QuoteNot when you can't concentrate on the football.Originally Posted by awec
You don't enjoy a bit of horn blowing then?
Not when you can't concentrate on the football.
Regina's on my mind. What a woman.
I thought I'd escaped the crap weather in Ireland but now it's snowing in Madrid.
Extratime.ie
Yo te quiero, mi querida. Sin tus besos, yo soy nada.
Abri o portão de ouro, da maquina do tempo.
Mi mamá me hizo guapo, listo y antimadridista.
Feck off you, it's years since I've seen snow!
Not many people know that Bosco grew up to be Ryan Tubridy!
LESS OF THE BULL NOW!
I'm supposed to be in Dublin with a few great people, instead I'm sitting on my couch with my laptop because I've got no money. Ok, that's a lie, I've got e1.65
Don't mind kissin but I do hate that.
Wibble
Good evening!
Not this week but I reckon I know someone that does , Jonathan Pearse , is this man blowing John Terry and Frank Lampard, he has to be the most jingoistic commentator on the BBC and thats some achievement.
I'll update this next year.
no wonder lampard & terry look so happy...heard his commetary last night on bbc about lampard & terry unbeliveable crap
" football is a simple game "
Pearse has actually toned it down. You should have heard him years ago on SKY.
He once manically referred to Spurs ground as "THE LANE OF PAIN!!!!!!" following the clubs run of poor results and the rumoured infighting that was taking place.
Quoting years at random since 1975
That was quite fair, as not so long ago, that particular street was famous for it. It has been plagued by different diseases over the years, some quite virulent. The cholera epidemic that swept Europe in the 1830s left it's mark there, as did the Spanish Flu. More recently, a variant disease caused great agonies to many when White Hart Lane was struck by the lesser known Rohan Ricketts...
That question was less stupid, though you asked it in a profoundly stupid way.
Help me, Arthur Murphy, you're my only hope!
Yeah - on reflection, I think he knew what he was doing there. Method in the old madness.
He knew the "LANE OF PAIN" reference would spark some interest amongst viewers - who'd be compelled to investigate the origins of the reference and the myriad diseases that have agressively obliterated its communities for centuries.
Didn't a strain of "Klinnsmannitis" strike there a few years back. Its symtoms involved a bizarre compulsion to dive on the ground exclaiming "TECHNO!!!" in a German accent?
A quick Google confirms that Pearce is a respected member of the "Education through Punning Society".
Quoting years at random since 1975
This is absolutely correct, but somewhat incomplete - though completeness in the story of the scourge besetting The Lane requires a level of cognition beyond mere mortals, for even an acute nose for these things amongst the local parishioners has failed to fully explain the strange curse.
It was felt the pestilence abated for some time in the middle of the last century, a time when the clean-shaven and fastidiously sanitised Bill Nicholson reigned. It is no surprise that this was an era of great success for the Spurs, and one which expectedly contrasts with the time of the mangy Gerry Francis.
Tracing the re-emergence of "The Pain" is an oft-debated story. Many experts feel that there was something suspicious about the arrival of Ray Clemence at the club. Unbeknownst to the Club authorities at the time, when Ray was a young fella he changed his name by deed-poll from the frightening title of Ray Bees. Upon public revelation of this fact in the early 1990s, all trace of Mr Clemence/Bees was wiped from the Club's history, including all team-photos, wherein Mr Clemence/Bees' head is substituted with an oversized parsnip, for reasons which aren't entirely clear.
Anyway, through the 90s the problem continued and even became exacerbated, with rival fans picking up on the general mank emanating from the Club. "Dirty Jews" became a common and regrettable name for the loyal adherents to the cause of The Club Of Strange Smells And Odd Diseases.
Hope and endeavour are common at the Club, however, and it was this determination that saw an extra-terrestrial demon brought on board (only demons can truly kill scourges). Taking the form of Stuart Nethercott to ensure regular access to the ground and to avoid arousing suspicion (though there were many who said Stuart couldn't be human he was so shit), the demon worked his lotions, potions and assorted tricks to try relinquish the scourge's infecting grip on the Lane.
The demon felt all was going well. That was until Birmingham City came to visit for a pre-season game. Since that day things, for some reason, have remained painful. The demon failed and loped back off from whence he came. Some force more powerful than he vanquished him. His concluding suspicion is that the only plausible explanation lies in the sock of Dele adEBOLA, that the sock somehow, as if livened by a deadly virus, strangled the demon's source of nourishment - a special mineral that came up from the drain in the Visitor's Dressingroom.
And so on The Lane struggles, infested with all kinds of noxious and debilitating little things. José Dominiguez was one such little thing. Ruel Fox another. But not even the most jovial of followers could muster a smile at learning that the name of Ruel Fox rhymes with a deadly disease known as Small Pox. Nor did they see anything funny about Gary Doherty's extreme case of gingervitis.
Some say that's just the way it's meant to be. While others opine that lanes are simply dirty, smelling, painful places by their very nature, good for nothing except as an emergency p1ssing location, which perhaps goes someway towards explaining the origins of this whole sorry story.
And so you have it. "Irony, Intrigue and Ill-health - the real history of The Lane."
From acorns ..........
I love the educational qualities of Foot.ie
I'll update this next year.
A most bizarre series of paranormal events indeed. One should note that the club has always attempted to combat the squalor and ill-health. In the late 1950s a complex ritual of Ditchburning was undertaken by the goalkeeper in an attempt to drive off the miasma of bad air. Later in the decade natural herbalist potions were tried, notably the Blanchedflower but even in the 1970s players were still suffering from the Schivers. The various medics were exposed as quacks and the club's chief doctor was ridiculed as a Pratt culminating in his exile to a Latin Villa. Ancient methods persisted in the 1980s including the use of medieval medicinal Falconary, conducted by a group of common Crooks in series of local Parks at an extortionate Price. Medical Hazards of pestilence persisted as late as the 1980s and 1990s. Indeed Howells of agony reverberated around the ground on match days. Legal inquests followed but each court case only resulted in a hung Durie and the Scales of justice failed to resolve or diagnose the root cause. As the millennium approached the club attempted to usher in a new era in medical care, importing the esteemed psychiatrist Dr S. Freund, but again to no avail...
Just spoke with Johnathan Pearce there.
He said we're all wrong and talking a load of old boll*cks.
He just meant that Spurs were having a bad time of it in the league and came up with a lame reference to "THE LANE OF PAIN".
Bit of a turn up for the books, eh??
Quoting years at random since 1975
My estimation of his grasp of matters historical has plummetted. I am starting to fear for what I had previously thought were other astute comments, subtler than at first they seemed. I may take February off as a result of this shock.
That question was less stupid, though you asked it in a profoundly stupid way.
Help me, Arthur Murphy, you're my only hope!
Like, would ya?
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