Wednesday, 29 December 2010

Dear Roy Hodgson

Dear Roy Hodgson

I've supported Liverpool since I was too small to ride rollercoasters. This season has been a ride I wish I was too small for. Despite our recent successes in the last decade I'm not one of those unreasonable fans who expect us to win every trophy going and batter every team 4-0 I'm fairly low maintenance, I like my team to bleed for the shirt, chase every lost cause, to stand up for ourselves and never lose sight of our identity. I can name many games last season where despite losing it was often narrow margins, say an unfortunate deflection or an own goal, but I believed in my team. Our rich history and never say die attitude struck fear into opposition and often if they got a result over us they were grateful they got away with it. Tonight I've just witnessed my team get outplayed by Wolves (bottom of the league with the worst away record in the country) and they never broke a sweat. They worked hard and they were organized, but never really stretched, never really tested. I believe in Liverpool FC, but I don't believe in you. Your average Champ Manager player could figure out how to tactically outmanoeuvre us. Press high deny space to play from back so it goes long and win all the second balls. Pounce on any errors and use ball wisely to fashion yourselves a few chances, if you get a goal no need to sit any deeper just frustrate them as you were. We have no answer, it's not personnel; shy of a few players it's a team many favoured to win the title over a year ago, it's tactics. I have no personal beef with you, your ideas can be effective at midtable teams, not at Liverpool FC, not pass and move 18 league titles 5 European cups Liverpool. We've got a reputation to maintain you know. I'm sure you're a pleasant enough fellow but unlike the media I don't care if you're English or Venezuelan I care about what happens on the pitch. When I buy club merchandise I want the money spent wisely, not on old overpriced players that push perfectly good ones to the bench or out of the club. I don't want to come into work to be taunted for our latest embarrassment. You must be a proud man, as I'm a proud fan. So do what's right, walk away, everyone who isn't a Liverpool fan still loves you, you might get a crack at the England job if you wait around a year or so. Take a break, put your feet up. Saturday kitchen is a good watch give that a go. I'd rather see you happy spending time with your family than rubbing your face in the technical area like a bewildered dementia sufferer. You get paid well, hey treat yourself to a circulation booster, or one of those homedics massage things. You could try it on your face. You can hear the boos, you know Liverpool fans aren't quick to boo their team, we're not fickle or greedy to win. We know when we see a team lost for motivation, with no plan B. The owners might be looking at guys to replace you. Don't let them damage your pride walk out now with your head held high say it's not for you and I reckon you'd get applause if you ever find yourself in the opposition dugout. The press will say you were hard done by, your rep won't suffer too bad and Liverpool FC can get back to what it should be doing. No harm no foul.

Yours Faithfully
Phil Savory

Tuesday, 30 November 2010

Petrol Station Flowers

I got you some flowers

Some petrol station flowers

They smelt like greener diesel

They hadn't seen the sun for hours

I wasn't very organized

So those plants were my surprise

They only cost a small amount

I put them on the joint account

Your petrol station flowers

Those slightly flammable flowers

Please don't put your lighter there

I've got some pollen in my hair

Don't dump them on my office chair

There's a perfectly good vase right there

Petrol station flowers

Dissolving in the shower 

The next day your still mad me

I spoiled our anniversary

More so when I burned the tea

Just left with bread and mushy peas

Petrol station flowers

Instead of Alton Towers

She wanted just a nice day out

I said I'm skint, she said 'but how?'

I bought a new trombone online

She shoved it where the sun don't shine

A bum note then she said goodbye

Wednesday, 10 November 2010

Dolph Lundgren Q&A

Not much of a blog but just came out of an Empire webchat with Dolph Lundgren, Swedish man-mountain action star from Rocky IV, The Expendables, Universal Soldier etc. There's a picture of him learning to climb stairs. He's one of those run before you walk types... Seriously though from the various other questions he answered from others he came across as really down-to-earth and self deprecating. Much like Stallone seems. Plus he's proud of his work and his family is his greatest achievement so thats nice isn't it?

