Championships and World Cup football experiences have been spoiled for me by flag-waving and the dreaded Brits abroad mentality, here we have a real chance to shine for all the right reasons.

I’ve seen some of that old Olympic glory first-hand, not least as a regional sports reporter welcoming back surprise track cycling Gold medallist Jason Queally to his Chorley home after his two-gong Sydney 2000 triumph. I also witnessed similar family and local pride for fellow GB silver medallist equestrian Jeanette Brakewell after her three-day eventing success at the same Games.

Medallion Men: with Sydney 2000 star Jason Queally, photo courtesy of Chorley Guardian

Two years later, I got a further taste, following the routes of the mountain biking and cycling road races around Horwich and Rivington, reporting the 2002 Commonwealth Games in Manchester.

Yes, I’m not likely to be in London for any of the real stuff this time, but I wasn’t there at Sydney, Athens and Beijing either and enjoyed those parties. What of it?

Through the Olympic torch relay alone we’ve at least got some ownership of the event, and just seeing the famous and not-quite so well known carry the torch and witness how much it means on that personal scale is a great start.

So come on you cynics. Give London 2012 a go. Get in the Olympic spirit. And don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.

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The Table Of Dreams

It was never going to be a decision to take lightly. That football table had been part of my life for so long. I can’t think of a year in which it hasn’t seen active service. And every two years since the mid-90s it’s enjoyed a summer rejuvenation at Wyatt Manor.

I don’t recall when it first showed up, but it was a big investment for the folks and played an important part of our family life in South-West Surrey in the 1970s and 1980s.

Unpleasantness: The reds are in denial as a yellow player awaits treatment

When I moved North in 1994 it came with me, and despite the odd stint in the loft at my last house or the garage at my present abode, it soon re-discovered its rightful place at the heart of our operation, at least every other summer.

Every Euro Championships from England in 1996 through to Austria-Switzerland in 2008, and every World Cup from the USA in 1994 to South Africa in 2010 has had it’s table football equivalent here, and anyone who visited us during those tournaments played their own vital part in those proceedings.

Can it really be two years since the Ivory Coast upset the bookies to secure their first-ever World Cup victory in Daftown, Lankers? My ears are still whistling from the over-exuberance meted out by those cheap vuvuzela copies blown in my general direction.

But time sails on, and now we have to wonder just who will come out of the pack to secure European gold next month. And with no one getting that excited about Coy Hudson’s Ingerland team so far, maybe the year has finally arrived in which we exceed all our expectations and at least reach the final.

For every bit of magic in the official tournaments since I moved to Lankers – like Gazza’s wonder goal against Scotland in 1996 and Andres Iniesta’s winner for Spain in 2010 – there have been moments of note to savour here too. And more are expected this summer.

There have to be ground rules of course, and the authorities have been tough over the years. The ‘no spinning’ rule has been particularly heavily executed, but has no doubt added a few years to the original table. The rods are still pretty warped, but they’re all in one piece and that really is something to be proud of.

But a couple of weeks ago a cursory look at the Table of Dreams in the garage led us to the sorry decision that it really would have to be rested up and considered as an  exhibit for the newly-relocated National Football Museum in Manchester instead.

Over the years we’ve seen signs of age accelerate, not least when one player did a Sammy Nelson and brought a tournament into disrepute as the back half of his shorts dropped off. We’ve also witnessed the Brian McDermott, Clive Walker and Mickey Thomas effect in evidence, players once sporting a full head of hair returning for the next tournament as bald as coots.

But a few persevered with the old looks, not least those players with ponytails, something which must have given ‘80s throwback Sandy Barrel the hope he needed that he would be included in this summer’s Ingerland squad.

There have been other problems too, not least the fact that after every tournament the official ball has been put in a safe place that no bugger can actually remember come the next big event. But the show must always go on.

Yet this time, we instinctively knew it was just too much to expect the crumbling table to make it through another games marathon.

“That’s something you can look for on ebay,” remarked my other half, seemingly nonchalant but hurting as much as I was, having spotted the perilous state of the table while searching the garage for something neither of us could remember we’d gone out there for. But we both knew it was the right decision.

Three minutes later I was back in the house, entering the search term ‘football table’ on the computer. Within seconds a page of results appeared, and one seemed to jump out. Okay, the teams were blue and red rather than yellow and red, but I could live with that. I quickly clicked on for more details, having seen there were only seven minutes to go and one bid was already in. It read ‘pick-up only’ so I naturally expected it to be located in Leighton Buzzard, with no chance of a drive-over in these times of over-inflated diesel prices. But the table happened to be in Hindley Green, barely 15 miles via the A49 from Daftown. The dream was still alive.

