You'll recall that for some years we had a spaniel named Jessica. Towards the end of her life there were frequent trips to the vet and each time we were treated with compassion and genuine empathy. I can still picture the look in the vet's eyes as she took us through the options to bring Jess' life to an end with some degree of comfort and most importantly no more pain. Every time Gary Lineker introduces Fulham on Match of the Day I get pangs of recognition.
Not to shed light upon magic but I have to confess that I had this prepped and ready to run only for your boys to spoil things and throw in a 1-0 win on Saturday. If only you could play Newcastle every week. Down in the lower leagues with my lot I have had to estimate whether we'll get relegated if we follow current form and lose every game until the end of the season. Our prospective new owner has just been found guilty of tax evasion. The perfect person for Leeds then. Seeing as we're doing sport news RVP comes back from the dead with a hat trick and carries the cabal of strangers, to themselves and the tenets of football strategy, previously known as MUFC into the quarter finals of the champions league. The Liverpool fans in the office are starting to echo Stephen Gerrrarrrrd and believe that they're going to win the league. I'm still trying to decide if I could cope with the smugness overload such a championship would instill. The Six Nations drew to a close and we can all be thankful that neither the French or the Welsh won it. England was filled with youthful promise with a style of play that was pretty watchable. That said, if I never hear swing low sweet chariot being sung at Twickenham I'd be a happy man. Love the team, hate the supporters.
Wednesday saw George Osborne annouce this year's budget. Anyone would think that we were close to an election with all the pandering to the grey vote. If UKIP get any more decent by-election results in the home counties we can surely expect tax rebates for flood defences made from illegal immigrants/insert replacement lazy guardianista cliche of choice. Stuart Lee contests that increasingly the Conservatives are placing themselves beyond satire. This was reinforced last night by Grant Shapps, their chairman, championing the budget by tweeting a poster entitled "Bingo!" with the caption "Cutting the bingo tax & beer duty to help hardworking people do more of the things the enjoy". Whether it was a hideously misplaced jape or a naked attempt to keep the proletariat in line it demonstrates a level of political debate that can only garner wider public engagement. Either that or we'll just get pitched a set of fears that score highly in focus groups.
"Can I quiese your farm?" was the strangest opening line I faced this week. They could have said "turn off". They could have said "servers go sleepy bye bye". But no, they went with quiese and I have to confess a new word entered my lexicon.
In other news a passenger jet stays lost in South East Asia. Despite all the fears of terrorism Wired published an article from a pilot suggesting that this was an instrument fire in a cockpit resulting in the pilots flying without electrical aids. The search continues and he story remains high in the news but I bet more people died in Syria in the last week.
Break out the new romantics, shoulder pads and metal mickey. The 80s are back and with it the cold war. The Crimea has voted "strongly" for adoption into the Russian state. The region simmers. Sanctions are imposed. The Russians, who unlike the previous cold war from the position of being one of the world's major oil and gas producers look on with indifference and barely concealed contempt.
Today, the sun reached a position above the equator since the passing of winter.. This formally marks the start of spring so the weather forecast for the weekend is obviously for early morning frosts. I thought I'd throw that in as I can only presume that your current locale is more climatically favourable. Back up a few lines of latitude my cycle shorts remain in their drawer. The dreams of summer remain just that, bar last night when I awoke before my alarm consumed with thinking about photons and the implications of them having no mass. I tried to engage the Toothpaste Baron of Spofforth on the matter but they queried whether 5 a.m. was the best time to instigate such a debate.
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