Stoopid

Watched Sicario (again) recently. Decent, but it reminded me of the best film I've seen touching on this subject, Sin Nombre (Without Number). More about emigration north into the USA, but one of the drug gangs, MS 13, is absolutely central to it. Pretty tough watch at times, but incredibly honest and resonant.

Think this might be happening with Sheff Utd to some degree. Most people seem puzzled by the Wilder thing. But a mate of mine, who's a big Blades fan rang me earlier, and was actually pretty happy he's gone. According to him, most of his friends will be in agreement. Hard to argue with that really, when you look at them this season.

Didn't know it was a crime to hate Scotland!

Think that's the Viking influence. Leics, Notts and Derby were part of the Danelaw, whereas Northants wasn't. As you say, there's a big difference almost as soon as you cross the Northants border.

Ok, I get it may be an acquired taste.I just happen to like it, that's all. Often maligned, but I think it has a directness and - often - humour that appeal to me. Also, it's not widely known or mimicked, and that helps to avoid the kind of self-parody some more obvious accents seem to bring.

Whereas growing old is realising that Jeremy Clarkson is an unfunny strange younger man...

Sorry, I'm not having that. I'm just not.

I suppose Oprah's so rich and powerful that no-one's felt able to say to her er, Oprah, maybe you want to think again about those glasses?

Strange to mention it though.

Used to live up the road from here. Often nipped in for a pint. Decent boozer, and maybe not as bad as the Midland, further down the Saff. Rough as R.Soles. Irish bloke called Leary ran it for a while. Few nights passed without a punch-up.

Spent a lot of time - too much, on reflection - in the Mag. Nowhere quite like it. Actually nowhere remotely like it. Some of the best and worst times I ever had took place within its smoke-smeared walls. Lot of mates there - still see some, but as you imply, its closure left a lot of lost souls vainly searching Leicester for another spiritual home. The kind of place that doesn't really exist anymore.

Good memories of the Charlotte, even before Andy Wright's time (when it became a serious music pub). They used to run a football team, Newarke Wanderers, who I played against a few times. Also the Mag - a pretty unique place - some great parties in that upstairs room. Used to put on bands (and comedy too) up there too. Also Tjinder Singh (Cornershop) worked behind the bar for a while. Good boozer for a few pints before (and after) the match.

Don't mind golf - it's got a weird zen quality that sort of appeals to me.

Have to say, retirement's fine by me. There again, I never really bought into the 9 - 5 view of the world or being a wage slave for the purpose of affording stuff you're supposed to want. In truth I could do without most of it. Not sure what 'embourgeoisment' is, but I never had any desire to join the middle-classes. What people tend to forget about us oldies is that we grew up in the 60s, most of us, and quite often retain the pretty weird and non-materialistic views of that time. Not having to go to some yes-boss workplace everyday gets my vote.

Agreed. Though I'm not sure which I find dullest - Motorsport or Tennis. Just don't get the obsession with cars etc that so many people seem to have. Genuinely think the world would be a better place if they'd never been invented. As for tennis - dear God, I can't stick it.

Sad news about Ian St John. Very tidy player, and of course part of the fondly remembered Saint and Greavsie, which kind of changed the way football was approached by the media. Till them it veered between po-faced or condescending, often both at the same time. Difficult to overstate how much they changed punditry for the better.

The fact they sent sunglasses though. Sounds a bit shady to me...

Had mine a couple of weeks ago. Worst thing about it was looking at the other people queuing up and thinking 'Blimey, am I as old as these bleeders? '

Yeah - missed out the p there. When I started drinking in pubs - just pre-decimal - bitter was 1/10d a pint; that's about 9p I guess. Went up (along with everything else) when the 'new' money came in (Feb 71) to 2 bob or 10 a pint. Cue widespread outrage. Seems quaint now, but I suppose it's more or less the same in terms of disposable income. Except there were a hell of a lot more pubs, so competition kept the prices low. Also booze culture was perhaps more pervasive then.

In 71 I had a Saturday job at Woolies. £1/10 (£1.50) for the day. Beer was about 10 a pint. Still shit money though.

Well, I'm a little older - basically grew up in the 60s in inner Leicester - round Highfields, and I stand by what I said. Strictly cob city mate.

'Bap' is just a term that was never used in Leicester when I was growing up. Maybe now - when admittedly the language has become more generic, less specific - certainly less regional - things have changed. 'Cobs' could be hard or soft by the way.

Sounds like the same plot-line as 'Day of the Triffids.'

Recall seeing him playing George Orwell in a TV thing, about the later part of his life, writing 1984 on a Scottish Island. Pretty good, from memory. Also think he was Chamberlain in that Gary Oldman film about Churchill.

Good point. One bloke looks much like another when he's covered in coal-dust!