I managed two questions and in hindsight they aren't great. But anyway this is it:

philsavory says (13:02:00):
What do you eat for breakfast? standard stuff or a bowlful of nails and gravel?

Dolph Lundgren says to (13:02):
I'll try that bowl maybe one day, otherwise I'll go for the scrambled eggs.

philsavory says (13:31:47):
Is it true you could've been in the running man? Any other near misses for famous roles in the past?

Dolph Lundgren says to (13:33):
I think Running Man I have a faint memory of talking to someone about that before Arnold did it. Let's see. Not really. I know I read Gladiator way before Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe were involved, and I didn't like it much because it didn't have much action and was like a Greek play. I suppose that was stupid - I should have read it twice. It changed, it was a different movie, but still. Otherwise, not really.

So there you have it, he turned down Gladiator.. sort of. Makes you wonder what a Dolph Lundgren version would be like. Other things learned are that he has a degree in chemical engineering (which helps with his diet) and he is a keen drummer.

Sunday, 24 October 2010

Expensive Tastes

The North West Good Food Festival was my destination the other day. The normal £6 entry fee was avoided thanks to the charms of my prospective future mum-in-law. Basically to describe it is like a summer fete but only with the grub and no donkey rides. There was a massive horse though that had something to do with beer but I'm not sure what. Would be nice to think it could produce beer naturally, it really was as big as a brewery, but it probably couldn't.

So anyways under the massive tent was a series of stalls ranging from exotic cheeses and fine wines, to well... a man from Costco. Also in addition to this were a couple of demo spaces where celebrity chefs would cook for an audience. The one we watched was mainly based around household waste and meals you can make of stuff that leaks in your fridge or grows a fur coat. Doesn't sound to appetising but surprise surprise they rustle up something fancy out of it, although it's based around the thin concept of everybody having some cumin and turmeric lying around (yeah next to my unicorn's blood and Angel Delight). Muscling (ha) my way up to the chef to get first dibs (side note: I can't remember the chef's name but he had curly hair and was a little like a hairy biker crossed with Chewbacca, theres a blurry pic of him up top) the food was nice; a homemade pitta bread, with gone off chicken and gone off homemade chicken tikka with not gone off cous cous. It was claimed to cost about 5p to me. Well I shop at Tesco, not next door's bin; I challenge anyone to find cumin for under 5p without stealing from the elderly or robbing a housewife at gunpoint (which if i did stoop low enough I'd at least take her exercise bike as well).

In and around all this of course were the stalls and what a wonderful cornacopia of culinary cuisine they were. That wasn't all sarcasm either, there was some genuinely brilliant stuff. I don't like cheese raw; I like it melted on stuff, but there was a curry cheese and a sticky toffee cheese I could and did take handfuls of. Seeds, BLOODY SEEDS that would give Fox Mulder an erection (anyone remember X-Files?) covered in chocolate; the seeds that is. The best and most expensive ice cream I've ever had, plus a 'momo' which is a Tibetan delicacy of beef or veg in a dumpling. Didn't seem that Tibetan but because I couldn't identify any herbs in there I gave it the benefit of the doubt. Homemade pies and puddings, fancy cupcakes too nice to eat, brownies too big to eat, organic veg too wonky to eat. I'm never one of those people to get behind organic produce over all else, it's just wonky veg really isn't it? If it's had less done to it why pay more?

Food at one point became quite secondary. I was cajoled into champagne sampling, to my previous knowledge the math was wine+fizz=champagneX6=where am I and why is there a condom hanging out of my arse?

I was wrong, champagne is a sweet science, I sampled four top vintages all from specific champagne regions and the third bottle in particular was 'spectacular' it had the deftness of the first sample and the depth of the second. If anything could be my crunk juice that'd be it, I forgot the name something grand and very French. Slightly sozzled from bubbly it was goaded around my system by white wine, mulled wine, red red wine (stay close to me-e-e) and port. I generally hate them all but actually enjoyed most if not all of them and it also allowed me to view the rest of the day in a bleary haze.