Before I knew it, I’d put in a cautious bid and after a later panic – lack of faith, some might say – added a back-up tender in case there was a late flurry of excitement. Yet no further bids surfaced, and within a few minutes I had a new email announcing ‘Enjoy your football table’. I’d won the item. Not only that, but fate had clearly played a part and I saw that the seller was a fellow Wyatt. Uncanny.

Two days later I drove down to collect my purchase, heading around the north-east fringes of Wigan’s coal-belt to locate the right address. I recognised most of the places I passed from my days editing amateur rugby league copy for the Wigan Evening Post a few years before, and at one stage broke into a cold sweat, wondering if the table might have rugby posts instead.

I need not have worried. I finally tracked down my namesake, keeping my emotions intact as I gave his lad a few words of solace. But he seemed happy enough in the knowledge that the proceeds would go towards his first iPad, on the weekend Wigan Athletic had again defied gravity and retained their Premier League status.

The rest should be history, and only time will tell if the New Table of Dreams (note: no sponsor so far, which is just the way we like it … although we are open to offers, and talks are currently underway with a local chip van) will provide any of the success its predecessor had.

Ominous: Pedro Cheque-Book will face Tommy Muller-Lite this Saturday

In the meantime, Yooro 2012 preparations continue behind the scenes, and we have a warm-up game scheduled for this Saturday, when Bobby Dee Madonna’s blues Chelski, take on the red shirts of Bayern Munchausen for the Yooropean Cup Final. It would be wrong for me to reveal my tip for the trophy at this stage, but I have a sneaking suspicion that there can only be one victor. And table football will always be the winner.

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The Subways – Manchester, The Ritz (May 8th, 2012)

Youthful Energy: The Subways' Billy Lunn in live action at the Ritz (Photo: http://www.gigjunkies.com)

Youthful Energy: The Subways’ Billy Lunn in live action at the Ritz (Photo: http://www.gigjunkies.com)

There’s always been something about the notion of a three-piece band and how unexpectedly powerful such a stripped-down unit can be.

Forget all the added extras. All you really need is bass, guitar and drums. The Jam are an obvious example. Go back a bit and you can throw Cream and the Jimi Hendrix Experience in there, and in more recent times, Green Day. And there we have a clear influence on Hertfordshire trio The Subways.

Take their American Idiot era fervour and swap Billie Joe Armstrong for Billy Lunn, and you get new wave angst and power coupled with super-catchy hooks and inspired riffs.

What maybe sets The Subways apart are the harmonies between Billy and co-vocalist Charlotte Cooper, plus youthful energy by the bucket-load. And with Billy’s brother Josh’s hyper-active drumming holding the whole combo together, we have a fresh spin on a winning formula.

This is where the ex-journo in me might make a lazy comment about little of note  coming out of Welwyn Garden City since the Shredded Wheat factory closed down. But I’m above all that (honest), and The Subways deserve better.

Ritz Crackers: The Subways, live in Manchester, May 2012 (Photo: writewyattuk)

You might prefer labels like post-grunge or indie, but I’ll settle for perfect three-minute pop – not least on stand-out singles like the wondrous Rock’n’Roll Queen, Oh Yeah, It’s A Party, We Don’t Need Money To Have A Good Time, and latest offering Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.

At The Ritz we got all that and more, and while now and again that youthful energy gets a little tiring – not least as Billy shouts ‘Manchesterrrrr!!!’ for the 28th time – he somehow gets away with all that fresh-faced naivety. It helps define him … and his band. High-octane tunes and helium vocals prove a fiery combination.

I’m pretty sure there won’t be an insurance company out there that will go near Billy judging by his crowd-surfing antics at The Ritz – with his guitar on one occasion, and thankfully without it later as he climbed the balcony then threw himself back into an ultra-faithful throng – the element of trust from band and audience alike there for all to see.

There’s more to this gifted trio than just catchy powerful post-punk riffs. When they slow things down, you detect song-craft at its best, this scribe seeing parallels with The La’s and The Kooks for starters.Charlotte’s sumptuous bass also took me back to The Pixies, her on-stage presence alone having us mesmerised from the start.

With three studio albums behind them now, signs are that The Subways are at the top of their game, and they deserve all the accolades. Catch them yourself soon. They’ll put a spring in your step and remind you just what live music can be about.

Underground Overground: The Subways live at Manchester Ritz, May 2012 (Photo: http://www.gigjunkies.com)

For a writewyattuk feature/interview with Billy Lunn of The Subways, from October 2014, head here. For all the latest from The Subways, head to their official website or keep in touch via Facebook and Twitter.

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Deluxe editions – the bane of a record collector’s life

I’m trying my best to streamline my music collection at present. Honest. But in this day and age of ‘listen and rip’, it’s not getting any easier for those of us wanting a little more than a computer file to add to a tunes console.

