onionbagblog

We rocked up at the Table of Dreams, only to find a father sitting on it, and his son stomping around on the table and metallic net. wtf.

The little shit was taking great delight in jumping up and down. He wasn’t challenged over his behaviour. The entitled, middle-class tosser.

I strode up, expecting a confrontation. Instead they both disappeared. SEE YA. Don’t come back, etc. Some people.

This messed with my mind. As did the wind. I tried to play a power game. This was not an afternoon for spin. I succeeded, to an extent. A 5-1 defeat is not as deflating at it might sound. I did push her all the way. Yep.

Whenever I get invites to shitty 70’s themed ‘party’ nights, I often think of turning up with an un-groomed moustache, a battered leather jacket and a handful of Can albums under my arms. The ‘party’ will consist of sitting on the floor together, having a smoke, and listening to the magnificence of Can. If anyone dares to speak then they will be asked to leave the ‘party.’ I bloody love this group, and especially this album. It grooves away without being funky. It speaks to you without actually saying anything. Stick you Abba shite up yer arse.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

“Something unexpected happened yesterday when they announced yet another delay to HS2. I lost interest, because I might be dead before it opens.”

Arf. via Diamond Geezer.

“Someday you’re going to tell your kids that we once used a social network that limited your writing to 500 characters and didn’t allow styling, links or titles. What was it called Daddy? Bluesky. And people thought it was great. Why? They might have been taking drugs.”

via Dave Winer

Uplifting indie pop, with a slightly darker edge. I still love Gepetto. It tells a story, creates an atmosphere and gets you singing - the three main things I look for in a pop song. The rest of album is standard, to decent. It doesn’t quite make the bold move over the edge to become something great. But it’s worth revisiting.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The Life and Times of Tricky

He’s a one. But WHAT a one.

“The left is a force that must be listened to, rather than swindled all over again”

Owen Jones in The Graun

A Forest hat-trick: a black T, a vest and a beanie. What am I suppose to do when the club drop an end of season 50% off sale? The black T is interesting. It’s knitwear, and not a straight forward T as I was expecting. I quite like it. Northern Soul vibes. The vest is purely for tattoo PONCEING. The beanie is a skate style that surprisingly suits my egghead. We came SO close to Three Stars on the Badge, Comrades.

A stunning four star album. I’ve been wanting to listen this in detail for some time now. Yer man Robert Elms always bangs on about it. I felt I knew it most of the tracks anyway, seeing as though he often drops them on BBC Ldn. It’s perfection. It captures Benson’t own transition from acclaimed jazz guitarist to something a little more soulful. I can’t decide where his talent lie: guitar or vocals? Both are stunning. A very smooth album that has set me up for the summer.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

And so Forest’s annual On the Beach day came around a little earlier this season. Two games to spare, with plenty of breathing space ahead of Bournemouth at home. What were we all so worried about?

The team news landed. MGW. Blimey. He’s stepped up big time this season following the #lolspurs fall out of last summer. He had no need to play this match with his mask. It’s clear that he still has a point to prove ahead of the World Cup.

Vitor meanwhile on BBC Radio Nottingham was living in fantasy land. Or maybe something got a little lost in translation?:

“We won the Champions League.”

Steady the buffers, gaffer.

He went on to clarify:

“We won our Champions League.”

Which is a rather chest-beating way of saying we’re not getting relegated, a new contract should be in the post, job well done.

VERY well done. I’ve never been so chilled watching a Forest match in recent seasons. If this is what mid-table obscurity feels like, then bring it on.

All we’ve ever really wanted in the four years since the PL return is to be safe by Easter, and then coast in as the sun starts to shine. Last season was an outlier.

There was strong end of season vibes ahead of KO. I can’t say I’m a fan of player’s kids coming out with the team. But then I haven’t got any kids, and I’m never likely to be leading Forest out at Old Trafford.

The game was wide open right from the KO. Man Utd struck first whilst the Forest players were rolling out the beach towels.

But wait! What’s this?

Morato? Where the chuff did that come from? Tie that BEAST of a bloke down with a ten year contract, erm, right…?

Man Utd went ahead again, before the sun tan lotion could be rubbed into the muscular thighs of the Brazilian BEAST. Whatever. It was that type of game.

The dodgy VAR - which is putting it politely - wasn’t really in the spirit of the end of term feel. It will do little to silence the growing sense of the PL Cartel, and accusations of being corrupt as fuck.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man in the mask. MGW’s second for Forest was the goal of the game. I was known to be a rather tricky player myself back in the day - there you go again, making a Forest Crap Match Report all about yourself, etc.

But the delicacy of the touch by MGW, and the skill and foresight requited to pull that off was incredible. Not only should he be on the plane to the WC, he should be starting alongside Anderson.

The game then went a little bonkers, with basketball breaks up and down the pitch. Either team could easily have scored a couple more.

It wasn’t to be for Forest. There’s no shame in a 3-2 defeat away at Old Trafford, including a very poor VAR decision against us. I would be fuming if we weren’t already ordering in the margaritas ahead of KO.

Bournemouth back at the World Famous next weekend promises to be the beach part to end all beach parties.

“There was a designated orgy room, and the ballroom was given a makeover with “garish psychedelic paintings all over the flaking walls”. A photo on the Facebook group, posted by someone called Wavey Gravy, shows a tie-dyed teepee pitched up in the grounds where Miss Morleena had supped on her cold collation.”

Superb read from The Londoner on the old Eel Pie Island Hotel.

London Colosseum: Olympic Park Could Get NBA Basketball Arena

via [Londonist](London Colosseum: Olympic Park Could Get NBA Basketball Arena)

You need to approach Time Out without a Jazz Head - which is just as well, seeing as though I haven’t really got one anyway. I’ve read about experimental time signatures and innovation. Fuck that. This album is a great listen, purely for the music and the mood itself. You don’t need to be a muso to appreciate the melodies that drift in and out, whilst the light touch on the drums and bass hold it all together. It sounds timeless, effortless. Not a diss, but a great album to work along to.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