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Gardiner's World |
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Hi I'm Trinity's large headed midfielder Chris Gardiner and welcome to my world! Throughout the season I'll be giving you the readers a regular look at the world through my eyes. As Robbie Williams says in his song 'Let me entertain you!' |  |
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27 January 2008 Possible Social events!!!! Greetings loyal reader and welcome to a long overdue Gardiner’s World column. We apologise for our overly long absence, but now that our excellent editor in chief is doing more regular updates, we will try to be more regular. Anyway to the crux of the matter, our delight at Gareth's reinstatement as Social Sec has been shared by our reader, so we would like to share their enthusiastic letter to us that suggests some wonderful themed nights out. Read on and enjoy. I was a very interested and very excited reader of Gareth's Curran's suggestions for Trinity nights out. Goodness me it's good to have him back and to have a clear idea of what's going on rather than some expletive riddled mumbles about a possible night out in March, that everyone had to put up with last year. My hope is that it will also lead to a really good knees up abroad, at the end of a successful season on and off the pitch for both teams at Trinity. Not like last seasons debacle where only all the boring c*nts went and Rayon, and the main story was that Mark Ryan wasn't very good at general knowledge. Well anyone who's been unfortunate enough to get trapped in a conversation with him could have worked that out, without forking out loads of money to sit on a plane with the thick c*nt. I thought I would make some other suggestions for your popular Social Secretary as regards some themed nights out, God knows he's got a lot to do after that mumbling pr*ck from last year, almost single handed, stopped people even going for a drink and a 1% meat sausage after the game. Here goes, hope they meet with Gareth's approval: (1) B*mmers Night Out: this is a night out for all those people in your team who like some serious ar*e action, or even for those who are just curious. I think this night will be more heavily attended than in the past when Gus would probably turn up on his own and take some amil nitrate and try and b*m himself, but now I'm sure there would be plenty of takers. (2) Boring C*nts Night Out: Again should be a busy one, maybe Greg could make it back for this one, I'm sure he'd have a whole bunch of avoidable anecdotes from his time, where ever he is cos I wasn't really listening when he was telling me. Plus, anyone wanting a sunburn anecdote this night is a must. (3) Mum's Night: A night where all the players bring out their mums, some of the younger players might even have a fit mum for the older players to try and get a w*nk job off round the back of the Pack Horse. If someone isn't bothered what the mum looks like but still fancies getting w*nked off, my mum's always up for it after a couple of Malibu's. This night would be perfect for ugly f*ckers like Fieldy to be at least seen out once with a woman. (4) Middle Class Night out. Also known as A Tom's Night out. Like suggestion number one this would have once led to an empty Pack Horse, but getting rid of Sky and replacing it with 'You've Been Framed' did that. Trinity was famed for it's no nonsense hard as f*ck, but honest as the days long, working class lads. Now it's full of middle class m*ncers who are more interested in getting their eye brows plucked and barfing on about their "beloved Headingley" on some poncey middle class property programme like Location Location Location, than they are at getting their Fork Lift license, getting p*ssed on lager and kicking someone’s head in who's not studying 17th Century Love Poems at Leeds Uni and THEN going to the match. This really would be a popular night out, people like Mike wouldn't have to worry about being poked with a pool cue whilst trying to down a half larger shandy, and chucking up as a result. He might get poked with an epee (fencing sword Lee) whilst sipping a rich Burgandy though. If you don't want a laugh, but would like to discuss; Schools in the area; how you had a good, but a quiet Xmas; how you think immigration is getting out of control but you’re DEFINITELY not a racist; how you can't believe how much the value of your house has gone up since you bought it (in a smug voice) and you want to whisper the word 'black' in reference to someone’s skin colour; this is the night for you. (5) Woking class night out. Perfect for Leroy, Mullers, Gardiner, Rayon, Lee Field, Marcus (despite his poncey first name and double barrel surname, he qualifies on jailbird status), on account of being thick Killer and Mark Ryan and on account of being Irish and therefore subservient, Travers and Gareth. This would obviously be the best night out. There'd be shed loads of lager drank, or cheap working class wine, of which there is plenty available at the Pack Horse. Loads of fighting, swearing and having a go at students. There'd be knee tremblers around the back with some posh bint who likes a bit of rough. A pavement full of gob and healthy collection of tats. You may also notice that there is a healthy ethnic mix on this night out. Well done to all the lads who qualify for this night you truly are the lifeblood of football. (6) Geordie Night Out. This would be a night for people closely associated with the club who don't actually play. You obviously have to be a Geordie to qualify, although creepy Southerners and people with gout who look like creepy Southerners have been know to infiltrate. For others who, although they aren't unfortunate enough to be a Geordie, would like to blag their way in, follow these simple rules. Stand closely together and babble on inanely about nothing in particular, but grin all the way through it and lean, chin o'er pint, when delivering the line "Your Mam" which is considered a witty retort to the put down "Your mam". Then go on aboot sh*gging and make sure you make yourself sound f*cking top dog, but have a whole load of phrases for things like "slip her the babies arm, man" (place your p*nis in her v*gina); "Wor man wor's having a four ball the neet" (I'm sorry I can't come out with you tonight, my partner and I are having dinner with another couple) "Your mam" (your mother); "wayaye man wake up Martin/Jordan your toe's ganning out he door ahead of ye man" (Excuse me Martin, wake up, your gout is causing your toe to expand and it is in danger of leaving without you). Be aware that Geordies usually travel in 3s, speak like they are still students and will put the prefix "Geordie" before their slightly altered surnames, so, for example, Pearson becomes "Geordie Pearsoner". Talking about Keegan like he isn't an idiot, is a must. Finish the night off my all crowding in on some vaguely attractive lass all try to out do each other with amusing asides, delivered whilst clutching your pint glass to your chest and leaning o'er it, before saying to the girl in question, out of the side of your mouth..."your mam". (7) Sh*t Shirt Night Out. Just for Pete. (8) A Robbie Pearson Arranged Night Out. This would appear like any other night at the Pack Horse as no f*cker would be there, except for some googly eyed freak stood at the bar on his own, spitting and mumbling incoherently, who once the Pack Horse Landlord stops being "friendly" (creepy) with a young nervous looking barmaid, will ask him to leave. The landlord will then be told "F*ck Macca, I'm the f*cking ex-social secretary, f*cking Robbie, f*cking Pearson." Before Robbie does his hamstring and has to leave. (9) You've heard of Vicars and Tarts nights out, well how about as an alternative, Freedom Fighters and Cowardly Traitors Night. This will be a colourful night full of singing, dancing, tin whistle playing and alchohol. The chief revellers will be Gareth, Travers, Mullers, Mark Ryan and Christy Gardiner. In addition there will be a shifty, weasely looking Paul McIntyre. Suddenly the music, joy filled party will be broke up by a big ponce on a horse, Colonel Pr*ck Priestly. As him and his armed men in black uniforms wade in to the innocent unarmed revellers and their wives and young children, it will become apparent to these fine, moral, patriotic and proud young men that the snivelling creep, who seemed like his face might have been burnt or scarred in some way (Macca), was now riding on the back of P*ick Preistly's horse and pointing out who he should drag out in to the streets and shoot in front of his doting children. The night ends in carnage, but the revellers will live to organise another such night AND ONE DAY THEY'LL FINISH THAT NIGHT WITH THEIR OWN PEOPLE AND NO ONE FROM OUTSIDE WILL EVER BRING IT TO A HALT AGAIN! Well there you go some marvellous suggestions from our loyal reader I'm sure you'll agree. We here at Gardiner's world are delighted to see Gareth back in his rightful place as Social Secretary. We are confident he needs no help from this column or it's reader, but the suggestions are there should he want them. Good look with organising the next out and dragging some of those boring c*nts out for a laugh, a successful team is built on team spirit and there's plenty of room available at The Horse. 'Til next time folks get out there AND SCORE A SOCIABLE GOAL!! What do you think of Gardiner's suggestions? Do you have any suggestions of your own for good social evenings? E-mail Trinity FC Online now with your views. |
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15 January 2007 SHOUT AT HIM!!! Morning Trinity fans everywhere. Gardiner's World over the forth coming weeks is going to undertake a slightly different slant. Yes the near the knuckle, shoot from the hip, ground breaking, Online Award winning, writing style, our reader so enjoys, will still be there. However, over the next few weeks Trinity football club have given Gardiner's World unprecedented (basically never before heard of, Lee) access to some of Trinity's favourite sons. Gardiner's World will spend at least, AT LEAST, a day in the company of one of Trinity's Galactrino's (some will obviously take longer; you trying telling Martin Clubbs story in a day; some shorter; Gus). There will be an in-depth Q&A with each of these Trinity greats, some veterans of many a incident packed Trinity campaign, some new and exciting talent, who will add a modern flava (we believe it's called). We can't guarantee what will be said, but we can guarantee; interesting insights into the game and the minds of some Trinity greats; personal profiles of very private figures; explosive exclusives and a never before seen look at the sanctum that is, The Trinity Dressing Room. We here at Gardiner's World would like to thank all that have made this project possible, it promises to be one of the most exciting, shocking, enlightening and hilarious (except for the week we interview Greg) projects we've ever been fortunate enough to embark on. Enjoy. In true Gardiner's World we kick of this exciting series of interviews with a character who, since joining Trinity has become as influential on off the pitch as he ever was on it (especially after he's subbed himself). A character who not satisfied with influencing a game with his controlled, incisive passing, turned to influencing it with his controlled, incisive tactics. Such forward thinking gems as "Do we really want this?" "They've got a few black lads playing for them, but don't be scared of them" and "Jonesy get warmed up." Of course I speak of highly popular Trinity 2nd Team player/manager, Neil Hig(owithboys)gins. We met Neil at one of his favourite hang outs, The Fruit Cupboard, he seemed to have someone under his table but they scarpered when we arrived, let interview commence. GW=Gardiner's World NH=Neil Higgins.
