The wisdom of Gatt

England's cricket team landed in Australia yesterday, as the countdown to their defence of The Ashes enters its final few weeks. 

There is going to be a lot of guff talked between now and the first ball being bowled, but I'd be surprised if any "expert" manages to outdo Mike Gatting on the "Guffometer" with this contribution on Radio Five Live this morning, which I have since managed to retrieve via the BBC iPlayer

Presenter: The former England captain Mike Gatting, the last skipper to win in Australia, will tell us how England might do it this time.  How?

Gatting: Well, they've got to perform well as a team, Garry. The bowlers have got to get the wickets.  Obviously you've got to take 20 wickets.  But we need to get some runs on the board.  The most important thing is the fielding.  They've got to catch their catches.

I'm so glad they had him on because neither you nor I could possibly have worked any of that out for ourselves.

Our Leon? You're lyin'!

I've been a Coleraine Football Club fan for a lifetime, and I've watched Sky Sports' Soccer AM for as long as it's been on our screens.

But I never thought I'd see the day when a Coleraine player would appear on it.  This morning it happened.

His name is Leon Knight, he signed for Coleraine only a few weeks ago - his fourteenth club, despite the fact he's just 28 years old.  And he'd been booked to appear on the show before he joined the Bannsiders.

However, appear he did and he was great.  More importantly, he did a great PR job for my wee town and my wee club.  He was even asked to send in a Coleraine shirt to hang up on the famous studio wall.

He's played only two games for the Bannsiders thus far and didn't appear against Crusaders today as he was in London filming the programme live.  He's also very unlikely to stay at the club past the end of this season when his contract runs out.

But I think there's little doubt he's already a Coleraine legend.  Marvellous.  

My good deed

What you really want at shortly after nine on a Saturday morning, when you're rushing to blow up your car tyre with a slow puncture in time for your wife and son to get to a three-year-old's birthday party, is a pissed-up chav on a bicycle stopping to ask if you'd mind doing his tyres too.

But that's what happened to me about 20 minutes ago.

And, being the proud member of the Big Society that I am, I did as he requested whilst he tried vainly to explain to his wench on the phone why he hadn't yet made it home from last night's house party.

On the plus side, I now know that £45 will get us a new car tyre, thereby lessening the chances of other chavs pulling up alongside on future occasions to ask for "a bit of air, mate."

And surely the rest of today will have something nice in store for me as a reward for my kindness.

That That - touts!

I can't really believe I'm about to admit this in public - but here goes.

Just a few minutes ago, I bought tickets to see That That play live in Manchester next summer.

I'm not sure at this point whether or not I'll actually be one of the four individuals going along to see the show, although it is very likely. Vanessa will certainly be there.

But the key point is this.

I've got four tickets that the touts or some other equally greedy b*stards haven't got and, for that fact alone, I'm feeling rather pleased.

(Plus, Take That were quite good when I saw them last year. As was Robbie, for that matter, a few years before that. Ahem).

UPDATE: Frankie Boyle writing in today's Sun: "Gary Barlow said the next Take That tour will have 'something for everyone.' Everyone apart from heterosexual men." Harsh.

Grumpy skeleton

After last night's man-in-black in the form of the brilliant Kevin Bridges (you must go to see him if you get the chance), tonight we had a toddler-in-black in the form of our son.

They're having a Halloween party at Jamie's nursery tomorrow and all inmates have been invited to pitch up in fancy dress. But we only found out about this yesterday, leaving Vanessa and me little time to cobble something together.

So thank goodness for Asda.

At just £4.80 (reduced from £6, don't you know?) his skeleton-themed scary outfit initially won his favour, as the picture above confirms.

By then he had a closer examination...

...followed by an even closer examination...

...and, well, then he wasn't so keen.

But tough, it's either this or a bin liner. And we're clean out of bin liners.

Line of the night

And it was the very last line of the night.

Audience member: "What's your favourite ever heckle?"

Kevin Bridges: "Some man in Lancaster called me a Porridge Goblin."

Sleep well.

For one night only: all Bridges lead to Kevin

I've been having a "less than enjoyable week" thus far, and am really in the mood to sit down with a pint or two and listen to a blunt-speaking Glaswegian telling a room full of strangers exactly how it is.

And, as luck would have it, that's exactly what Vanessa and I are doing tonight when we go to see comedian Kevin Bridges live at the West Yorkshire Playhouse in Leeds.

Anyone who has heard of him will need me to say no more.

