onionbagblog

The soundtrack for American Graffiti - a double CD as well. You know how fond I am of doubles.

I love this film, almost as much as I now love the soundtrack. It use to be a consistently strong seller when I was working on the market store in the early 80’s. For a period of around three years it seemed to sell at a steady pace, week in, week out.

I never saw the appeal at the time tbh. It was old man rock ‘n’ roll music. Oh the irony of being turned on my psychobilly at the time, and not really making the connection.

American graffiti is hit after hit after hit, as Wolfman Jack might say. I’m being drawn back to rock ‘n’ roll later in life: the music, the clothes, erm, the hair.

Wasted on youth, etc.

Another scrolling session down the Sky Sports menu ahead of KO.

If it’s a Wednesday evening, then we myst be on Sky Sports F1, right?

I wasn’t sure if Forest were kicking off in pole position at Molineaux, or if we had come to park the bus.

Don’t crash the car, fellas.

Molineaux didn’t sound like a happy place. If fact it sounded a lot like Midtjylland at home - a game that has now gone down in Forest folklore as a metaphor for a footballing shit show.

The home fans were apathetic. They couldn’t even be arsed to boo MGW.

Anderson ran the game. That’s pretty much all you need to know. It’s no hyperbole to hint that he’s the best midfield talent this country has had since Gazza. All that’s missing is the goals.

Forest went 1-0 up with a Jesus header.

Oh wait.

FUCK VAR, etc.

Sure, Ndoye was way offside. But why the five minute wait for the ref to rule on what everyone else had already seen?

Wolves were an absolute shambles in the first half. But they came out fighting at the start of the second.

Steady the buffers, Forest.

Morato has always got a mistake in him. Now would not be a good time to be reminded of this.

It was a bit of a huff and puff effort to get over the line. Just win, just BLOODY win. I’d take an ugly three points and GTFO of here.

Don’t come back. Never again. etc.

SEE YA, Wolves.

Thankfully Jesus had a Second Coming (stop it). He can perform miracles in the air, for such a short player.

I can’t get enough of seeing Woan and Stone celebrate on the touchline wearing the badge. You get the impression they feel the same.

Another VAR nightmare followed for the Yates penalty claim. Once again, absolutely no one in the ground saw this as a credible claim.

All it meant was that extra added minutes were added on at the end. Forest did well to see this one over the line.

There was blue sky above the bloody Estuary Wilds for Wednesday lunchtime. We both had a spare half hour.

Hey! How about some midweek wiff waff?

Sure.

The field was empty. This meant that I could empty my extreme potty mouth whenever a shot didn’t work out.

OH CHUFF, etc.

The grass around was wet. This led to the ball becoming a little water heavy. It wasn’t a game in which to turn to spin.

If in doubt, TWAT IT.

There goes the potty mouth.

A friendly dog approached us during a crucial point in the game. He lifted his right hind leg and pissed all over my table tennis bag.

The dirty dog, etc.

This put me off my stroke. I caved in, losing 3-2.

It was the tail that wagged the wiff waff dog.

For some unknown reason this reminds me of the Metal Micky telly show. It would have been the perfect soundtrack: new, shiny, the future. It still sounds fresh, over fifty years later. Bolan knew how to riff. He’s Chuck Berry with an afro perm. The singles of course stand out. Jeepster had me swaying along first thing in the morning, still in my PJ’s. There’s a certain amount of sorrow, before the boogie picks you up again. Decent.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Brooks digs up “forgotten” leather, and turns it into limited run of £330 “exceedingly rare and unrepeatable” saddles

TOUCH THE LEATHER

To Moving Image!

…on Tuesday evening. On the big (ish) screen at the Loveless Hall was The Penguin Lessons, another Steve Coogan film from last year.

Coogan is working at a prolific rate right now. He seems to be everywhere - on the telly, in your podcast feed, erm, on the Loveless Hall big (ish) screen.

He always seems to play himself - or even an iteration of Partridge; but he also always seems to get away with it. That’s the sign of a good actor.

His character in The Penguin Lessons is an English teacher moving to Argentina in the Junta era of 1976 to teach a private school. A penguin is picked up along the way.

You could quite easily swap the teacher role for Coogan’s Tony Wilson in Twenty Four Hour Party People. But probably not the creepy Coogan with his incredible portrayal of Jimmy Saville.

The Penguin Lessons is shot beautifully, capturing the 1970’s landscape of Argentina. The scenes have a light touch hue about them. The screen radiates with South American warmness.

And so does the film. Not the nasty right wing Military Junta part, obvs, but the developing love story between an awkward English teacher and a penguin that is rescued from an oil spill.

