The Fog on the Tyne is all his, not Gazza's

Sorry for that awful pun but I had to pay homage to this man:



That's right it's TV's very own handyman, Robson Green. My love for this man began a couple of years ago as I was flicking through the constant drivel that is daytime television when I reached Channel 5. It took me a while to take it all in. But yes, there was good old Robson sitting in a traditional American boozer with what can only be described as your stereotypical Redneck American, built like a brick outhouse, wearing a cowboy hat and proudly displaying an unkempt handlebar moustache. It may not seem strange at first but what followed has to be one of my favourite television moments of all time. Having spent five minutes convincing this man mountain to buy him a drink, he then ordered a glass of white wine. The look on the cowboy's face was priceless. And that was it, I was hooked to Extreme Fishing with Robson Green.



On the show he travels around the world trying the locals' way of fishing. Sometimes unsuccessfully. On one occasion he sought divine inspiration from a Buddhist monk but was warned that it is not good karma to eat your catch. To which Robson replied 'I need my tea'.
Robson has a habit of describing the fish he catches as "big, bastarding prehistoric creatures man." I can assure you that they are not prehistoric and I would hazard a guess that the poor little blighter's parents were married when they conceived him. Robson has coined a few catchphrases whilst making the show. Before every visit, he targets a particular fish he wants to catch and when he catches said fish, he proclaims "that's what we came for" whilst neatly covering his lob-on with his fishing rod (pun not intended this time). These catchphrases were of particular amusement one summer evening in Wales with Joel Miles as we passed the time wildly impersonating Robson saying them and taking 4 hours to finish a single game of darts.

So, while Phil Taylor's domination of darts is not going to end anytime soon; nor is my fascination with the career of the North-East's finest export. Robson, you're a hero.

Perhaps now people can forgive him for this?

Whatever happened to...

Freddy Adu?

First Post.

Having been a reader (and often critic) of other people's blogs for some time, I decided to write my own. To my knowledge I have appeared in two other blogs thus far. Well-respected local blogger and my future housemate Mark Critchley included me in his blog which listed the highlights of his year. I was included for joining him to watch a game of football in the sorry excuse for a 'pub' that was Derbibar. Mark Critchley claimed to be king of the aforementioned pub, a claim that I strongly disputed at the time. The other time I have appeared in somebody elses blog was in the wonderful anne frank's drumkit which I considered defunct until recently as it now appears to contain a chilling message from your friendly neighbourhood lunatic Raoul Moat. I'm hoping this is just Marcus' 'sense of humour' and not an actual beyond the grave warning from a madman. The sole reason for appearing in this infamous blog was because I went to a LC! gig, insulted a blind woman in the presence of her best friend, and jumped into some 14 year old hipsters.
All in all, my current blogger's CV isn't all that respectable. My aim for this blog is to a) do more interesting things to get mentions in other people's blogs (I love the attention) and b) to make my own blog fun for you to read. So to begin...

The idea to start my own blog came to me whilst watching Premier League Years 95/96 on Sky Sports. Of course this being the first year I properly got into football at the tender age of five, it was an interesting watch, looking back on a season of which I probably only watched a couple of games, but it was these couple of games that would turn me into an avid football fan and would begin my love for Man United.
However, it wasn't this non-nostalgic viewing that stuck out for me. It was Faustino Asprilla. Probably my all-time favourite player to never don a United shirt. He was a revelation in his three years as a Premier League player, tearing up defences but also tearing his muscles. His constant injury problems meant that his form was often inconsistent. In 97 he scored a hattrick against Barcelona in the Champions league when just a year previously he had been left out for the all-important final game of the 95/96 season when Newcastle knew that even a win wouldn't be enough to win the title (in the end Manchester United beat Middlesbrough 3-0 and it didn't matter anyway). I loved him.

His injury problems and my childhood obsession with Corinthian Prostar football figures are the inspiration behind the title of this blog. See, my Asprilla figurine had the same characteristics as it's rather more famous counterpart: it arrived in England injured. I was gutted when I got it home and it's legs were so bent that it couldn't stand up properly. However, I quickly understood in my infantile mind that this was the workers in the Corinthian sweatshop playing a little joke. They'd heard that Asprilla was injury prone and were determined to make his figure so for the spoilt little 6 year old kid growing up in the historic town of Lancaster. They did and that is the story of how Faustino Asprilla became my favourite black footballer of the 90s. (I didn't care too much for Andy/Andrew Cole)
There are other stories regarding my football figurines, namely the occasion upon which my cherished Peter Schmeichel figure got nicked. Sob. Sadly, that story will have to wait. Hope you've enjoyed my first blogpost.
Goodbye.