David Darlington (Anderson/Oakes)

Frog on chair.

At the age of 5, I thought Mud and Showaddywaddy were the same thing.

My phone just played me Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth which I cannot possibly have heard this century. There's a thing.

I literally had this conversation with an American reader, reading an American book, about two weeks ago. I was wrong and she was right.

Control yourself. Love is all you need.

I rarely watch it live, but it's obviously "Reece and somebody else".

If anything, that was better than the results against Spain or Norway.

We are somehow 3-1 up. We should be two down. I can't believe what I'm watching. Fuck me.

Still, at least Gareth Bale is losing.

I know he's not there any more, but they need a much longer period of apology than that. And possibly to send diamonds and blow jobs direct to my front door.

Bless him for many things, but the notion that Kenny McLean is one of Scotland's big hopes from the bench is bringing back massive Tosh McKinlay flashbacks.

You keep telling yourself that.

I see where Rangers have sacked their manager at half nine on Sunday evening.

Because of the hat.

Every now and then watching football in this pub, on comes one of a short collection of Sainsbury's ads filmed literally across the road.

I just did three gigs in three nights, the middle one of which (and only that one) was in bloody Liverpool.

All was great but I am, not to put too fine a point on it, way too old for this shit.

Gene.

Well, tonight. Let it be my night.

I surmise Mansun have entered the room.

Come to my arms.

You may be right - I can only find those three on any edition I have. My memory insists otherwise.

I'm sure there was another Dazzle Ship or two.

It's the only one of their albums I ever play. It pisses over everything else they did from miles high.

Some of them are on an expanded remaster.

The cover is a hate crime.

Heard it on an ad the best part of thirty years back. Instantly thought, that's Peanuts music. It's magnificent.

Also, Rodri is a crybaby bully who can't comprehend losing so balls to him.

For about two years or so it was the best magazine in the world.

I did not. How ridiculously marvellous.

Oh God, I want to sleep for ten hours, like I used to be able to. So much.

Still, at least Liverpool got it up the wrong 'un.

Mind, it's nothing that needs an apology....