Maverick Blogging

Just like Ronseal, it does exactly what it says on the tin. And when I say 'on the tin,' I mean 'in the title.'

Will Young make a better album next time? Hopefully.

I’ve just listened to Will Young’s new album Echoes. My dad bought it on the strength of the album’s first single: ‘Jealousy’.

I was jealous of Young’s first song, but the rest of the album, to paraphrase my dad, sounds like nice lounge music and nothing more.

I can’t help but feel the marketing team released the only good track off the album and made people buy it on the strength of that offering.

It’s shrewd, but not very nice. Yeah, you heard. It’s not very nice at all.


Apparently, the album can be confined to the trip-hop/-pop genre of music. If that means I accidentally tripped and popped my hip out of place and then hopped around in absolute agony due to the disappointing standard of songs then it’s pretty apt. I’ve got a sneaky feeling it doesn’t mean that.

Caroline Sullivan - writing for The Guardian - called all 13 tracks “classy.” Ron Burgundy told San Diego to stay classy. Did they? I haven’t done the appropriate market research, but I can assume that if they did it lasted only a short while.

I give Ron Burgundy 5* (out of 5*); Young gets 2*.

M&S Recruit Superhero and Autobot Accomplice for Youth Fashion War

The Green Lantern (Ryan Reynolds) and Transformers No.3 girl (Rosie Huntington-Whiteley) are going to be the faces of Marks and Spencer’s Autograph brand.

They must have been paid a shed-load of money.

All those grannies were complaining a while back about M&S overlooking their needs. Will the ad campaign work without alienating existing customers?

Saying that, if I wear the exact same clothes as Mr Reynolds does in all the ads - coming out September 1st - and have Miss Huntington-Whiteley on my arm, I will withdraw any and all complaint.

I sent this and heard nothing back

This is exactly what I sent to a student newspaper. Shockingly, I received no reply…

As this is a football-cum-politics article, I feel it could do well in the sports section or even – dare I say it? - as a front page news story. I eagerly anticipate your very positive reply.

Emile Heskey: Football’s Barack Obama

Athletic. Mesmerising. Agile. Zoological. Intelligent. Noble. Glorious. These are just some of the words you would not normally associate with Emile William Ivanhoe Heskey (and adjectives beginning with Z are hard to come up with, too). If you have just agreed with the previous sentence, then you are a fool as there are many adjectives beginning with Z and, also, Heskey is god-like. His middle name is Ivanhoe. Is your middle name Ivanhoe? If you are not the son of Moses, or some other biblical character, then it probably is not and therefore you are no match for Heskey. Heskey spits in your face even though your father might have the power to separate the sea. He fears neither water nor fire. Jason X and Freddy Krueger fear both respectively and are therefore, like yourself, no match for the man mountain that is Emile ‘Touch me and I’ll punch you directly in the facial area’ Heskey. Do not be frightened, he does not condone or promote violence, but, equally, he will punch you facially; make no mistake about it. A man once said to me, “Emile Heskey might just be the worst striker to have ever played for England.” After I had punched this old man in the pancreas, I stood upon his chest, laughed loudly, and then recited a list of strikers who I deemed to be worse than Heskey: James ‘My moobs were offside’ Beattie, Kevin ‘I can’t get on rides at Alton Towers’ Phillips, and Andy ‘Seriously, I got eight caps’ Johnson. I have no personal vendettas against any of the aforementioned strikers, apart from wishing that they suffered from eczema or some other mild skin condition.

Right now, you’re probably thinking, “Why hasn’t he mentioned Barack Obama yet?” Hush your mouth before I hurt your gonads. Anyway, both are either in charge of, or will be in charge of, very powerful countries. Yes, that’s right: Heskey will claim England as his own and re-name it Heskey-opia. He is, however, open to suggestions and if you would like to submit an alternative name then please write to: PO Box 62, How Dare You Criticise The Name of Heskey’s Country, Don’t Even Think About Posting Whatever Pile Of Crap You’ve Written, Aston Villa, Villa Park, B6 6HE. Also, both Heskey and Obama are young, black, professional men who have risen to the very top of their respective spheres. In fact, Heskey is so good, he uses a ball (a sphere, if you will) to occasionally score goals that only the likes of Darius Vassell and Michael Ricketts are capable of reproducing. Yes, he is that good.

So, in summary, I think we can all now safely agree, under threat of violence, that Emile William Ivanhoe Heskey is football’s equivalent to Barack Obama. It was rumoured that Heskey was approached to run as the Democratic presidential nominee and that Obama was second choice. Although this is obviously true, Heskey was too busy being awesome and therefore passed on the opportunity. I, as a football fan with no bias towards Heskey, was so delighted when informed of Heskey’s selflessness that I attempted to have his beautiful face tattooed upon my James Beattie-esque left moob so that he would always be close to my heart. They said I was mad, they said I was crazy, they said I should not have come into the tattoo parlour without any clothes on. The trial continues.

Disclaimer: Many of the things you have read are lies.

I’m bringing the moustache back. “It’s so 2010!” I hear you say. Hush, bombardier, do not make me punch you right in the kisser.

I’m bringing the moustache back. “It’s so 2010!” I hear you say. Hush, bombardier, do not make me punch you right in the kisser.