WOW, follow that Trinity's other budding interviewees, what an explosive, insightful interview from one of Trinity's least, sorry I mean, most popular players and members. I think we'll all agree apart from his fascinating insights on the game/club, he has finally put those salacious rumours about his sexuality behind him (fanarr, fanarr). I'm sure we'll hear more from Neil, so I've made copies of the full interview and deposited them in a safety deposit box. Looking forward to the next one, I know I am. Until then, ASK A PROBING QUESTION OR TWO OF THE OPPOSITION GOALKEEPER, BY SCORING A GOAL Who do you want Gardiner's World to interview next? E-mail Trinity FC Online now with your views. |
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25 September 2006 Come on Trinity! Another season looms over the horizon like one of Lee Fields ex's, casting a giant shadow. I have to say we here are Gardiner's World are really excited about the forth coming season more so than in a long, long time. The reason for my excitement, simple, Trinity's new players. I think they're going to be excellent additions. Don't get me wrong I'm thrilled to bits to see several of the old faces back again this year, and by old I don't just mean jowelly faced Jordan, puffy cheeked Robbie, "I said puff your chest out, not your gut", Macca and gormless faced Travers, gormless face. But the young old faces; Simpsons socks Rayon; Calvin Calvin (3 pairs for a fiver), LeRoy and "I've got to travel with that google eyed perv again" Dennis. There’s also the return of some of Trinity's older players, who look younger because of their eye for fashion, modern 'attitudes' or baby faced public schooled rosy cheeks. I refer of course to Trinity's ever popular, co-manager, the evergreen Jim 'Mullers' Mullowney and his FASHIONABLE skinhead; Trinity trend setter and all round japester, Chris "Regards" Gardiner and of course, big middle class "the houses around my way have gone up by about £8,000 over the summer alone", ponce, Tom "The Pr*ck" Priestley. We haven't yet seen enough of the teeth baring maniac that is Martin "Clubby" Clubbs, or anything of the enthusiastic, Mick Toney loving (doing a degree!!!!) Mark Ryan, but they'll be welcomed back with open arms and broad smiles I'm sure. The much loved short munching b*ttocks of Jimmy Yates have also made a popular return, but Jim maybe taking his chest into the outfield this year, if so, I'm sure he will prove every bit as effective and reliable there as he has done between the posts. All those players aside, who make Trinity the fascinating club that it is, it's the New Kids On the Block that have got me salivating more than Robbie in a play pen. I'll go through some of the players that we here at Gardiner's world have been fortunate enough to witness so far and if there are any ladies planning on spectating this year you won't be disappointed, especially if you like attacking midfielders with ENORMOUS conks, that’s not a spelling error. You seem to have acquired another middle class ponce called Tom, but this one is a rare creature, a middle class ginger of all things. Normally ginger people are ugly and therefore treated as stupid at school and underachieve as a result. They then find it difficult to get employment and break out of the ginger ghetto they have so rightly been placed in. Whisper it, but someone within the club, an extremely popular member of the club, had to shave his head to be accepted in the education community, a distressing but true story, for the sake of his family he does not want me to reveal that he is a secret ginge. It's not Neil by the way, I said popular, not b*nder. So well done to Tom for breaking out of that sh*t and becoming a good player AND middle class. One small request for Tom would be, keep it shut in the changing room so the opposition don't think we're a bunch of f*ggots, and because your banter is p*ss poor and don't say things like "Hey come on player" to members of the opposition, that tough guy talk already belongs to someone else who was raised in a house with a back garden and a separate toilet and bathroom and is called Tom. You also appear to have re-acquired the services of Dave 'Killer' Kilsby, another excellent acquisition. Dave had a brief sabbatical, he was away from Trinity for one season, but the club stayed close to his heart. Dave showed this by turning up for 11 minutes of our semi-final victory over Beeston and by several stupendously unfunny exchanges with various Old Boys websites 'wits'. On the pitch Dave is an uncompromising defender who is also a very good ball player and I'm sure his return will be a huge boost to the Trinity ranks. His inarticulate ramblings, poorly dyed hair, clear lack of qualifications and military background, also provide a welcome boost to Trinity's efforts to become a more intimidating working class team. Dave is 23 and lives with his mum. Dave's boost to Trinity's 'working classness' leads me to another welcome addition to the ranks, Scott, a new goalkeeper. After just one showing I have seen enough to know that his talking, agility and presence will make Trinity a safer outfit. The good news off the pitch is he's from the North East, the forgotten area of England where black smoke still fills the sky, some incomprehensible local dialect is mumbled between 'natives' over the outdoor washing lines that fill the street, as the menfolk, faces blackened by another tough day down t'pit (even though the dozy b*stards don't realise they closed over a decade ago), as small grubby faced urchins rake the bins for some fish bones 'for us tea'. Outsiders are greeted with great suspicion and usually end up thrown on a huge fire in the village square, sacrificed to the great 'Bottle of Broon' and then they all dance around the burning corpse dressed only in a large moustache. Basically we all know that not only are inhabitants of this area poorly educated, they also just sound plane thick. Furthermore, and of even greater interest to the Trinity clan, he does shift work. For years Trinity have envied the likes of Stanningley and Collegians in particular when they burst into our changing rooms smelling of Old Spice and White Lightning, start talking about been p*ssed last neet and then punctuate their 'sentences' with swear words, before one of them goes (to give the impression they don't even know who's going to playing) "Derrr, where's f*cKing like, f*cking like, Dazzer, the f*cker, like?" before a team mate responds; "He can't, like f*cking play like cos he's got like f*cking to do like late f*cking shift at like f*cking factory and that, the f*cker like". Much poor grammar and banter ensues usually something along the lines of "what you putting that f*cking shirt on for, your sh*t, HAR HAR" (RESPONSE) "Oh yeah, your f*cking mum's sh*t, HAR HAR" etc. etc. Trinity's nicely educated C2's, and above, would cower on the other side of the changing room, NOW however we will be able to retort with a similar tale and a mutual respect will instantly be formed between us and Stanningley/Collegians, until they get back on their carts and begin the 3 day journey back to their villages, picking up exotic items such as oranges for their wives/cousins and talking about how "them p*ffs are alright now they've got that f*cking sh*ft worker playing for them. I might come to f*cking big city more f*cking often. I could maybe stay at that posh c*nts house sounds like he's got loads of spare f*cking room". So three cheers for Scott, Trinity's first shift worker. (Macca does shift work, but he's a manager and has a degree, so it doesn't count) This brings me nicely on, in a way I can't quite fathom, to another new and highly significant signing for Trinity, ex-Roundhegians, Rep side regular, Imran Mughal. A signing that has got even the most hardened of Trinity's fans excited and moist in areas they'd long forgotten could get moist. Imran is a well known and well respected player in this league, he can operate in a multitude of positions and is not afraid to berate the ref in any of them. Imran’s all round work ethic, ability and experience would be a huge asset to any team and Trinity are delighted to have him on board I'm sure. Furthermore he has shown he has a real NOSE for goal, that he can SNIFF an opportunity, he can SMELL fear in the opposition, he SNOZ exactly where the goal is. We were slightly puzzled by one thing here at Gardiner's world though and that is the spelling of his nickname (origin unknown at this stage) BEANo, it's surely spelt GONZo. We here at Gardiner's world would like to point out at this stage that we were asked to put in these thinly disguised digs at the fact that Imran has a prominent hooter, by other Trinity regulars, to encourage 'banter'. This was put to us, by sources who shall remain unnamed, so that Imran would realise he was already considered 'one of the lads' and as a result doesn't have to follow that weasel Pearson around before games, in a "he's played for the rep side, he must be well respected" type way. He's not. There are of course other new additions also, but until their plans become clearer, we shall not say too much about them here at Gardiner's world. These are Dan "I might have to shave my head for fashion reasons soon" Berry; "I've been in a magazine don't you know" Regan; Daz. There is one person you may not have noticed has left, seeing as most of you didn't know he actually played for us, Dave Rogers. Dave's exact whereabouts are unknown, but suffice to say he'll be using his hollow chest somewhere to accompany flooded villagers to safety. However every cloud...could be seen as a prelude to a downturn in the weather, Jonesy is Back in "Return of the Toneless Bicep". A welcome return to one of Trinity's favourite sons, tired of pacing the garden at home, "the Mrs'" Porsche gone, he's decided to pace the touchline for another season. The t-shirt sleeves are higher, the gibberish statements more frequent, the skin more orange, but we wouldn't change any of it, he's arms and he's dangerous. SO COME ON TRINITY LET'S MAKE IT A SEASON FOR THE WHOLE CLUB TO REMEMBER, GET OUT THERE AND SCORE LOT'S OF GOALS! Do do you agree with Gardiner? What do you think of Trinity's new players? E-mail Trinity FC Online now with your views. |
