If David Seaman’s Dad Had Worn A Condom We’d Still Be In The World Cup

After Joe Kinnear's "faux pas" earlier this week, referring to Charles N’Zogbia as "Insomnia", the Telegraph has published a list of top 20 football insults.

I heard another good one this week.

What do you call Liverpool without Steven Gerrard?

Stoke.

Wanna hear some more?

"Football is all right as a game for rough girls but is hardly suitable for delicate boys." Oscar Wilde

"When an Italian tells me its pasta on the plate I check under the sauce to make sure." Sir Alex Ferguson.

I have to say I think the best way to deal with insults is to ignore them.

Unless someone calls you Leeds United supporter of course in which case any response is justified.

Is Mike Parry Basil Brush?

Apologies in advance to any readers who have never listened to Talk Sport.

But I want to tell you about a man I've developed something of a soft spot for.

Mike Parry.

He's an enthusiastic, engaging sort of fellow (despite being an Everton fan).

And I have come to believe he is, in fact, Basil Brush.

My evidence?

Well for a start they both have furry ginger faces.

Their laughs are not dissimilar.

And Mr Parry has a very irritating habit of saying "yes" after every phrase his co-presenter says.

Admittedly he does not have buck teeth.

But looking at them I'm not convinced they are his anyway.

And then of course there are those short arms.

Yep - there's no doubt in my mind.

Mike Parry is definitely Basil Brush.

Although I'm not sure who has their hand up his bottom these days.

Nobody Loves Him

Nobody loves him
Everybody hates him
Thinks he lives on worms
Short fat hairy ones
Long thin slimy ones
See how they wiggle and squirm
Bites their heads off
Slurps all the juice up
Spits their skins away
Nobody knows how much he likes
His worms three times a day.

All together now.

Worried Men

There are a few worried men in the football world at the moment.

Obviously Steven Gerrard has his on-going court case on a charge of assault.

And now Robhinho has been arrested and bailed following an allegation of a serious sexual assault.

Meanwhile, Martin Allen has the look of a worried man. Not without cause.

And despite Wenger's bravado, I'm not convinced he isn't just a little bit twitchy.

But remember boys - it is just football after all.

Don't worry - be happy!

Glory Glory

Glory glory Man Utd!

Don't worry. Only joking.

They are on fire though aren't they. 5 goals by 4 different people.

West Brom just provided the platform for them to shine.

Meanwhile, we have another point tucked neatly in the bag. 10 points ahead now thanks to MKD's losing.

And as if that isn't all joy enough, my dad is coming out of hospital later this week.

Now there's a man still yet to have his Man Utd moment.

But he will.

It Could Have Been Worse

Did you know Leicester City Football club will be 125 next season?

To commemorate, the club allowed fans to choose the shirt, which will be without a sponsorship logo.

There were 4 to choose from but 65% of the fans voted for a blank one.

It's a bit of a blow to my ambitions of course but hey - onwards and upwards. It could have been worse.

No doubt the club will be hoping to sell quite a few to help offset their 14.2 million pound loss last year.

Presumably it will be even worse this year.

There is no doubt about it though. Despite the difficult times we have had over the last couple of years, I have no regrets about choosing the Foxes to support.

On the contrary I thank my lucky stars.

Imagine how much worse it could have been.

What if I had chosen Leeds United or Swindon Town?

I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.

Fox 'O Nine Tales

Today my favourite number is 9.

The number has all sorts of significance.

9 was the number that Cristiano Ronaldo picked (allegedly) when he thought he was off to Real Madrid (or are we all supposed to now pretend that didn't happen?).

It's the number Torres wears on his now.

Gerrard, Lampard and Agbonlahor have all scored nine goals this season.

And nine is the number of points Leicester City are ahead in League One.

Conspiracy Theories

Make up your mind 'Arry.

Are you going to field your weakest team today?

Or your strongest team?

Maybe he has so many injuries in the squad they are the same thing anyway.

Or maybe it is a smoke and mirrors move to disguise some cunning plan.

And talking of conspiracy theories - what about Ulrika winning Celebrity Big Brother?

Nominated consistently by her housemates. Long odds of 12/1 to win (compared to Verne who was 5/1). And very very irritating.

So who on earth was voting for her?

What is the demographic that explains that?

Want to know my theory?

OK.

Terry Christian (my favourite to win) whom she was up against in the final vote just happens to be a mad bonkers ManUre fan. Famous for it.

So everyone who dislikes the ManUre goes into the Ulrika camp.

Reinforced by Ulrika's Sven connection with their arch rivals Manchester City.

And Ulrika's connection with football generally.

In other words, it was football that made the difference.

She's been planning it for years.

And no-one saw it coming.

You heard it here first.

An Omen

Do you believe in omens?

Do you believe there is some force that sends us messages through signs to help guide us?

Because I think that is what happened to me today.

I received the details of a conference I am going on next month. I was pretty thrilled when I heard it was being held in Leicester, and had been wondering to myself how I might engineer a visit to worship at walls of the Walkers Stadium.

So imagine my delight when I learned today that our hotel is right next door to it.

Furthermore, we are having dinner in Fusions.

When I told our friend Luton Andy he said it is a sign that I am moving in the right direction.

What can that mean? Is something amazing going to happen do you think? Is it a cunning plot to get me there so Milan Mandaric can offer me a highly paid job as official LCFC blogger and getter of girl fans?

I guess I'll just have to patient.

And be certain to wear my Foxes shirt to the restaurant. Just in case they are not sure who I am.

Two Sides To Every Story

Once upon a time there was a parrot called Polly.

A green parrot called Polly.

One day Polly got into terrible trouble.

You see Polly liked to imitate the sounds she heard.

She could mimic a Philips Ladyshave. She knew 27 swear words. And she could repeat "All our operators are busy at the moment. Please call back later" 56 times before she got fed up.

On this particular day, her lady owner took her out of the house in her cage.

She took her in the car to a football pitch.

There were people shouting and singing. Polly thought she was in heaven.

"The referees a w****r" she squawked. "Who are yah? Who are yah?"

Then the footballers came out on the pitch.

And to Polly's delight she heard the sweetest of sounds.

"PHEWWWWWW"

"PHEWWWWWW", trilled Polly.

Each time she heard the lovely sound, she answered it, like a dove cooing to its lover.

But Polly's joy soon turned to horror.

She was being sent off. Banned from the touchline. An outlaw and a renegade.

How could she ever live down the shame?

So Polly did the only thing an honourable parrot can do in such circumstances.

She swallowed her suicide trill.

And the moral of this tale girls?

There are always two sides to every story.