I still remembered a fair bit, I got a free rice measurer and a pen of some woman; watched a man grate garlic using only a plate and came to a stand with luxury chocolate from Northamptonshire 'ah the taste of home!' I thought, the nice chap explained the flavours and when I asked whereabouts in the county it was from he said Corby. I laughed in his face for a good couple of minutes. Then walked away.

Monday, 18 October 2010

Right Hand Man

Alfie zips up his jeans in celebration of what followed removing them, catching his breath as Lauren fluffed the pillows, ignoring the rest of the mess in the bedroom. 

'Can you nip out to the shops I'm starving.' She demands.

'I'll go to the chippy, what do you fancy?'



'Shut up you!' she responds whilst lobbing a once fluffed pillow.

With a peck on the cheek Alfie leaves wallet and all with the aim of being back before Corrie. Breezing through the gate he sees in the distance his new neighbour looming. They had met previously and shared an awkward beer. Alfie had to quickly decide when and if he just makes eye contact, does he stop and chat? What's he going to talk about? As they approach each other Jim the neighbour smiles broadly, whether he likes it or not he's in stop and chat territory now. Pleasantries are exchanged 'we should do something', 'yeah', 'how's Lauren?', 'yeah, I mean good' all the while Alfie's stomach grumbles as if it wants to be in the conversation or is just telling Jim to fuck off. 'Well be seeing you Alfie!' as he extends his right hand they shake firmly and it's all over. Textbook manshake, off to the chippy.

A tenner ejects itself from the cashpoint saying it's goodbyes to all the other notes for a life of wild adventure but probable retail career and after fending off the council kids after a fag, Alfie orders what he always does. Producing the tenner he emphatically places it in the cashier's palm, with an unintended chunk of skin contact. Completely innocuous Alfie heads home and dishes up.

Lauren chews like a cement mixer but stops when she notices Alfie pause. She asks what the matter is and as Alfie sniffs his right hand he looks back at her in horror.

'Jim's shaken hands with your muff!'

'You what?!'

'I didn't wash my hands before I left, I shook his hand with my muff hand!'

'Your what hand?'

'My muff hand, from earlier! Oh and Mrs. Singh in the chippy! Got a right big chunk of her hand too!' 

Lauren can only giggle, nothing can be done now but the thought of crossing Jim's path again makes her shiver.

Later that night Jim Toll snuggles up to Mrs Toll putting the hot water bottle to one side; as close a sign of romance as he knows. He sweeps her hair to one side in order to kiss her but she recoils in shock.

Alfie and Lauren hear screams, plates crashing and after five minutes a loud knock at the door. Mrs Toll has gone away with no word of when or if she'll return. The muff hand struck the first chance it could innocently crushing Jim's life with it's sweaty passion fragrance. Alfie ashamedly hides the marriage murder weapon in his pocket, apologizing over and over. Once Jim is relieved of angry mob duty and their porch is cleared Alfie reflects on his heinous act, wondering what Mr. Singh will think if he were to smell Mrs. Singh's hand, accuse her of lesbianism, the chip shop burning to the ground under hot fat and kebab grease. Where would he go for a takeaway now?

Lauren being a woman of needs, waits expectantly in her lingerie on the bed the next evening. Beckoning Alfie to her. He draws in closer guiding his right hand to her panties.


'Alfie come on!'

'I think I'll use my left from now on.'


That Justin Bieber is so hot right now...

Did you know that....

1) The only thing Bieber has on his toast is crack.

2) He doesn't tweet, he has a Cambodian child do it for him under his name.

3) Justin Bieber is an extension of Lady Gaga, she deploys him from a secret pouch above her womb when required.

4) He only has velcro on his trainers. He says he has no time for laces but we know the truth....

5) As a precaution later in life he is constructing a beard from his own pubes in case he is unable to grow facial hair and be taken seriously.