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15 May 2006 Trinity goes to Hollywood! Yes folks it's true, at last, the greatest club we know is about to hit the big screen. It has come as no surprise to us here at Gardiner's World, as over the years we have been inundated with an offer to make a film on the soap opera that is Trinity F.C. Trinity has always been more than a mere football club, much much more. Born out the brilliant, but twisted minds, of Pete 'bag of sweets' Fusco, Finbarr 'I'll get him after the match whilst heading off in his car' Laverty, Frankie 'Break your legs, but not in a dirty way' Foster, Tony 'Break your legs in a dirty way' Hegarty, Joe 'I could have gone to Yorkshire Bank, but they didn't want me' Collucio and of course the great Andy 'H.F.S. Loans League’ Lowe, Trinity always sought to be a club that promoted family values and it's local community, so it moved miles away from the college with which it was affiliated and was made up of players from all over the place. A dream had been realised and the first act, in what would be a fairy (no offence Neil) tale and an epic story. God bless those brave pioneers. The reason that we turned down all the offers we'd received, here at Gardiner's world, was that we didn't feel they ever gave us the kind of creative freedom the club gives it's players, so therefore the story would not be a fair reflection of the Trinity spirit, ethos and creed and we weren't afforded the chance to distort the truth, exaggerate and humiliate to a suitable degree. plus most Hollywood studios have a strict no ginger blokes policy, which would have rendered the Trinity story almost untellable. We, here at Gardiner's world felt that for the Trinity story to be told to full effect, it could not be told in merely one film, or even in some kind of Lord of the Rings, grandiose Trilogy, but rather in a collection of films, each one unique in it's own way, like everyone who's represented Trinity, yet undeniably linked, like everyone who's represented Trinity, yes even you Jonesy. There are those among you, yes I know you'll have already spotted it Lee, who will have said "Ahh, just like the great Italian director Fellini and his 'Mi Attori, Fantasia' series made in the 50's" well bully for you Fieldy, we admit without shame that the idea is indeed a homage to the criminally under seen Fellini. We felt this was the only way we could show; the triumphs; the crushing defeats; the tears; the joy; the asthma; the gout; the victory in adversity; the internal conflict; the hair loss; the loves the losses and the pointless punts into touch; that we so identify with the Trinity tale. What will unfold before your eyes in this, and maybe a further Gardiner's world column is our idea of how the story may be told over a series of films. Please, take some popcorn, a bag of pic-an-mix, a large coke and some sl*g from Miggy to wa*k you off and enter the theatre and enjoy. The first movie in the series would be a joyous celebration of an art form Trinity have perfected over the years. This would be a colourful and carnival like film, it would be "OFFSIDE: THE MUSICAL". The film would contain elaborate dance scenes, of defenders, dressed as Macca and Clubby, so one with mad gnashing teeth and glasses and the other with a, silent villain who ties damsels' to the train tracks, beard, swooping forward, towards, but critically not passed, another bunch of fellas prancing in shorts towards the goal WITH THE BALL ,with there hands dramatically raised, singing with great gusto: "OFFSIIIIIIDE...OFFSIIIIDE, WEFFERWEE, SURELY YOU CAN SEE, THEY ARE....OFFSIIIIDE. YOU KNOW THE RULE IF I RAISE MY HAND AND LOOK LIKE A FOOL AND THE ATTACKERS PASS ME WHILST I SIMPLY STAND, MOTIONLESS. THEN THEY ARE...OFFSIIIIDE. (Then with a dramatic, very camp dancer like, double take, Clubby and Macca look behind them to see the rest of their team mates, before the referee pirouettes towards them and then sings in deep voice) I'M AFRAID FOR YOU, YES, YOU TWO, ARE THE ONLY ONES IN FRONT OF THE BALL, SO IT STANDS TO REASON, I CAN ONLY MAKE ONE CALL, THEY ARE, THEY ARE.....ONSIIIIDE. ONE, NIL I THINK IT'S FAIR TO SAY, OF YOUR OFFSIDE TRAP THAT IT DOESN'T WORK BECAUSE IT'S CR*P IT CAUSES YOUR TEAM A GREAT DEAL OF HARM PLEASE NOW, PAUL, LOWER YOUR ARM, FROM THIS IRONY YOU CAN'T HIDE YOU'VE BEEN STOOD THERE SO LONG, YOU ARE...OFFSIIIIDE. This particular film will also incorporate a musical number where the scene will resemble the infamous metamorphosis scene in Jekyll and Hyde, where brilliant Physician, Doctor Jekyll, turns into the evil Mr.Hyde. The scene in this film will see Martin Clubbs in a dressing room getting ready for a 2nd team game. Martin will have his glasses on and be impeccably dressed, discussing the latest developments in the financial sector and listening to the banter going on around him. Suddenly as Martin's hand starts to reach towards his face he will begin to twitch, then his body will start to contort and his back will arch in a disturbing manner. He then hits the floor, seemingly convulsing and gargling, finally he curls into a ball with his back to the rest of the dressing room, who are in shock. Slowly he turns his head (he's now wearing a football kit, with a number 12 on the back), the camera first shows the horrified looks on his team mates faces, then it goes back to Clubby to show his face, free of glasses. It's horrific, eyes maniacal, teeth bared and clenched together, fist clenched, he bellows out a blood curdling cry of "YEEEEAH! COME ON TOM!!!", a young horrified Leroy asks, "My God what is it?", a rueful looking Macca simply replies, "That, Leroy, is no longer Martin, that is (dramatic music), CLUBBY (lightning flashes through the window". Later on a rueful Martin can be seen (back to normal) in the changing room alone, face pressed against the rain soaked window, occasional flashes of lightning illuminating his face, Martin begins to sing in a sorrowful voice; "What have I become? What is to be done? How can I control this monstorrr I AM (slams the bench) Martin, the financial advisorrr. Who is this other me? That makes me so an-ger-eee I see the ball, I can't get there But the monster means I do not care I make my 40 yard charge, and with a growl I commit a most horrific foul Why oh Why, (Martin is now outside in the rain) Clubby, you monster, all I'm as-kin (then standing eyes towards the heavens, arms outstretched, getting rained on heavily) IS PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, LET ME PLAY AS MARRRRTINNN!! (the song ends with an emotionally exhausted Martin falling to his knees, as lightning to illuminate sky). It's powerful stuff I think you'll agree. The next film in the series tackles the uplifting story of the Irish lads within the club, from there humble, shoeless, penniless beginnings to arriving, wide eyed at, at the 'Home of Football' St. Theresa's. This film will be entitled "Divvydance". The stars will be big, eared toothless simpleton Gareth Curran; Gormless faced, f*ckwit Stevie Travers (his cockney voice will be dubbed out by James Nesbitt) and large faced, illiterate, Eamonn. The film will show them, rather like in Braveheart, in a small village made up of mud huts, out door fires and hunchbacked, toothless simpletons, with eyebrows on their cheeks, shoeless and dressed in rags, cackling and singing around a burning cow, the onscreen caption will read, "Ireland. 