• The Strand was a cut-through street, unadopted by the rate-payers, pot holed, pitted, pock-marked, forgotten by Tarmac layers. Houses were big, gardens once grand, with flint and dry stone walling, but no lights to guide you home at night the police presence was appalling. I walked through there every evening, after rigorous football practice, broken […]
  • Money CAN buy you the title, In fact, money is absolutely vital, Money could convince Ellton John to do a piano recital, But money can’t buy you Stones, Money CAN buy you referee’s Money CAN buy you Belgians, at inflated fee’s, Money pays private doctors to re-construct knee’s, But money can’t buy you Stones. Money […]
  • With just a stone, he stood all alone, Then played out the weekends big matches, In his minds eye, from forty yards let fly, from shoes full of scuffs and scratches. A couple of sweet volleys hit discarded shopping trolleys, then a diving header at the foot of the post, but a mesmerising dribble, right […]
  • Our Spain, isn’t the Spain, of how THEY would know it, Lee, Spender, Spencer, the 1930’s poets. Our Spain, is the Spain, of bankrupt Fiesta, Torres, Xavi, Fabragas, Arbaloa, Iniesta. No rusty carbines, fired from behind Olive trees, Now it’s pass, pass, pass, That brings opposition to their knees.
  • I remember, like it was yesterday, Me, Mulraney, O’Brien, McStay, Said “No” to triple time Bank Holiday pay, to watch the would-be Champions, play. “You must be mad”, said the McAlpines Clerk, “It’s three days money, for one, you jerks. . . . ” What did he know, that quilt from Falkirk, theres more to […]