This is a truly lovely film laced with metaphors. With one of the main character not being able to hold down a speaking role, the relationship between teacher and penguin somehow manages to develop along with the plot.

The soundtrack is great as well. The use of Nick Drake fits the time period and location.

There were genuine tears at the end. Nothing ever lasts forever, etc. Coogan even manages to evoke some accidental Partridge into the funeral eulogy.

What a wonderful film.

I always find Costello a little too clever with the lyrics. What a bounder! Writing intelligent lyrics… I think I’m just a passive listener. The music is always great, as is the case on Brutal Youth. The band sounds tight here. He always benefits when backed by the Attractions. Maybe the last great Costello album before he hit the comfortable years?

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Another day, another BATTERING at the Table of Dreams.

We’re talking 4-1 here.

Oh dear.

I started strong. I always start strong. I raced to a 1-0 lead.

My early tactics are to basically TWAT the ball around the table. I’m very good at TWATTING - especially so when it comes to finding the corners.

I then get a little cocky.

Hey! Let’s spin it to win it!

I love executing spin, even if the ball doesn’t bounce on the other end of the table. It’s a very satisfying stroke.

My interest in the game started to disappear, along with the fading winter light. We ended up playing pretty much in darkness.

Lights out.

Of course this album is preposterous. That’s the appeal. I spent most of the time listening to the bass lines. I really wanted to buy a copy. I even found a cheapo copy on ebay. But it’s a crap album. That’s why it’s so cheap. Doh! In summary: I like the idea of the album, but not the execution.

⭐ ⭐

AMAZING! Sean Dyche has been Head Coach at Forest longer than Ange the Clown.

Blimey.

I’ve tried to wipe out the Ange 39 days from my memory. I think the Forest players feel the same, tbh.

It does seem like a lifetime away now as we try and climb up to mid-table. I wasn’t even born when Nuno was Head Coach.

What a time to be alive, etc.

And so on Sunday we had Brighton rock up at the World Famous with Dyche looking as though he is empire building.

I’m all for dynasties. Dyche has the background that we all crave for, if not the flair.

You get the impression he hero worshipped Carl Tiler rather than Bing Crosby back in the day.

It was a little odd having to switch to Sky Sports Cricket to watch Forest. I half expected to see Stuart Broad starting in the back four.

Instead we had Morato.

Oh.

Morato Time started about 89 minutes too early for me.

The minute’s silence for former Academy player Joshua Travis was very moving. You often hold your breath during these moments, praying that no idiot in the crowd spoils the occasion.

Congratulations for everyone involved for treating the passing of a very young lad with the dignity it deserves - and that includes the club as well.

Brighton started sharply. VERY sharply. It looked like another 7-0 scoreline might be the final outcome, such was the pressure they placed on Forest.

Wellbeck’s going to blag a hat trick, right?

Wrong.

Well done to Dyche and the Forest old boys for working out what the chuff was going on, and then reacting in real time on the pitch.

My tactical awareness isn’t going to lead me to be invited on to one of the many Forest podcasts sometime soon. But I think it was something to do with the lack of link up play between MGW and Jesus?

Christ, etc.

With the left wing in complete chaos up in Liverpool as Your Party assembled (ffs) it was the right wing that was causing issues for Forest back at the World Famous.

Neco was having a very rare, and ever so slightly off day.

The first thirty minutes or so were a tough watch. It wasn’t that Forest were crap, but simply that Brighton were outstanding. We couldn’t get a sniff in.

A comeback of sorts followed for the final fifteen minutes of the half. Forest looked strong.

And then came the sucker punch, right before half time.

I refer to my previous answer of knowing chuff all about tactics when trying to explain the great big bloody gap that allowed an unmarked Maxim De Cuyper (nope, me neither) strolling in unmarked.

HT.

Time to regroup, time to reset.

I’ve been impressed with the way that Dyche has handled these situations. He is far from the dinosaur as advertised.

The defensive displays of Burnley and Everton now seem a reflection on the dead wood he was working with at the time.

Omari Hutchinson is far from that. He ran the show for most of the second half. He’s finally living up to the record signing fee status.

Collymore was a bit of a slow burner…

It felt that if Forest got a goal, they would go on to win the game. But the clock was ticking down.

OK - a draw against a top six team would still be good.

And then came Morato Time.

Oh dear.

He got himself in a right old bloody mess - not once, but twice.

It had to be an ex-Olympiacos player who profited. The Big Fat Greek ain’t gonna like that.

Hey hoe.

On to Wolves - who are in serious danger of ‘beating’ the D***y record. I’d still take three points off them.

Play time, etc.