Mixed Feelings

As me. Go on ask me. What do I think of Harriet Harman? Ask me another. Go on ask me. What do I think of Piers Morgan?

Well since you ask, I can't stand either of them. Which means I ought really to be dead chuffed that both are enduring some discomfiture at the moment. But the bloody annoying fact is that my relish in their predicaments is severely qualified.

Harman first. I think we can take it as read that she's a sanctimonious windbag, nothing controversial about that. But the efforts of the Daily Mail to implant into the national consciousness the notion that she is some sort of paedo are pitiful. I've said it before and I'll say it again - the unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable.

Morgan? I think we can take it as read that he's a preening, self-aggrandising shitbag, nothing controversial there. But if it really is the case that his CNN show is being pulled because of his having antagonised the gun lobby, then I feel the tiniest tinge of sympathy. I've said it before and I'll say it again - the unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable.

To happier matters. A rewarding weekend for the rugby enthusiast. I speak not only of the Six Nations but also of the nice reception I got from the good burghers of Woodrush RFC where I strutted my refereeing stuff on Saturday. Thanks gents.

Six Nations: the Overgraduate is rather chuffed with himself thus far having stated before the whole shebang got under way that there would be no Grand Slam this year. Three weeks in and QED. Wales have taken a beating in Dublin and then administered one of their own to a bafflingly dull France. England and Ireland gave us a proper high octane test match at Twickenham. In analysing that performance it should not be overlooked that England won despite butchering a couple of gilt-edged chances. Ireland are beautifully coached. Even the basement battle of Italy and Scotland (whose coach does a very good impression of a buffoon - or perhaps it's not an impression) wound itself up to a thrilling finale.

By this time in two weeks I will be deep in the postmortem over the first day at Cheltenham. Remember you read it here first - you don't have to have a bet on every race..... Paging Dr Faggot!

Conspiracy Theory

The very odd couple

I was in Leeds a few days ago and I saw the damnedest thing in Macdonalds. There was a shiny faced, suspiciously dark-haired chap, understatedly well-dressed. He tried to appear normal but every pore of him shouted posh to anyone caring to look. He looked familiar as well. That forehead was memorable. He ordered a "large Mac". Clearly outside his comfort zone.

He was then joined by a rather jowly fellow who barked an order for super sized Big Mac meal with an extra box of nuggets as a chaser. I sat nearby and listened.

So what were David Cameron and Alex Salmond doing on what might be termed neutral territory? Stitching up the bloody referendum that's what. These very different men have a common interest in the Scots fatso getting his way in the Autumn. I think they missed a trick however - Lardy Face and Old Hair Dye agreed that the former would call the latter arrogant in his latest venting of spleen. This of course misses the point. Anyone can tell you Cameron isn't arrogant - patronising tosser is a better expression.

By voting yes the Scots can guarantee themselves no Tory government  ever ever ever. By voting yes the Scots can also ensure that the wrong Miliband never gets to be PM of the rump UK. Result. Where do I vote?

It's Raining, It's Pouring, My Love Life Is ... None Of Your Damned Business Actually

It's tipping down or more exactly it's coming down only just beyond the horizontal so strong are the winds. The cover has blown off the barbecue twice today and I have had to venture out to retrieve the situation.

But despite the ghastly weather a middle-aged man's thoughts turn to mid March and the Cheltenham Festival. Now less than four weeks to go until the roar that greets the first race. I will be going for the first three days and a smile adorns my face just typing about it. Get on!

It's been a busy old time and I've enjoyed the last two weekends in Anglesey. The first I went with JRS for a highly convivial few days of beer and sport. We partook of the former and watched the latter. We did have our golf clubs with us but the weather dissuaded us from using them and instead we confined our exercise to walking round to the Ship Inn at Red Wharf Bay for Sunday lunch. We managed to fit that in around watching three games of international rugby, two live rubbers in the Davis Cup and a disappointingly one-sided Superbowl. A capital weekend. Thanks John.

I made another lunchtime appearance at the Ship last weekend but this time it was Saturday and I was with Sharon. The landlord paid me the compliment of remembering my face. We even went back to Red Wharf Bay on Sunday but this time gave the Old Boathouse a go. Most excellent fish pie and a fair enough bottle of Sauvignon blanc. It's a hard life.

My vague prognostications on the Six Nations are looking mildly wise. France have improved, England are competent but don't score enough points when in the red zone, Ireland are zealous and well-prepared, and Wales came an almighty cropper in Dublin last week. Utterly predictably Mike Phillips got into a scuffle. Poor little soul.

My thoughts are turning to purchasing a new car now that Sharon no longer has a company car. It must be my age because I am most interested in value for money and fuel efficiency. However, fear not, the Overgraduate will not be divesting himself of the precious Jag. It shall remain a weekend indulgence.