Entertainment Ireland

30 October 2009 (Premiership Preview)

"It is not these well-fed long-haired men that I fear, but the pale and the hungry looking" - Julius Caesar foretells the anorexic Liverpool

"His name is Rio and he dances in the stands" - Liverpool fans haunt Rio Ferdinand after Fernando Torres skins him for his first goal.

"Ach Refereeeee, Seeeeeennnd him OFF! I demand it. Now, gimme my decision or I'll scweem and scweem and waaaaaaaahhhhhhhh" - A diplomatic Alex Ferguson impersonates a cross between Bonnie Langford in Just William and Michael Flatley, after his impetulent jig on the Anfield touchline.

Through a pure stroke of luck, and that adage "fortune favours the fox" it seems that my human antennae are becoming more finely attuned to the surrounding wilderness. My survival instincts have taken on a level of heightened awareness akin to a veteran wild woodland creature. I have immersed myself into my role of "extreme survival expert" like a duck to water, unless of course the pond is based is Cork, where I would be poisoned by some rare mutant form of toxoplasmosis caused by the failure of the council to remove the algae, leaving me to slowly die in Agatha Christie  inspired, "mysterious" circumstances. So, better if you imagine my duck is Mark Lawrenson, and the pond a pukey striped shirt I want to dive into, the kind of thing you might wear to your own execution just to piss off the prison guards one last time. Well, that's me… I must admit, however, it has been more Yogi Bear than Bear Grylls. The opportunity to climb inside a camel and zip him up like a festering hairy sleeping bag, while simultaneously gorging on his rotting flesh, has not made itself known. Neither have I had to clamber across rocks on a fast moving river to launch myself on some unsuspecting marine life, tearing it's live flesh like some Aran wearing Gollum, grinning like a twat while spouting some redundant rhetoric about, "Ooh, and it's getting dark, I better eat this shit," and "If you ever find yourself stuck in a place like this, you must first consume your own urine to keep warm." Then, once filming stops, leaping off in the direction of the nearest roadside 4-Star, washing out the taste in your mouth with petrol and a match.



No, I have been pleasantly surprised at how accommodating my surrounds have been, and in particular a Fox that I befriended late in the evening on Tuesday. I was knackered after another unfruitful day of chasing squirrels, (or anything below knee height that didn't harbour wings) and set to getting some well needed kip. He had seen me sleeping up against a tree and mistaken me for one of the local farmhands. I came to, as I was being carried across a particularly hairy field, the nettles and long grass brushing off the back of my head and neck. Bouncing along, I noticed that my legs and arms had been hog-tied to a thick branch, and immediately I feared some kind of Lord Of The Flies scenario, where I would be ceremoniously sacrificed on a pyre, or worse, a Lost plot development, where I would be chased by a Polar Bear and large foot as my storyline devolved into a series of implausible developments, ultimately urinating in the face of my fans. I was paralysed by either outcome. A cloth had been placed across my eyes and I started shouting a series of expletives that I hoped might shake up my kidnappers. No-one answered my pleas apart from a horrible series of grunts, growls and whistles. I feared the worst... I thought, "Oh, no... they're frrOM OFFAAALY... AAAARRRGGGHHHH!" I was Aran-stew - finished, boiled, broiled and buggered, a cannibal corpse in a cardigan. My life flashed before me. Mammy knitting my first jumper by the fire, with me on her knee trying to grab the needles. First day at school, running home crying, because a bully had unravelled my jumper. Mammy grabbing the 'FIRST AID KNIT' and doing some repairs. I was just into my third emotionally charged image when we stopped, and I felt this furry hand scrape my face as it pulled up my blindfold.

My eyes blinked at the re-engagement with the light, but I was not prepared for the sight before me. Right in front of me was a rather dapper looking fox, up on his hind legs and sporting a toothy grin that spread across his face. Next to him was a badger, and next to him, what looked like a stoat or weasel. All were dressed like country gents who were caught short at the toilet, mini corduroy jackets, smart shirts and cravats, but no pants. "Fantastic," I muttered. "Not really, I’m quite standard and conventional," the fox replied. "I think you've got me mixed up with my cousin over in the U.K. Lives in Surrey? He's a flash bastard ever since he got his cider business on the go, but we don't talk much. Last thing I heard he had a Yank following him for a documentary." He proceeded to tell me about three farmers, who were causing himself and his buddies major problems. I felt a sense of deja-vu and suspected that this bitter chap was just regaling his cousin's exploits, but I let him continue… it was a talking fox for f**k's sake. Of course, I let him continue. "So, we have these three farmers who are wrecking our lives. Biggins, Brady and Boglin." At this point his face reddened and he squatted down. I grimaced, he apologised and then continued,

The first is a fat chap a theatre luvvie,
We think he's a queer one,
He still lives with Mummy,
The second, a player who used to be moany,
Now he sits at the table with Don Trappatoni,
The third once played hurling,
He is known as a Clare man,
Looks like a Boglin,
But we're sure is Ger Loughnane,

I passed out at this point. Not because he had astounded me with his linguistics but because after finishing his rhyming couplet, he launched at my face, knocking me out.

To Be Continued…

Below are my predictions for this weekend's activities. After riding a high and mighty wave following my correct predictions in Aran Man - Your Footballing Philanthropist: 16th October 2009 my wave crashed and left me bruised on the shore after last week's disastrous developments.

N.B. - If you are basing on supplementing your basic wage by betting on my predictions, then you’re children are sure to starve (Editor's note: next week is the beginning of the end for Irish bookmakers. Armed with our petty cash tin, AranMan will be hopping on his donkey and heading down to relieve them of their easy-earned cash. More on that next week)

Sat 31st October 2009
Arsenal v Tottenham 12:45 (2 - 2)
Big game of the weekend. North London Derby. Both are scoring freely with attacking football so expect goals Spurs are flying high at fourth in the league with Arsenal only one place above. Robbie Keane said, It will be judged at the end of the season but if you look at the bench we have, it is probably a bit stronger than their bench. Only B & Q are interested in strong benches but if Pavleychenko is unleashed he may have a point. Last years corresponding game saw a brilliant 4 - 4 draw and as Spurs haven’t beaten their North London rivals in 10 years I can’t foresee them winning this one.
Bolton v Chelsea 15:00 (1 - 1) Chelsea beat Bolton 4 - 0 in the Carling Cup at Stamford Bridge but this will be a different affair with The Trotters strong at home.
Burnley v Hull City 15:00 (1 - 2) Burnley hammered at home 3 - 1 by Wigan last week. I’ll give this one to Hull who are to prove they’re a “million percent behind” tanorexic Phil Brown.
Everton v Aston Villa 15:00 (1 - 2)
Fulham v Liverpool 15:00 (3 - 1)
Portsmouth v Wigan Athletic 15:00 (0 - 2)
Stoke City v Wolves 15:00 (1 - 1)
Sunderland v West Ham Utd 15:00 (2 - 1)
Man Utd v Blackburn 17:30 (3 - 1) This one is interesting because of the referee Phil Dowd. United have lost five of the 12 matches that Dowd has refereed in the Premier League. But, this will be a rebound to the defeat at Anfield and expect goals

Sun 1st November 2009
Birmingham v Manchester City 16:00 (1 - 3) The Brummies beat Sunderland here last week, but City will be a different prospect and will be hoping to break a run of four stalemates in a row.

NEXT INSTALLMENT OF ARAN MAN // PREVIOUS INSTALLMENT OF ARAN MAN

Back to Other Exclusives