22 October 2009 (Music Premiership Preview)

"Que, Meester Benitez? All I sees wasa big red balls": Pepe Reina tries to explain Sunderland's goal to his Gaffer.

"I had the f*ckin' ball la, and a tought, that's boss, I'll through da bach in, like": Scouse child responsible for launching beach ball onto pitch.

"Why you looka so sad?It's-a not so bad, It's-a nice-a place, Ah, shaddapa you face": Jo Dulce, laying to rest all language stereotyping with his 1981 ditty.

Hooojeebooogeeeboooo. Clearly, the government's current policy of dealing with the financial downturn is fiscally prudent and well devised. It is sure to soon set us on the road to recovery, has little risk and with no extra cost to the taxpayer. Bark. Oh, and isn't it incredible what Simon Cowell has done for the music industry. If only we had more selfless, altruistic people like him with his whimsy, willing to discover untapped talent and delight the world without ever exploiting it. Arrooooooo. Speaking of talent, two words: John Edward, or 'Jedward,' what a clever fusion. Brilliant. Weeeeeezenimnim. Oooh, ooh, and isn’t that Katie Price the most unaffected looking woman with an inner beauty as radiant as her natural breasts. Garrrrruuuummmpppppphhhaaaa. Aw, Jaysus, I'm definitely displaying the signs of madness and a quickly depleting brain cell capacity. My ability to make judgements has been ravaged.

It's week two in the jungle, and the mania has gripped me, like a pair of Russell Brand's jeans. Groan. I spent the greater part of this morning talking to my shoe. Didn't get much out of him, but he had a strong brogue. Jesus. Okay, I have serious brain freeze, my fingers are numb, I smell like Vanessa Feltz's old bloomers, so I will only divulge what I have learned this week. Most of what I have been able to acquire has come to me in the form of a bird. Last week, I told you about the 'Correspondence Cow,' well, last night, I got a visit from the 'Homosa-pigeon.' Woken in the freezing cold and the night falling on me like a thick black blanket, I felt a large pecker on the back of my head. At first, I thought it was my conscience, but then it continued for what seemed like about ten minutes, until I finally rolled around to see this little fella. Chest out, in a tank top, boa and with exceptionally well groomed feathers. Around his facial hair area, he had fashioned what looked like a very smart pencil beard. He stood there on my chest, staring at me.

In between bouts of head bobbing that David Gray would be jealous of, he walked up and down me, tutting and waving his wings in a condescending manner. How do I know he was condescending? He took a crap on my Aran sweater and then ascended to a branch above my head before I could slap him with a haymaker. I stood up and brushed off my grass blankey. So there I am, face to face with this Camp Columbiform, this winged George Michael lookalike, and feral Frankie was about to be sent to Hollywood. I reached for the branch, but he just lifted and perched elsewhere, cooing and shaking his beady head. The thought occurred that I had never eaten pigeon, so windmilled my way towards him swinging like Kerry Katona leaving a nightclub. Eventually, I gave up and just collapsed. The little chap proceeded to swoop down and sit on my shoulder. I held out my arm in front of me and he minced his way down to my outstretched hand. Feeling like a modern day, cardigan clothed St. Francis of Assisi, I began to take a liking to the little guy's persistence. He winked at me then dropped a letter in my lap. I unfurled the missive and began to read.

Dear Aranman,

We are aware of your movements. You broke your contract and we will find you. The bird was suggested by your long-suffering Landlady and we are extending the opportunity for you to surrender yourself. It has become clear that you are using previously forbidden training techniques, namely 'sheep football' to enable the locals here to re-create Premiership matches. When you signed the confidentiality clause with us, you knew that these techniques are secret, and you are prohibited from divulging them to any third party. The fact that you have encouraged and enabled them to continue is to your serious detriment. As you continue to run from justice, you may not be aware that the most recent recreation was a disaster. In order to restage the 'Beach Ball Gate' incident between Sunderland and Liverpool, a swollen testicle was removed from one of the local bulls, leading to a rampage. Three bodies were removed from the local graveyard to imitate the commentary of RTE's famous Triumvirate and post match morticians Giles, Dunphy, and O'Herlihy. Our brothers at Montrose have been informed of the incident, and you will be stopped.

Give up Aranman.

WE KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

Your's Scinerely,
F.A.I. Special Forces

So, there you have it. Aranman is officially on the run. But, just before I head underground, here are a few words on my predictions for the weekend. Last week, as I fought off zero level temperatures, I correctly predicted Sunderland, Stoke, Arsenal, Spurs, and Manchester United to win, and Everton and Manchester City to draw, I also narrowly missed the Burnley Blackburn battle by one goal. Unfortunately, I was unable to use any of this to my advantage, as betting is banned by The 'Shari-aran' law on the island, and the fact that Turf Accountants don't trade in twigs.

The battle of the weekend will be at Anfield on Sunday. I hear that Aquilani is ready to start and that Gerrard is resting his right wrist, so his groin strain should have cleared up. The latest news on the grapevine is that Manchester City have already signed up the Official Liverpool Beach Ball that made its stunning debut last week. He appears to be Liverpool's MVP at the moment, and with Torres still out, Beachy's incisive passing will be missed by The Reds. I’m sitting on the fence with this one and will probably be picking the splinters out of my arse on Monday, because I'm going for the draw. Just when you think Liverpool are limping like a shot dog, they will jump up and bite you, so United would best err on the side of caution.

Sat 24th October 2009
Wolves v Aston Villa               12:45 (1 - 2)
Birmingham v Sunderland   15:00 (1 - 3)
Burnley v Wigan Athletic        15:00 (2 - 1)
Hull City v Portsmouth           15:00 (3 - 0)
Tottenham v Stoke City          15:00 (2 - 1)
Chelsea v Blackburn              17:30 (2 - 0)

Sun 25th October 2009
Bolton v Everton                    13:30  (1 - 1)
Liverpool v Man Utd             14:00  (2 - 2)
Manchester City v Fulham  15:00  (2 - 1)
West Ham Utd v Arsenal     16:15 (1 - 3)

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