I was going to say walkman there, but I think I got away with it.

The Jam: All Mod Cons, Polydor’s 2006 Deluxe Edition

So here’s the thing, and I’ll use this as an example. I wasn’t quite old enough to go out and buy The Jam’s All Mod Cons first time round. Luckily, I had a brother who was already earning at that point, who bought it on cassette instead. And all the time he was at home – and that takes us to 1983, I believe – I could rely on borrowing his tapes and sharing his radio-cassette player for the albums we jointly savoured.

The Clash: Combat Rock (1982) – snapped up at Bonaparte Records

When people ask you the record you first bought, chances are it’s embarrassing, but with me it was The Clash’s Combat Rock (1982) on cassette. That would have been from Bonaparte’s in Guildford. I was 14 at the time, and it seemed like a worthy addition to our joint collection. Many more tapes followed from my wages for delivering Sunday newspapers and serving in the village farm shop, not least double-A side ‘cassingles’ like Ramones’ Baby I Love You/Don’t Come Close, The Rezillos’ Top Of the Pops/Destination Venus, and Tubeway Army’s Are Friends Electric?/ Down in The Park, each in a cigarette pack-style flip-top cardboard picture box.

The Ramones: The Cassingle! – a long-since obsolete format

Time moved on, my brother took his stuff with him, and I persevered with cassettes until I took my first proper Saturday job, working at Boot’s in Guildford and making the most of a staff discount to finally switch to vinyl, powered by a new Sony C27 midi system that saw me out for the next 15 or years (before a cast-off turntable of my mate Al’s took over). Those days coincided with my discovery of a nearby record shop, becoming good mates and a regular lunchtime visitor with the lad who now runs the superb Ben’s Collectors Records across the town. Soon, my indie, punk and new wave vinyl was bolstered by classic 60s soul, and I finally had the beginning of a collection.

Ben’s Collectors Records: The man himself outside his Guildford shop

In that period of disposable income, I amassed a weight of LPs, 12” and 7” singles, the odd EP and even a few 10”s. At times, I needed my Echo & The Bunnymen-style overcoat to get back to my bedroom without the guilt of being challenged with the inevitable, “not more bloody records, surely?” Let’s just say that in recent years my better half confessed that she only really believed I was finally making the 250-mile move from Surrey to join her in Lancashire when the first car-load of vinyl arrived at her house in late 1993.

I got into CDs much later, starting with The Undertones’ Cher O Bowlies best of, chiefly for the fact that it had a different picture of the band on the front ( I already had all the tracks, of course). I still prefer vinyl and its superior sleeve artwork – inner, outer and gatefold, but times move on and while many thousands of people are now reverting to LPs, you need an expensive system to appreciate the supposed better sound quality. And with a young family, bugger all money, and a severe lack of space in my current household environment, I’ve had to turn to eBay these past couple of years to help off-load my treasured collection.

I did buy one of those USB turntables at first, recording vast swathes of records I hadn’t yet re-discovered on CD onto a hard drive. But the model I chose wasn’t the best quality, and I’d find I was three minutes into a song before it picked up a slight imperfection and jumped. It was a good way of listening to all that old stuff for the first time in a few years, but the experience was a little frustrating to say the least.

In the end, I became something of a grouch, as my girls heard me playing my LPs and decided to dance along while I warned them not to get too vigorous too close to the turntable as it might scratch the discs. I might as well have been playing them Pink Floyd, and soon decided it was taking far too long anyway. Besides, when you took into consideration the hours wasted in this venture, it often proved easier to track down the LPs in CD format via the internet or trawls through charity and record shops.

I sold a few of my LPs to a local collectors’ shop when I moved house in 2003, and since then another 400-plus have followed via eBay. I’m now down to less than 100 LPs and 12”s, some of which I couldn’t bear to be parted from (though some will surely follow shortly). It’s not just my vinyl, with a few of the other half’s collection in there too – all that Cult, Deacon Blue and INXS stuff I could never admit to owning. That’s not to say there weren’t a few LPs I pretended were hers to avoid embarrassment, mind.

While it hurts to pass on a lot of that vinyl, I had my reasons, and in many cases the feedback I’ve had from delighted LP junkies has nearly made it worth the dilemma. Some do it because of what they perceive as superior quality, others – like the guy who bought a few of my U2 albums and singles – say they just like to look at the old sleeve while playing their CDs. Pure nostalgia. And in one case there’s a couple in Scotland who bought a few of my old LPs who told me that their friends easily know where to find their house, as it’s a little cottage in the middle of South Ayrshire which comes with a huge pair of speakers attached.