6) He is the illegitimate child Usher refers to having on his album Confessions. He doesn't pay child support but likes to hang around anyways, play catch and party.

7) He walks into glass windows/doors to get attention and to aid his addiction to injury scamming.

8) He has no time for the homeless, he never wears a real watch.

9) His hair is half real, half Playmobil.

10) He puts his left leg in, his left leg out, in out, in out, shakes it all about. He kicks homeless over and he turns around, that's what he's all about clap clap.

Peter Andre: The Next Chapter...I Mean Me

If my life were an ITV2 reality show, they'd have to severely pad it out with adverts. However it's not all been dull, I re-arranged my DVD's the other day....

It's a time of transition, adjusting to the grown-up lifestyle of living with my girlfriend and dinner parties, watching programmes I'm not interested in while sneakily scanning my blackberry for footy news, taking out the rubbish and commenting on the price of fuel. It's all heavy stuff, especially furniture up two flights of stairs. Many things have taken a backseat over the last few months, family, friends, writing but hopefully I can see the dust clearing and a little space in between (hence getting off my arse; sorry getting on my arse; to blog).

My Mum turns 50 this week, which reminds me that in March I'll be halfway there myself. With my Dad's 50th following soon after childhood is so distant to me now, I'm growing older with them rather than it always feeling just the same. We're all ticking down to the inevitable, we never get enough done, life is a waste etc, some of my cheery bedtime thoughts when Mrs. S is asleep.

But it's not all doom and gloom, far from it! Liverpool have new owners (yes!) ignoring the fact that the team are playing like kitchen appliances, although I think I fridge freezer would defend set-pieces better and a wok could show more ambition than Christian Poulsen in midfield. I'm getting more and more ideas for stories, at least two I feel are real winners (one story is even about winning) and I hope I can finish them both by Christmas with enough material to probably fill a copy of Heat, not that I'd ever want that to happen, people would get pissed off that the TV guide was missing.

Plus while I enjoy making the worst of the situation I really enjoy living with the missus. I'm a darn sight healthier, sleep a lot more, wear ironed clothes and discuss X Factor. My brief thoughts on X factor: Matt Cardle to win, Cher needs a new face, Mary Byrne and Wagner to have a child who can tour with them on bongos, John Adeleye is lovely but limited and half of the shows is a complete waste of time and pyrotechnics.

What you lose from living with your best mates you gain in other areas. Neither one is better than the other just life goes forward I guess and in five years it could be a whole other phase or way of life. Plus I've got a new bank account, A nice Natwest man who looked like or possibly was Joseph Fiennes insured my mobile and saved me money on travel insurance. I don't need travel insurance the farthest I'm going this year is Blackpool next week but still nice to know.

Another string to my man-bow is the ability to barndance. It was charity enforced; my Aunt organised an event for the Northamptonshire Air Ambulance and to be honest the tombola was where the real action was but if you were there you would've seen me wooing cougars left, right and centre. It's a bit like in Titanic just before Leo and Kate shag when they're dancing about but in a leisure centre with a buffet. The dancing involved so much partner swapping they might as well have left a bowl by the front door for all the car keys. It was a lot of fun and I would recommend it just for the cardio workout alone.

Thursday, 6 May 2010

10 Nick Clegg Facts, but which are true?

Nick Clegg is ace and here's why...

1: He was born in Chalfont ST Giles, which is cockney rhyming slang for piles or haemorrahoidadoids.... hemorhoids.... hammerrhaids.....
But don't hold that against him.

2: Whilst in Munich (place not film) he was convicted of burning cacti. It's unknown if there is any anti-cactus leglisation in the Lib Dem manifesto because I couldn't be bothered to read it.

3: He once starred with Helena Bonham Carter in a play about AIDS. Her head has since inflated severely...

4: He won a Financial Times journalism award in 1993 and his prize was a trip to Hungary. Hrmmm.