1998." Our 3 heroes will be conversing in some barely decipherable language, the conversation will go something like this: Gareth: "Sure I hear that der England is some mighty place all together" Travers: "Tis true I heard it meself, sure I'd love to go over there, I could bring my gormless face along to 'oul fairground and let people smash me in it with der oul fishts and sure I wouldn't feel a fecking ting" Eamonn: "Ugh, umn, ahoo a goo ra ta" Gareth: "Too right boy, you said it. I'd dare say we could make millions to be sure I could let the children ride on me ears, you could get your oul gormless face bathered in and Eamonn, sure people would pay thousands to see your big oul face" Travers: "So it's agreed then we'll go. I'll grab me bike and me oul rain coat, to be sure, 'cos we'll have to ride across the sea All 3 together: "UP THE F*CKING RA!!! The film would then go onto to show them p*ssing everyone off on the boat by doing a sh*te dance and playing the spoons, before eventually making there way to Leeds. When they get to Leeds there, there is a a large shaven headed bloke with one huge toe poking through his Cord, spats, wearing a cowboy hat and an A.O.K Oil t-shirt, he starts to talk in a rubbish Irish accent "Howya, boys, lishten all ye other oirish boys are working for me...". Travers then says "Sure dis sounds great wad ya tink boys", they all agreed. The large toed man continues, "To be sure I own a pine shop and a sandwich shop, hah? What do ye's tink?" The 3 green behind the ears Irish lads start to p*ss themselves laughing and say "Sure no c*nt would believe dat, Pine and sandwiches for feck sake, sure you musht tink we'se are awful tick". The three of them take off laughing and doing a jig whilst playing the accordion and the fiddle. The final scene shows the big eared fella being thrown in jail because he smelt some vodka and then headbutted a 73 old woman, who apparently was "being a right f*cking pr*ck", even though seconds earlier he was "having the crack with her". The next film starts in the maggot ridden cess-pit, that is the Eastend of London. The opening shot shows 3 fat, stumpy, bald blokes sat around the Joanna (piano) having a right old ding dong (sing song), in pub. The youngest stumpy one then suddenly at the top of voice, in a real Chas n' Dave voice, starts singing, whilst moving round the pub tapping a different person on the arm, to get their attention, at the beginning of each line: "MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR is so great MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR is so good MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR's my best mate And the hardest in our hood MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR's better than you MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR's than me There's noffink he can't do Speak to him and you'll agree MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR is the best MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR is top class He's better than the rest And he'll kick your student ass MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR knows whats what MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR's like no other MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR's got the lot You know what, I wish I was MYYYYYY BRUVVVVERRRRR!!! Then they all waddle outside, cigarettes held confidently in the air and waddle darn to the nearest tattoo parlour, telling everyone they pass (arms bent at the elbow moving up an down simultaneously) "YOU WANNA GET YOURSELF DARN TO THE OLD TAT PARLOUR, THATS WHAT YOU WANNA DO, YOU WANNA GET YOURSELF DARN THERE AND GERCH YOURSELF A RIGHT TASTY TAT, THATS WHAT YOU WANNA DO. OIIIII MATE YOU A FARKING STUDENT, YOU BETTER OPE YOU AINT MATE, COS WE GIVE STUDENTS A RIGHT LONG TALKING TO WE DO BEFORE DOING FARK ALL (then all 3, in perfect sinque, start smiling, eyes closed, heads nodding, and extend their arms out infront, hands in handshake position and start walking forwards). ALLWIIGHT BIG HARD LOOKING BLOKE, WE'RE YOUR MUCKA WE ARE, YOU WANNA DRINK 'ARD BLOKE, COS IF YOU WANNA A DRINK WE'LL GET YOU A DRINK MATE, THAT'S WHAT WE'LL DO IF YOU WANNA A DRINK." Later on the 3 lads can be seen sat in their huge front room in a very comfortable looking detached house, with ludicrous comb overs, their father is stood infront of them, he starts to speak in a very plummy voice, "I've gathered you here, my sons, for 2 reasons, firstly to humiliate you by taking a family photo of you with your varyingly embarrassing attempts to fend off your rapid hair loss; and secondly to inform you that, the only one with a bit of a brain, Matthew, will be sent away to Grammar school and then he will go up North to, hopefully, toughen up a bit, any questions?". A timid looking Matt pipes up, "Yes Pa Pa", his Father replies, impatiently, "Well. Yes, what is it boy for goodness sake?", Matt, slightly teary eyed, continues, "Aren't Northerners all big working class, oafish yobs, who drink cheap Bitter, have heavy retarded looking eye-lids and like fighting?". Matt's father speaks whilst picking up a photo off their Chippendale desk, "Yes I'm afraid they are, they look like this (shows a picture, with 'Lee Feild' written underneath it). You must avoid or befriend these types of people and to win over the Northerners you must offer chaps who look like this (holds up a picture a total geek, who looks like he wouldn't have the strength to withstand the air from a toilet hand dryer, with the name 'Greg Turner' written underneath) outside and bring them to a place where no one can see you pay them to go home", Matt, nods, "Yes Pa Pa I'll do it". His Father then says, "now sing the Lords prayer, IN LATIN!" We then see Matthew at Grammar school, learning; authentic Cokernee; the creepy laugh; the high pitched rallying of the troops; the arm around someone for a private word technique; and most importantly of all, how to get stuck in while in a controlled manner. In this latter one we see Matthew being taught by warriors, versed in the most ancient techniques of a wide variety of Marshal Arts, how to; control his anger and channel it at a student; how to keep his temperature on the level; control his pulse and heart beat, whilst repeating his Mantra of "EVERY FARKING TACKLE, EVERY FARKING HEADER, EVERY FARKING CHALLENGE". What Matt was learning is whilst everyone else is perfectly in control and he is almost having a fit he's so worked up, he tells everyone THEY'RE out of control, but he CAN control it. We see the disappointment on Matt's face, when, he is tod he has failed this course because he can't control the pitch of his voice. The rest of the film as Matt journeys North is sure to pull at the heart strings of all Trinity fans, as we all know that he is now Trinity's great leader. There are more stories to come of course, but conscience of reader and his low attention span, we will limit it to these for now. Next time look out for Leroy, Rayon and Dennis, with Afro's in 1970's Blaxplotation film "Wassssup", where Dennis doesn't come off his phone for the whole 2 hour film, only for viewers to discover at the end that his battery was flat all along. Watch Leroy think he's landed a top modelling job and is going to be doing photoshoots with Kate Moss, only to discover that it's Calvin KLIEN she works for and not Calvin Calvin and witness Rayon wowing the ladies in a club with his dance moves, only for his trousers to rise up and everyone to see his 'Simpsons' socks and start howling with laughter; Tom Priestley in 1970's 'Love Thy Neighbour' type non-PC comedy; "Location Location Location"; See Neil Higgins and Gus in 'buddy' movie "Brokeback Mountneil"; and see the heart warming tale of a boy who was born a thalidomide but went on to defy the doctors and have huge arms, in "Jonesy's Bird's Got a Porsche". These are just a sample of the continue series in the extraordinary story about this great club, Trinity O.B. Until that time comes, get out there AND FILM YOURSELF SCORING A GOAL (If your called Robbie don't bother we haven't got that big a budget) Would any of these films get nominated for an Oscar? Which other Trinity stars would you like to see portrayed on the big screen? E-mail Trinity FC Online now with your views. |
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14 April 2006 GARTHantuan Knowledge We here at Gardiner's world love a good in-depth interview on some of footballing heroes. There's nothing more entertaining, informative, amusing and insightful than listening to footballers respond to some mentally stretching questions on their career/game/life/opinions on the team and the fans. Our respective pants, here at Gardiner's world, are then laden with cream when we hear the wide variety of answers come to questions such as "You won 1-0, you scored the goal, a good day?" ANSWER: "Well at the end of the day the three points are the most important thing, cos at the end of the day the lads 'ave given it everything, and (insert name as appropriate making sure you add a y at the end) has delivered a right ball and I've just been fortunate enough to get my foot on the end of it and luckily it's gone in. But at the end of the day we're delighted, so we're all looking forward to midnight, cos it's the end of the day". EXCELLENT, that sort of TV gold is our idea, here at Gardiner's world, of heaven. However these days the top stars get so much exposure, that even the most gifted of interviewers, are struggling to find new and challenging ways of asking them if they're looking forward to the World Cup/ playing in their first Cup Final/ Beating up some Asians on a Saturday night/shoving a vibrating mobile up their a*se, allegedly. We would hate this hugely entertaining way of getting to know the modern player, to burn out. That is why, here at Gardiner's World, we would like to propose another revolutionary idea. For us here at Gardiner's World, there is only one interviewer who can keep the great player interview fresh and exciting, you can keep your O.T.T enthusiasm of Andy Gray, your forced chuminess of Motty, your dour straight talkingness of Hansen and even your lame innuendoness of Lineker, give us the uncomplicated, man down the pub, why use one word when 308 will do, Garth Crooks. Here is a man who speaks the language of the man in the street, fair enough that man may be in a dressing gown and slippers and be giving off a powerful smell of urine and hospital ward, but nevertheless he is a man in the street. Crooks thinks outside the box, so far outside the box in fact that it is not a box to him but ‘a conceptual cuboid space, that can be both 3 dimensional and 2 dimensional, thus rendering it a