The Undertones: The Undertones, the first LP gets a 2009 Salvo repackage

I’ve come to terms with passing on my vinyl these days, but that doesn’t mean I’m not having problems keeping my CD collection as condensed as possible. And the greatest challenge I have at present is through the collectors or deluxe edition style of marketing. By way of example, go along my CD racks and you’ll find three versions of The Undertones’ first two albums, two more of the last before Feargal Sharkey’s departure, four more collections of hits and rarities and the two albums since their reformation. Needless to say, I still have the vinyl too – 7”s, 12”s and LPs.

It’s a similar story with The Jam, where the deluxe editions of All Mod Cons and Sound Affects recently complemented the remastered CDs, which replaced the original CDs, which replaced the vinyl (which of course I still cling on to). The same goes for Paul Weller’s early solo output, and The Wedding Present, where the collection runs to 20 bits of vinyl plus numerous CDs, even more if you add David Gedge’s Cinerama off-shoot.

Madness: Wonderful, in its 2010 Salvo repackage format

To illustrate the whole sorry story, not long ago I decided to get the Madness LPs I craved on CD too, and was soon distracted by their nicely-presented Salvo two-disc sets. I’d already splashed out on the Salvo repackages for Slade and The Undertones, and now came this – each Madness album in a natty, Nutty Boys two-disc set, each with a letter on the spine collectively spelling the band’s name. I bought them out of order, having only originally aimed to get the first album, One Step Beyond, plus Keep Moving and Mad Not Mad. But the rest soon followed, right up to the aptly-titled Wonderful, where I found not the last ‘S’ but an exclamation mark instead.

So where was the last ‘S’? I eventually asked the record company and they confirmed it was meant to be on the ill-fated The Madness release, but licensing issues had arose. Since then, I’ve bought the CD/DVD version of The Liberty of Norton Folgate too, yet I’m still missing my ‘S’. And until that last Salvo double-set arrives, a section of CD rack at mine will bear the legend MADNES!

That fairly sums up my predicament. I never thought I was a victim of sales and marketing, but while I’ve never been a completist, it’s clear that my back-catalogue will never be complete. Meanwhile, the deluxe edition re-issues continue, and I dread to think what might follow this particular record company gimmick.

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Super sonik flight with Weller … again

In which Malcolm gives his own slant on the latest Paul Weller chart-topper, in a week that saw the Woking wonder back on our screens for a brand new series of  Later with Jools Holland.

Paul Weller: Sonik Kicks – another winner from the Woking wonder.

From the moment thumping bass complements abrasive synth on gruff opener Green and gives rise to searing guitar, I have to marvel at Paul Weller’s Sonik Kicks.

I’ve had a few weeks to absorb PW’s latest masterpiece now, and this is no retro-fest. For every echo of a glorious musical past, Weller continues to evolve – as relevant to today’s audience as he was with The Jam back in the day.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t shades of the past here. There are plenty. But when those influences stretch back to Revolver-era Beatles and include hints of his own back catalogue, there’s no shame in that.

On Green, the guitars suggest In The Crowd, but there are more difficult to decipher influences on super-catchy The Attic and Kling I Klang, a statement of musical intent beautifully posted within three songs.

Weller belies his 50-plus years throughout, carrying on apace where he left off with more recent career highlights 22 Dreams and Wake Up The Nation. The instrumental bridges between the songs are somewhat reminiscent of the former just on the right side of electronic and experimental – and help guide us from a frantic opening to more Style Council-friendly By the Waters.

If there’s any doubt that our man can still turn his hand to pop, That Dangerous Age – his answer to the myth of midlife crisis – follows, and before we know it we have a soulful duet with wife Hannah, Study In Blue, playing out in glorious retro-dub style.

The family links continue as Paul adds his own twist to his youngest daughter’s lyrics on a marvellously-brooding but dreamy Dragonfly, its bass riff getting under the skin as the song subtly builds.

The same goes for Syd Barrett tribute When Your Garden’s Overgrown, its early Pink Floyd, Move and Traffic influences to the fore. And a part-psychedelic pattern continues with Around The Lake, Drifters and further slow-builder Paperchase as we head for a glorious climax.

Then, just when you think you’ve got him sussed, the wondrous sign-off Be Happy Children – dedicated to his dad – has eldest daughter Leah sharing vocal duties, adding the sweetest soul sensibility to a ballad worthy of its Walker Brothers influence.

Perhaps that across-the-generations feel sums up Weller as he is in 2012. I’d like to think he’s still reaching out to new audiences. But while all the nods to the past are there – as ever – Paul is seemingly never in danger of becoming his own tribute act.

I wondered at one stage whether the Wild Wood and Stanley Road era marked the last of the high points in his glittering career. I’m not so sure now, these last three albums proving PW remains the creative force he always promised to be.

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