For those who haven't, he's a blunt-speaking Glaswegian very good at telling a room full of strangers exactly how it is (is there an echo in here?)

He first came to national attention last summer after appearing on Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow on BBC1.

If you didn't see it, give yourself a treat by turning up your speakers and clicking onto this link. And if were fortunate enough to catch it, you might wish to remind yourself of just how good he is.

I'll give you the lowdown tomorrow (but don't expect me to remember any of his gags).

Oop, oop and away

Our country is clearly experiencing some difficult economic times at the moment, of that there is no doubt.

But as I witnessed on the train home last night, here in Yorkshire, there is every reason to believe that our vibrant "advanced manufacturing" industry will pull us through. Or, as the locals call it, "knitting."

Meet The Kerrs

I don't have advertising on this site for two reasons:

1. I only do this for a bit of fun, and
2. Most of my friends who read it are incredibly tight and wouldn't buy anything anyway.

However, I'll kind of break my rule for one day only by inviting you to visit a brand, spanking new blog written by two good friends of mine.

Andy Kerr and I have essentially known each other since we were eggs; we went to Macosquin Primary School together, Coleraine Inst together and we've kept in touch in one way or another ever since.

Meanwhile, his wife Lydia has been my "blokey" mate since the mid-1980s when we used to walk past each other on The Old Bridge in Coleraine en route to our respective "big" schools.

Many years hence, Andy and Lydia "got together" (this is a family blog) whilst living in London. They're now happily married with a beautiful two-year-old daughter and a baby-boy-in-arms - and they've just moved to Melbourne.

Vanessa and I met up with them last month, as the countdown to their departure entered its final days, and they were clearly very excited. Quite right too.

Since then, they've arrived in Oz and started building their nest.

And, best of all, you can follow their progress via their blog, Kerrangaro News (do you see what they did there?) which is now live.

Go on, have a look.

I wonder what Prince Charles thinks

Above you can see a picture of Dubai's Burj Khalifa, the world's tallest building and favourite to be named "Best Tall Building in the World" in a ceremony organised yesterday by the Council on Tall Buildings and Urban Habitat.

But it didn't win - it lost out to a rusty box in Leeds which, alongside other uses, is home to students flats.

Here is a picture of said winning entry.

And I promise, I'm not making this up.

Goodies and baddies

I took Jamie to the National Media Museum in Bradford this morning and, somewhat surprisingly, he quite liked the resident Dalek.

But the Cackling Witch scared the bejesus out of him, and we had to come home.

It could be a long Halloween.

Better late than never

I spent the first 10 years of my life in a little village called Macosquin, before moving four miles to the metropolis of Coleraine.

But it was only today, when I met a friend who also grew up in Macosquin, that I realised the name of her particular road could be regarded as amusing.

I speak of Ringrash Road

And why did it take me so long?

Bitch fight, anyone?

Pictured above left with Jamie earlier this year is the wonderful Emma from his Little People Nursery.

Vanessa and I like Emma a lot, but Jamie likes her "a lot a lot."

A few months ago, he moved upstairs to "Tweenies" having previously been in "Toddler Two" and, hence, with Emma. And he missed her terribly.

He and we were therefore delighted a little while ago when Emma was transferred upstairs to join him.

As a result, he's been enjoying nursery more of late than ever before - and the reason why is plain.

That said, he still tends to have a mini-strop as I carry him up the road on a nursery day so I've taken to using Emma's name as bait to get him there. But when I did this earlier this morning, I got a bit of shock.

"Are you looking forward to seeing Emma?" I asked him as I teetered out the front door, weighed down by his three-stones-plus frame.

"Yes!" he replied. "I've got TWO mummies!"

I shared this remark with Vanessa as I trained it into work, and let's just say she's now planning a couple of extra "love shifts" this coming weekend.

In this age of austerity...

Unless you've been hiding under a stone (or have a life), you'll know that England's favourite footballing son Wayne Rooney (what?!) has asked to leave Manchester United.

Should he do so, United's fiercest rivals Manchester City are favourites to sign him for a reported £50 million fee.

But I've done a bit of digging and found that, rather than pay such an exorbitant price, the Sky Blues can pick up an identical looking but considerably more talented purchase from childrenspace.co.uk for a mere £9.90.

It can manage an impressive five individual phrases - several more than Wayne Rooney himself.

I'm a sad, messed-up freakaholic

I don't know if you watched The X Factor last night (please say no) but this year's series is beginning to send me into a spiral of deep self-loathing and wild irritation - because I can't stop myself from watching it.