mathematical peculiarity’. Now take this genius of the imaginatively posed question and place him and his weapon of choice, a microphone, in front of some of Trinity's finest and you have yourself a rejuvenated format that could well save the saturated interview market. We were so excited by this concept, here at Gardiner's World, that we used some state of the art technology, a computer, to set up virtual interviews between Crooksy and some of Trinity's greatest modern sons. What will eventually follow is little 1/2 question snippets from those interviews, enjoy, we did. Crooks: "Hey diddle diddle (dramatic pause, hands clasped together as if in prayer, leading out from his lip) the cat (moves hands away from face) and the fiddle, the cow jumped (pursed lips, smug I'm about to impart knowledge look on face) quite literally over the Moon. You'd just been punched in your gormless face by one of your own players as you were about to score, were you over the moon? (sit back dramatically in the chair enamoured by your own genius) Travers: "Well, to be fair to the lads, it was a tight game and at the end of the day Jim's delivered the perfect fist and all I've had to do is get me gormless face on the end of it, I mean I couldn't miss really". Well done Crooksy, you've managed to even make that divvy Travers sound interesting, next! Crooksy: "Aborigines, Kangaroo's, Ayers Rock, Alf Stewart, Galares, half wit's in tight denim shorts holdin' a stubby before boring you senseless about going bush in their Ute's, even though they live in a massive house in Sydney, backpackers boring you stiff with stories about how them and Drongo, Bushtucker Bob and Bludger got in a fight with 17 Thai kick boxers in Sri Lanka and kicked the f*rking sh*t out of the no good yahoo's. You got dumped on your arse by a defender resembling an E.C. butter mountain, how did that feel?" Scarsella: " (stubby in hand, sleeves cut off his check shirt, pornographically tight denim shorts on) Well to be honest with you Garrrrrthey the ball was there for the two of us to go for, and this f*rrrking bludger was tanking in at 7cm's a minute and I mean I've been in the bush and stared straight in the eyes of a f*rking wild boar and I knew what to expect from this fat galare. Turns out I was f*rking wrong and the fat b*rrrrrstard went and dumped me f*rking a*se up in the air, well at the end of the day mate you could have knocked me over with a Dingo's tail as he's only gone and done me ankle the b*rrrrrstard, fancy a cold one Crooksy you b*rrrrrrstard, Oi Shiela how about a couple of cold ones over here for me and this bludger, you blackie's are alright you know....". Another victory Croosksy, you made an Aussie sound intelligent, next. Crooksy: (brow furrowed in intense thought) No no (pause) no no no no no (lean forward with intent, gesturing towards the interviewee) no. There's no limit, and if you could permit me, no no limit we'll reach for the top. Is there no limit to the amount of curls you'll do?" (sit back at speed look away from interviewee and then back, lips pursed, as if to suggest, that question was so insightful I almost don't know where it came from) Jonsey: "To be fair to the lads I do like to do some curls, 'cos at the end of the day it keeps me away from the sit-ups and to be fair to the lads they know that if I wear a body warmer it covers me gut but you can still see me big f*cking arms, Crooksy. Here are you eating those chips? I need the carbs for me arms.". Crooksy you the man, you've managed to weedle out of Jonsey some top class, hitherto secret, training tips. Next! Crooksy: "(long excruciating silence as Crooksy sits deep in thought, then turns to the camera) Sorry I can not think of a single thing to ask him (then Crooksy gets up and leaves, camera flashes to the interviewee) Rogers: "What? Is that it? But I had a really good anecdote about this lecture I was late for...". Never mind Crooksy, even the greats go dry occasionally. Next! Crooksy: "(fingers massaging his temples, looking at the ground, slowly and in stunted form, Crooksy continues) In my house, where my wife sleeps, where my children come and play with their toys. (raises head and stares intently at the interviewee). You've got 30 cats and 30 dogs at your place, isn't that simply just a sh*t Zoo?" Macca: "To be fair to the zoo we've also got a Parrot, so you know at the end of the day that’s 3 different types of animal and to be fair to the zoo, me and the Missus have got loads of experience because we've owned our own cat and dog for a number of years now. The parrot's f*cked though." Crooksy: "(Again deep in thought, before lurching forward at the beginning of each point and back at the end), The Berlin Wall, The Star Wars Project, The Iron Curtain, Group 4, all examples of security/defence, you were dealing with a routine toe bung against Colton 8ths, (more intensely) what happened" Macca: "(bursting a spot on his face) I was confused by the unexpected straightness of it, I jumped up to head it on 7 separate occasions without any success and to be fair to their 42 year old centre forward he could really shift for someone on crutches. I looked back at Yatesy in goals and to be fair to him he's got involved in a chest off with a local Nun so he was out of the equation. I was just about to deal with the situation by putting my stupid arm down and stop shouting for offside and just as I was getting to the ball, fair play to Clubby he came out of nowhere, and smashed straight into me, which was amazing 'cos he was on a golfing trip that weekend. The two of us were on the floor, we got up quick as a flash, disorientated I ran out on to York Road and got hit by an Austin Allegro, and Clubby went through someone’s Patio doors. We heard later that the 42 year old outpaced O'Keefe and scored. But hey thats football, Crooksy you know it's cruel sometimes, would you like to see some puppies?". Excellent Crooksy, your in-depth questioning has uncovered the single-mindedness of a water tight defence, that, ironically, sprung a leak, BECAUSE of a bung! Next Crooksy: "(legs crossed, arms spread out over the back of the couch, fully relaxed)The House Doctor, Man about the House, House, on Channel 5, Little House on the Prairie, Our House in the Middle of Street. You looked like a Vicar trying to look hip on Location, Location, Location, could you Locate your pride after this TV debacle?" Camera pans out to show interviewee in a Boater, striped jacket and khaki slacks just pouring a drink from a jug, by what looks like a lake. Tom P: "Drop of Pimms player? Well I mean to be fair to the chaps and Intra Diem, ha, ha, that’s Latin for at the end of the day, (Crooksy nods smugly and knowingly), I mean as you can see the lads at Location, Location, Location have done us proud Intra Diem. I mean me and the wife (points to Anne)... Crooksy: "(Looking slightly startled) Oh I assumed because of her accent that she was staff" Tom P: "(wrinkling his nose in disapproval) Come on player. Anyway as I was saying Intra Diem, the wife and I wanted a bigger pond (points to what was assumed to be a lake), but over all the chaps done well. I mean the neighbours are first class and we love nothing more than to have a lovely dinner party at least once a week, this isn't going on that ghastly Trinity website is it? No good, anyway we were holidaying in the Hampshires, New England... (then some really loud voices could be heard) Oh dear must be some sort of Kuhm Mela festival thats gone off track, ANNE, ANNE, darling, release the hounds I think there are some Asians outside. (Suddenly a string of expletives can be heard and shouts of "Priestley you posh c*nt, send your Missus out here we'll f*cking sort her out for ya") Oh God! Anne, ANNNNNNE quick get me my Smith & Wesson, sorry Crooksy we'll have to terminate". Off camera shots and slavering hounds can be heard, along with shouts of "Ha, you missed me posh c*nt, you only got me f*cking head" and "yeah, you tell him Mick. Do you want me to wrap meself around your head and be your helmet, I'd do that I'd take a bullet for you Mick, I would". Crikey Crooksy, your unique way of questioning, your chummy everyman speak has even managed to get you the most precious of invites, the one that opens the Priestley gates. Once in you opened up Tom like a can of Caviar, to reveal to his fans, the previously unseen, he's the same as you or me, side, well done player. Crooksy: "(Crooksy, now levitating above the couch having reached a higher plain, is in a cross legged classic Yoga position) Evil Knevil, Chris Bonnington, Eddie Kidd, Patrick Swayze. These are all thrill seekers who will try anything to, try the undoable, (smug look to signify that he's just added another word to the English language) to get the adrenalin rush that come swith it. You were playing East Ardsley, near Bradford, in the penultimate game of the season, what happened? Robbie: "well, f*cking, nothing was, f*cking happening so I, f*cking, had to try something dint I. So I f*cking got the ball on the half way line and I f*cking thought to myself, f*ck it, yeah there's an easy pass on, but thats to f*cking Macca and if I don't give it to his f*cking shin he won't be able to kick it, so f*ck it. I lowered my hat over my f*cking eyes Jacko style and did a f*cking backheeler, it was so f*cking elaborate that the last person who tried it died, I just did my hamstring, 5 minutes into the f*cking game" Crooksy: "(brow deeply furrowed, he's reaching