5: He is an excellent tracer, tracing many famous artworks and selling them on ebay under the seller name 'haroldbishopRIP' after his favourite Neighbours character.

6: He speaks six languages; English, Dutch, French, Spanish, German and Na'vi. Ok five languages.

7: An anagram of Nick Clegg is Egg 'n' Click, which was a sitcom he tried to get off the ground about an egg and tv remote who as he puts it 'live togther and get into compromising and amusing situations'.

8: He hosts regular town hall meetings at his constituency and is willing to take questions on any topic. Except cacti. He hates cacti.

9: His favourite song he says is Changes by David Bowie. Which is too obvious to be true, it is in fact Liquid Dreams by O-Town.

10: His favourite film is supposedly a French drama called The Class; again bollocks, it's White Chicks.

Thursday, 11 February 2010

The Wolfman

Whilst watching The Wolfman last night I learned several things..

1. This film is clearly made by Americans as the foggy English town of Broadmoor seems to be a stones throw from London yet it's townsfolk display every regional accent (mostly northern) in britain.

2. The cast are very talented but seemed to get duped at the last minute when their director gets changed into the guy who did Jumanji and their lauded script by the guys who wrote Seven and American Beauty gets put through a shredder.

3. No character has any logical response to being afraid, only the need to do something stupid to put them in an even more dangerous position. Like Jordan doing all those jungle challenges.

4. Benicio Del Toro looks more and more disappointed with himself and the film as it goes on, by the end he doesn't seem to give a shit.

5. Anthony Hopkins is so ambitious with his character he doesn't want one accent he wants five, he goes from Hannibal Lecter to Sean Connery within the same sentence at times.

There are more but simply put The Wolfman feels like something that seemed a very good idea at the time but became more and more half arsed. Imagine a man who decides that one Sunday he's going to clean out his garage and all the junk and then after working for a bit he starts to get bored and tired and finds things he doesn't want to throw out even though he doesn't need them and then he realizes time is getting on and there are better things to do so he hastily shoves all the mess into a corner and pretends to himself that he really nailed it and can ignore all the things he intended to do and never did.

The components of The Wolfman seem all great, great cast, writers with big reputations, Danny Elfman, lots of fog and candles, Rick Baker (who does the awesome effects in American Werewolf in London) but at the last minute the original director quit, maybe because his ideas weren't commercial enough or maybe he just lost faith in it. Either way Joe Johnston came in (Jumanji, Honey I Shrunk the Kids and Jurassic Park III) to try and get the job done. He obviously had a tough job at short notice but the film plays out with a series of walking in foggy woods and something makes you jump, to walking down creaky corridors and what's that? Oh it's just the dog and then something else makes you jump again right after. They're cheap cliched scares and there are so many of them you don't really get much sense of story or tragedy in what happens.

Benicio Del Toro is the grieving brother of a dead, er, brother who is sent home at the request of his dead brother's grieving widow Emily Blunt (I should re-do that sentence). He's an actor but she seems to mistake him for Columbo, then he mistakes himself for Columbo and sets about trying to solve the mystery of his brothers death and after about ten minutes of detective work and asking some gypsies gets mullered by a werewolf, then after suspicion from the towns folk and protection from his suspicious and morally indifferent father Anthony Hopkins (who is plain bizarre and not even sure himself of what his character is supposed to be) becomes a werewolf, makes Emily Blunt fall in love with him by being the only guy her age around the place and kills people. An interesting element in a mental asylum never seems to play out as well as it should and there's plenty of gore and things to jump at, but not much in the way of sense or drama.

The Wolfman will appeal to those who like to be scared but not unsettled, there's limited character and despite a great cast nobody really gets a lot to do.


Hugo Weaving as Inspector Abberline is just right, weary with a touch of humour and somebody who is brave for a reason. My favourite moment was of him ordering a pint of bitter in monotone Agent Smith manner. Shows how hard it was to find a highlight.

Anthony Hopkins and the teddy bear's picnic gone wrong end fight. Just stupid and lame.