The Dutch state windmiller most kindly invited one to sit a few rows below the Scottish pen at the Barça-Celtic home leg in our version of the Coliseum a fortnight ago. Above, once they had recovered from the disappointment of queuing for non-existent alcoholic beer, the heroes (MP3) clambered up the netting and bellowed their glorious sectarian anthems. Meanwhile our neighbours bickered and grumbled (MP3; Joan Laporta = 2-tuba Fafner?) like souk vendors on a quiet day, chomping their sandwiches, slurping their camomile tea, and struggling to come to terms with the emotional consequences of supporting the Best Team in the World. Pío Baroja would have found here evidence for his theories of European ethnicity, and he might even have enjoyed the football.
I haven’t played football for 10 years – my last, inglorious efforts were in the company of fat, hirsute academics who thought it amusing to play National Front pub teams on Saturday mornings as a means of working off their hangovers. However, I love going to matches, though the beer issue means I tend to prefer local teams. From what happens to Jeff Schwensen in Safety Not Guaranteed, it appears that even this small freedom is denied to the American public.
The recordings are Barbirolli/LSO from God knows when.
- Several Viennese musical curiosities
Karl Nagl’s claim that, unlike the Germans, Viennese organ-grinders are musicians, because they have “crank-sense.” And female yodelling with Dudlerinnen Trude
- Face-fart fines
Mediaeval local legal codes, fueros, all contain passages like the following, taken from the Fuero de Bejár (1290s):
Tom Shields in his excellent sports column in the Sunday Herald makes the interesting claim that: Camp Nou was turned into a
- The true story, never revealed, of the barrow organ
There’s more to this eggcorn than Somerset genius.
- Wesley Willis
Has got to be in there somewhere: Lyrics: Suck a polar bear’s funky ass! Suck a racehorse’s cock with Heinz Tomato Ketchup! Suck a donkey’s