deep into the seemingly bottomless pit of his intellect, his eyes are firmly shut, suddenly, as if a light switch has been flicked on they open) Is it fair to say (thoughtful pause) that you looked a complete c*nt?" Robbie: "Yeah. Are you wearing f*cking sandals?" Crooksy: (now dressed in a white robe with loads of people wailing and chanting at his, sandaled feet. Speaks slowly dramatically pronouncing each word and pausing before saying the next) I - was - a - male - stripper - in - a - public - bar - I was - a - male - stripper - in - a - public - bar. Strip - for - me - babe - strip - for - you. I've heard your a bit of b*m bandit is that true" Neil: (wearing what looks like lipstick, speaks in a high pitched voice) How very dare you, I've never heard the likes, me dear no dear, I've never been so insulted, come on Gus we're leaving". With that Neil storms out, bringing his 'friend' with him. Crooksy: (now leaning forward like a slightly angered politician, saying names in a very determined way and also as if he's convinced he's the only person who knows them) The Dali Lama, David Blaine, Shoilin Monks, Marathon runners, people who do well on Celebrity Fit Club, these are all people renowned for their incredible self-discipline. You were playing Old Mods in a heated game what happened? Jordan: (voice high pitched in excitement, gets higher the longer he speaks) They were winning, yeah? They were trying to wind us up yeah? Our players were getting wound up, yeah? I just called on ancient methods of self-control yeah? So I told the players at half-time yeah? They want us to get involved with 'em yeah? Don't get involved with 'em, yeah? I can get involved with 'em, because I can control it yeah? Feel my pulse level yeah? feels like I'm barely alive yeah? Thats what I can do yeah? I can control it. Feel my forhead, yeah? It's over 30 degrees out here and feel that ice cold yeah, controlled. Put your head against my chest yeah? Barely beating yeah? I've been running about for 45 mins. I'm screeching in a high pitched voice and my heart is barely registering a beat yeah? Control yeah? They're looking over, yeah, they know me yeah, they know I'm in control. Then I noticed it had gone dark and it turns out the game had finished somtime earlier without me knowing it had re-started. The lads had come back to get a draw, but I was still in control (at this stage Matt's voice had got so high that all the sound crew had to quickly and looking in some distress discard their ear muffs). Is that Lenny McClean outside?" Suddenly Matt starts smiling and nodding and stretches out his hand and just marches straight through the wall in this manner. Yessss Crooksy, only you could get someone as controlled as Jords to open up in front of the cameras, YOU’RE the one in control. So much were we enjoying the interviews that we tried to arrange more, these didn't, as yet, come off. We tried to arrange one between Crooksy and Jamie but we couldn't get Jamie's head out of the fridge for long enough. Denis kept answering his mobile during his interview, even though mysteriously no one could hear it ring and Clubby spotted a ball just behind 2 of the camera men and came crashing through them to get to it, ruining lots of expensive equipment. But 3 cheers for man of the people Crooksy for his straighforward techniques getting so much out the players we love, here at Gardiner's world, as the great man himself might say, whilst clearly in the pose of ' The Thinker' "We'll meet again, don't know where don't when but I know we'll meet again some sunny day and until that day get out there AND SCORE A GOAL! Some interesting interviews. Who else would you like to see being interviewed? E-mail Trinity FC Online now with your views. |
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9 March 2006 The Trinity Book Club! Here on Gardiner’s World we are all avid readers of the Footballers autobiography. Granted you modern ones aren't as entertaining as one's from players who were at their peak in the glory years of football, the 70's, when English players didn't let the World Cup get in the way of telling us how they should have all got a 100 caps for England, playing in the same position. These days most players don't drink, they don't sh*g, they're not racist, they don't have hilarious stories about America; "they used to come to you and say 'HEY DON'T YOU HURT YOUR HEAD WHEN YOU DO A HEAD BALL", to which they inevitably had a witty reply, saying "depends how much I drank the night before" (before continuing) you see what they didn't realize is me Besty, Mooro, Ozzy, Bowlesy BLAH, BLAH, BLAH". Of course players now can't even bulldoze in some tedious anecdote about how they told Banksy he "should have caught that header offa Pele". These days footballers autobiographies tend to, rather boringly concentrate on players they worked with, managers they worked for, big games they played in and who they really liked and who they didn't and who takes a bloody good throw in. The 70's had Besty you see, and every book from someone from that era had a boring as f*ck anecdote to tell about how they were down the Old Kent Road and "Besty, right, Besty was with these two gorgeous blondes drinking champagne and I was sat in the corner on me own getting completely p*ssed so I could get the courage up to talk to a fat lass. Besty didn't know me" Such tales and witty exchanges; where the writer of the story always came out on top and despite displaying the wit and intelligence of Mick Toney's thicker brother, always seemed to have a quick riposte and an acidic put down at the ready; got us all here at Gardiner’s World feverish with excitement at the prospect of being the Ghost writer for some of Trinity's favourite sons. Not players like Dave Rogers, who would only be able to regale us with stories of how he slept in for one of his lectures, or Clubby who would be able to entertain us with stories of how he's a completely different person when he takes his glasses off and not the big stiff that everyone can see on his passport picture. Yes they will have good tales as 2 chatty, good humoured members of the team, but I'm talking old school, players who, despite being very much a part of the modern game, keep the spirit of the 70's bullsh*tters alive. We've got several ideas here for such novels and maybe some of the stories that may be contained within. Treat this as Trinity's Waterstones (that’s a bookshop Mark) and browse for your favourite. "When Push Comes To Shove" The Jimmy Yates story. This book will wow it's readers with first of all the transformation of tough guy Jimmy Yates, from a tough uncompromising full back, with a propensity for a mad, unnecessary, flick, who will chest anyone who dares to come closeish to his chest, to a tough uncompromising goalkeeper with a propensity for a mad unnecessary flick, who will chest anyone who dares come closeish to his chest. Yatesy's page turner will be discussed in pubs up and down the country because of it's inclusion of a list of Yatesy's favourite chest offs. " I remember their big centre forward had charged into me earlier, and I didn't forget. So when their little inoffensive winger accidentally ran into me as I outrageously stepped over a ball that was going out of play near the corner flag, THE RED MIST DESCENDED. Looking back I feel sorry for the lad now, especially as it turned out he was someone’s 9 year old son just getting the ball for me, but I marched towards him, chest puffed out to the full, you could see in his eyes he knew what was coming. I chested him so hard he almost took a backward step, then when he squared up to me I said "Oh yeah, yeah ,YEEEEAH, what you going to do". Lets just put it this way he didn't come anywhere my goal for the next 18 minutes. He later scored 3 and we lost 7-4, but word was out...". I think you'll agree exerts such as this guarantee it a place in Woolworth’s' up and down the country. We here at Gardiner’s World were also very interested to read that Wayne Rooney has just been signed up to a 4 Book deal, we all looked at each other here and said there is only one man who could carry that deal off at Trinity, yes Paul 'Macca' McIntyre. The first book, simply a book about Macca's childhood, would be called "Macca. The Asthma Years". Macca's heart-warming struggle in a one parent family, raised by his mad mum, would be an inspiring story to all sickly children whose parents wouldn't let their friends eat chips on their garden wall without making a big fuss. Here’s how a possible outtake might read: " I knew I wouldn't be going to school that day as I'd woke up with a wheeze, and there was a hint outside that it might rain. Mum was also out of Onions. But I so wanted to go in today of all days as my swim teacher had promised last week that I could go in the pool without arm bands and just use a float this time. Plus I was seriously jeopardising my chances of passing my A-levels later that year" Heart-warming stuff, but the struggles don't end there for Paul, his next book chronicles his late teens and early 20's and life away from home for the first time, called "Macca. A SPOT of Bother." Here's a piece you would more than likely hear reviewed on Newsnight: "Things were going just great, I'd joined a new football team, I'd had a night out and there was even a possibility of me making a friend, no more eating alone in the canteen, with the other students walking past going 'what did you get? I got the SPOTted