I don't know who Cheryl Cole thinks she is these days, Simon Cowell has become one of those dolls on which you pull the string and it comes out with one of four or five stock phrases, and almost every guest act is either a former contestant, contracted to Cowell's record label or a past or present judge on the show itself. It's like incest with glitter. (That's glitter - not Glitter).

And then last night, the 14 remaining contestants on the supposed "live"singing contest mimed their way through the opening group number, closely followed by ex-contestant Diana Vickers who mimed her way through her instantly forgettable new single - prompting Simon and co to bounce up to lead an ecstatic standing ovation.

ARRRGGGHHHH - I HATE IT!!!!! ARRRGGGHHHH!!!

Yet I can guarantee I'll be watching again come the weekend. And the weekend after. And every weekend between now and Christmas.

I'm a disgrace.

Please don't approach me if you see me in the street.

Full Time: Biarritz 35 Ulster 15

I had hoped that getting Jamie into his white replica Ulster rugby shirt would bring my men the bit of good fortune they needed to ensure victory over Biarritz in today's Heineken Cup clash in the South of France.

It's just a shame Ulster - for the first time ever - chose to wear blue.

It's about having a balanced diet

Is this biscuit, which I picked up at a local bakery this morning, the most unhealthy biscuit ever made?

In case you can't quite make it out, that's an extra large jelly spider sitting atop the chocolate.

No doubt Jamie will love it.

But please don't tell social services (or his mother).

The Backroom Barber vs. The Boy - III

Tonight was the night for Jamie's third ever haircut and, well, it could have gone better for the Pudsey youngster.

Andy, the self-styled "Backroom Barber," came out scissors swinging and, as in previous encounters, showed his experience by doing a professional job on his novice opponent - for a purse of only a fiver.

As the pic above shows, Jamie was none too pleased and finally ended up on Andy's canvas.

However, never underestimate the power of "kiddie smelling salts," otherwise known as chocolate.

I'm delighted to report that the Giant Buttons certainly did the trick, seeing Jamie "Boy" White through to the end of a bruising contest.

But Andy was the clear winner on all judges' cards, particularly one, sitting at ringside, who laughed so much I thought he was going to do himself an injury. (No doubt Andy will have knocked the joy out of his life shortly after he'd slipped into the infamous big black chair).

A rule for them and a rule for them

This is my pal Carson. And tonight Carson, from Belfast, was a victim of discrimination.

Earlier, I met him and our mutual friend Diane for a catch-up drink in Bradford city centre.

All three of us had had a couple of snifters, and it was my turn to go to the bar.

Diane, who was driving, chose to refrain on my round (good girl). And Carson decided on a vodka and Coke.

"Good evening," said me to the bar woman (I'm not sure they do maids in Bradford). "Can I have a vodka and Coke and a pint of Guinness, please?"

"Certainly, sir," she replied (I'm not convinced they do sirs either, but she had a go). "And who is the vodka and Coke for?"

"Sorry?" said me, a little bemused.

"Who is the vodka and Coke for?" she continued. "The lady or the gentleman?"

"Well, it's somewhere in between," I muttered back. "It's for my friend Carson, who's a gay gentleman."

"Right," responded the bar women. "£5.60."

"And what would it have been if he wasn't a gay gentleman, may I ask?" as one would.

"£3.80," said she. "It's ladies night, you see. If he were a lady, he could have had his drink for £1. But he's not, he's a gay. And we don't have a special rate for them. Perhaps we should."

Especially when I'm paying.

Does he not think they've suffered enough?

Jamie is going through something of a "parrot phase" in which, as the tag suggests, he repeats back a lot of what you say.

This can have certain advantages.

For example, when the Ryder Cup was on TV, I was desperate to find a way for him to let me watch it in peace rather rather than spend every second demanding that I switch over to CBeebies.

So I taught him a few well-known golf phrases to shout when something exciting happened (and even showed him how to punch the air).

That was almost a fortnight ago and the chosen phrases have not been uttered by him since.

Until this morning, that is.

I was getting him ready for nursery, in front of the telly, and flicked over to Sky News to see how the rescue of the Chilean miners was progressing.

Again, in an attempt for him to let me watch my programme rather than his, I explained that these brave men had been stuck in a big hole for weeks and weeks and were now coming out.

The news bulletin then switched to some recorded images of the first miner emerging from his capsule.

"GET IN THE HOLE!" came the cry from Jamie, right on cue.

Sometimes compassion isn't his strong point.