d*ck' I KNEW WHAT THEY MEANT. As I say things were going well, when the phone call came...My mum rang me to tell me she'd had a dream and even as I dropped the phone and started to pack I could hear her saying 'No Paul, you didn't hear what I said, I dreamt I'd won the lottery, there really is no need to come home' I knew my place was by my mothers side. 9 days is a long time to be on your own" Such strong family ties and teenage difficulties will open Macca up to a whole new fan base. Next comes the tales of Macca's early days at Trinity, the glory of promotion, the humiliation of relegation, taking to the pitch with 8 men, all the stories of the great Trinity players he played with and the not so great and of course the finding of a kindred spirit. It's this lovely story that we've lifted from his imaginary book to let you digest here. "I'd always known my approach to defending was different, not for me the long clearance to safety, but the short one to the opposition so we could carry on defending. I was also a great believer in trying to con players on the opposition by standing 7-8 yards in front of them, with my back to my own goal, whilst they moved forwards and eventually passed me with the ball, as I shouted 'offside weferwee'. But my real favourite was piling into the back of an attacker as the ball went 20 odd yards over both our heads. I loved that. I never thought anyone else thought and played the same, until Martin Clubbs walked through the door. 6 minutes into his debut (we were losing 4-1) I said to myself "yes, here’s someone who is easily fooled by the flight of a toe bung too...we're gonna be just fine." Of course everyone remembers that hilarious scene in a Fulham match in the 70's when Rodney Marsh tries to tackle Besty, despite the fact, and here’s the rub, they're on the same team. Well Clubby and me do that most weeks, though no one seems to laugh at us." A warm hearted tale of a footballer who puts humour and friendship and a safe tap in touch, before glory. Many of the best autobiographies we've read here over the years have been written by winners, people with respect within the game, people who'll be listened too. That however hasn't stopped Matt Jordan releasing his story. Matt has of coursed dovetailed the jobs of skipper and manager for Trinity for 2 seasons now but has been an influential skipper for even longer. Matt's tough guy image isn't just an act on the footy field it extends to student bars up and down the streets of Leeds. Matt's book promises to be as explosive as his acceleration and lifts the lid off some Trinity management decisions AND some of their legendary, but until now kept in-house nights out. The working title for this masterpiece would be "YEAH, YEEEEAH, you a bit of a tough guy are you, show me your student ID and we can Dance" The cover shows a picture of a big, hard looking, tattooed, skin head and in the distance a little bald fella is heading towards him, eyes closed, knowing creepy smile and his hand outstretched. Here's how an outtake might read: " I was sat there relaxed taking it all in, I'd seen this sort of scenario 100's of times before. I clocked the room, I could see people were getting a little concerned by the 2 massive blokes with tats smashing peoples faces in for no reason, but I was too long in the tooth to fall for that old distraction tactic. I was simply going to laugh at all their jokes and buy them a drink and THEN take the REAL troublemakers outside for a 'chat'. That’s right they'd thought no one had noticed them, but I'd eye-spied (as we say darn sarf) the 2 of them, one dressed as Orville, the other as The Incredible Hulk, stuffing beer mats into their girlfriends bag. This was my muckers pub and even if it meant leaving my 2 new best mates on their own (which I was gutted about) and stepping over all the smashed up people on the floor, they were taking diabolical liberties and I wasn't standing for that. They didn't know what had hit em when I took em outside... and I actually did have a chat with em. When I paid for them to get into a club with me, they knew that their days of f*cking about in my mates pub were over...for that night." YIKES! Matt is the type of footballer we love he plays hard and he talks hard and we think for that reason his book would be a riveting read, filled with stories of handshakes, loud unnecessary laughter and nearly getting into fights, it'll be flying off the shelves faster than he flies into a tackle. There's little doubt that the Irish will always tell an empty room what great story tellers they are and we here at Gardiner’s World wouldn't dare enter into that room (for obvious reasons, "what’s in that ruck...BOOOM!!) and disagree. But we would gladly pick up a copy of Stevie Travers story from any bargain bucket (just under Dean Gaffney's Inside Story on the Club) and finally get round to levelling out that dodgy desk we've got. Brave Travers reckless disregard for his own safety would make for a fascinating book, where his on field scrapes would make even the most hardened reader (Birchy) wince. The book’s title would surely be "Playing Footy With My Stupid Face, GERTCHA". Here's one of our favourite imaginary outtakes. " To be sure Guv didn't I see the ball dere infront of the 'ol King Cole and sure all I had to do was head the dirty oul ting in te the empty 'Ouse Pet, when I caught sight of 'oul Mullers fecking hairy fisht and I thought feck scoring an 'Ol King Cole I'm going to throw me great big stupid 'oul State of Grace right at his Gorilla's in the Mist, so with a quick hop and a skip, 'Ol Riverdance styhile I splathered me great gormless mug against his Schindler's List and broke me feckin Fireman's. As I was walking over the Cork and Kerry mountains I spied a, Knees up Mother Brown, knees up Mother Brown, under the table you must go, when Irish eyes are smiling sure it's like a, ahhhh you won't stop talking why dont you give it a rest and Besty right, Besty was with these two gorgeous blondes...". The rest is some incomprehensible, but engaging blather about the Potato famine, the unbreakable spirit of the Underground sing-a-longs during the Blitz, families being forced out of their homes by the Black and Tans and Friday nights round the Joanna praising the Queen Mum. The only down side of the book is despite the dates shown underneath the photos they all look like they've been taken in the 1980's. Of course not all the interesting books that could be published, would be published by the 1st team squad. Now until recently we here at Gardiner’s World weren't even aware that there was such a thing as a 2nd team and we've certainly never spoke to any of them, but we've been reliably informed that there is and they know how to win on and off the field and apart from Lee, how to write. First book to take it's place in Texaco's 'free with every £5 spent on Petrol' offer will be Jonesy's much awaited secrets revealed book, "How to get Big Arms and a Big Gut - My Special Workout". This book will be a revelation to all young footballers who want to make an impression with a new team. Here are some sensational outtakes from this page turner, which is written in really deep print as whoever wrote it must be too powerful for conventional type; "I'd just been dropped off in my birds Porsche and I was seriously ready to lift a sh*t load of weights, do f*ck all sit ups and then have a load of pints and a couple of pies. I went into the gym and impressed everyone with me curls and not just the one I'd left in the toilet bowl after one of me pies, he he he. Anyway, I did about a 1000 curls on each arm and then I did one sit up. When will divvy managers realise that massive arms, not general fitness, are the most important things in football, I'm too f*cking advanced in me thinking for Niel, me. Mind you it's had an adverse effect on me w*nking as with arms this powerful I'd rip the f*cking thing off if I tried to have one now. Neil's a c*nt". Years ahead of his time is old Jonesy and that’s what makes it a wonderful read. He's not the only 2nd teamer to have poured it all out onto paper, the much loved and travelled Gus Martin has the potential to write a corking warts and all tale, under the title of "Flicks and Dicks. My 2 Favourite things in Footy". Gus's breathtaking account will leave even the most world weary journo's and sportsmen breathless, because of its insider knowledge, thanks to his Brazilian Football links and it's breathtakingness. Here's a bit we've just made up. "OOOOOOH, look at him in his tight shorts, I thought, I'll just let him run past me so I can get a good look at his bottom. I love footyball me all those lovely fella's running about in not very much, PLEEEEEASE. Tell you what as well I've got loads of insider knowledge me from travelling the big clubs of the country and teaching all their young kids to be annoying little back heeling pr*cks, who do 18 step overs before realising that they've gone off the pitch, and I'll tell you right now who to look out for, Wayne Rooney, yeah, when he leaves Everton he's gonna be huge, I'm getting huge just now thinking about it, NOOOOOO". Explosive stuff, Trinity's first out of the closet footballer revealing why he likes to, occasionally, turn up and play AND giving everyone an insider tip on the next big thing, WHERE CAN I GET A COPY? A similar book has also been penned by Trinity's 2nd team leader, Neil Higgins, entitled, "SHOUT AT HIM, and Tell Him to Give Me his Number, He's Gorgeous". As this is a family based web site we won't be able to print any exerts from this b*ttock gripping read because it's mostly about b*mming, which is a shame, cos it's a great tale written on lovely scented paper. Last but by no means least, another new arrival to Trinity has come up with a book that will no doubt be up there with anything Georgey Best could have produced, Mark Lumsden aka Plum in his soon to be best seller; "Mark Lumsden - An Autobiography". Don't start reading this one at night as it'll keep you up until the early hours, as, unfortunately because of the glue on the cover, it is unputdownable. Here is one of our favourite its for you to digest. "Match day. Got up at about 8.32am. Wandered down the stairs, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 ahhhh the hallway. Into the kitchen for me now, it's breakfast time. Think I'll have Cornflakes today with milk, make that cold milk. Just place that empty bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, save the missus a job ha, ha, ha. Right I think I'll just pop the telly on, see what’s on the old idiot box as I like to call it ha,ha,ha. Nothing much, ok then time to undo my trousers and get the old fella out and have a few strokes,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 ahhhhh, saved the missus another job. Typical Saturday morning" a mesmerising insight into the meticulous preparation of the modern footballer and one that is sure to be ritualistically followed by many an upcoming talent with their beady eye on 2nd Team football. We feel confident that it wouldn't be just Trinity fans who'd be greedily scooping up these incredible literary journeys, but football AND sport fans in general as each one offers a unique insight into, not just the demands of the game; the camaraderie involved, the amusing on/off field happenings; but into the inner most thoughts of these characters, who have, quite literally, opened themselves up like a book, without even knowing it (or consenting to it). Gardiner’s World promise to bring you more hot off the press books as they come to our attention, such as Mullers meticulous book on the importance of noticing absolutely everything that happens on the pitch, so that nothing goes beyond his analytical eye, entitled "Who Scored For Us Again?” Robbie's best seller, which reads like a book from the pen of young playboys like Best, Worthington, Marsh, entitled "F*cking Sl*gs". Tom's, quite frankly, life guide for the middle-class footballer, entitled "Play Up Chaps and Cut Out the Language". Here’s a a life changing exert "It was all a bit of a rush. I knew we were throwing a dinner party for 12 that evening, but our flight back from Brittany was delayed. I wasn't to worried though as, and if I know my guests they'll love it, as I'd picked up a rather nice vintage at a lovely delicatessen in Brittany, some Afghan Melon and some of THE most divine cheeses. Anne (providing she kept off the plonk so she could keep up the facade of being middle-class) was going to prepare the most wonderful piece of veal, I was very excited about the evening ahead as I'd just read Dovtoieski's 'The Idiot' and couldn't wait to belittle the working classes in the same way he did with my chums. Slowly the guests started to arrive, each one with a bottle, yummy, some super ones actually and Jim, dear dear Mullers, as a joke brought a bottle of Blue Nun, I loved the straight face he had when he gave me it, the price still on. Then I heard a terrible noise outside, I immediately thought, oh dear some coloureds have obviously got lost on their way to an all night rave. The air was pungent with expletives. To my enduring horror I looked out the window and I spotted Michael Toney and Mark Ryan waving bottles of White Lightning and Thunderbird and a copy of The Sport, they also had some big eared simpleton with them who I assumed must have come to tarmac the drive. "The lights Anne, the lights" I shouted, to late they were in. I knew then we couldn't show our faces to the neighbours ever again, so I got straight on the phone to Location, Location, Location and said "can you make me look a c*nt or your programme". Wonderful stuff Tom, a lovely look into the classier side of footballers lives. So remember next time your watch Trinity, there's a lot of stories out there on that pitch as well as skill, until next time get out there AND SCORE A PULITZER PRIZE WINNING GOAL So which Trinity player's autobiography would you like to read and why? E-mail Trinity FC Online now with your views. |
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22 January 2006 Sheikh Rattle and Rolled Gardiner's World would first of all like to apologise for it's enforced lay off. Our last article "A Captain’s Log" was so sensational that several people took legal proceedings and we had to give evidence to defend the good name of Trinity's posh "Dick Van Dyke type accent" leader Matthew Jordan. Eventually we had to admit to the whole thing being a load of b*llocks, except the bit about Neil being a big p*ff and we're not even sure if we put that in there. But if we did it's true, see you in court Neil. Court bent over in front of his boyfriend more like1 However that isn't the only reason why Gardiner’s world has been seemingly idle for the past couple of weeks, OH NO. We have embarked on a quite audacious 'Sting' that Paul Newman and Robert Redford would be more than a little proud of. We all know that the modern game is one of fake loyalty, greed, back stabbing, wheeler dealing and manipulation, but there are those we all hoped were above such things; die hard Leeds fan and midfield destroyer, Alan Smith; Ron 'Denis is lazy, and those other 2 don't know their names they all look alike to me and I brought em to this country in the first place, gis a job" Atkinson; Mick Toney (or Toady whichever you prefer, thank God Mark Ryan can't read) and of course dear ol 'Arry "twitch twitch, gotta get outta ere before, gertcha, that great big mincing woopsie, wotcher, Gus turns up, wiv his ol mucka Clifford, rabbit rabbit, to ave us running at 3 in the morning before losing to Plymouth" Redknapp. As we have discussed in this column before though, our heroes have a habit of letting us down. These aforementioned names are bywords for loyalty in an increasingly mercenary game and one name that could always be safely tucked in along side them without fear of him ever letting his teammates, colleagues, friends, fans or club down, and that name is of course Jim 'Mullers' Mullowney, unfortunately we have now reason to believe that Mullers maybe better known as 'Bullers(hit)' For many of you clinging to the ever fading hope that football still had some people within it's ranks that were reliable and involved only because of their love of the game and their undying loyalty to their club and it's supporters, people who wear old fashioned values like integrity, honesty, loyalty, friendship and hardwork; proudly as a badge on their p*ffed out chests and frown upon modern traits like; disloyalty, greed, dishonesty, transientsy; as a sad reflection of less cohesive age, this latest story maybe a bridge to far and your love affair with the beautiful, but damaged game, maybe over, I sincerely hope not. We had got wind of the possibility that the seemingly incorruptible Mullers is, maybe, well, corruptible. This news came from a disgruntled defender who, until recently, had felt hard done by in his lack of 90 minute opportunities afforded him by the austere Mullers. Whilst initially never doubting this decision was purely a footballing one and that however misguided he might feel Mullers was in his team selections, he never questioned his integrity. This all changed however when he was overheard on New Years eve boasting to impress girls about how many teams would love to have him in charge of them and would PAY TOP WACK for his excellent services, the conversation usually ended with "it's not just football clubs who'd pay top wack for my services..." Mullers went home alone. Intrigued by this news, Gardiner's World sprung into action and started thinking of elaborate ways that we here at Gardiner's World could trick the street wise, always cautious Mullowney into opening up and revealing his inner most thoughts. Eventually we thought of the previously unthought of Hannibalesque disguise and some booze to loosen those notoriously tight lips. We knew the man to pull this off for us was the master of disguise, the aforementioned defender who we can't name for legal reasons, but will be from here on in known as 'Napoleon'. Knowing that the disguise would have to be of the very highest quality if we were to fool the ever-perceptive Mullers. So we gave 'Napolean' a big wig to wear and a different shirt and told him to act like a big b*nder. After watching several hours of Neil mincing around, he was ready to pull off the role, and that wasn't all he pulled off our video revealed, of being a big p*fter who was going to get Mullers to 'fess up. Knowing how these 'Stings' go we knew we had to offer Mullers something enticing and extravagant, to lure him in. Gardiner’s World budgeted this story like no other and we can honestly say it was worth every penny. 'Napoleon' agreed to meet Mullers at Becketts Bank, Leeds, under the misguided knowledge that 'Napoleon' was a big q*een, with a soft spot for shaven headed hunks, who had an attractive footballing offer to make. After the initial worry that Mullers had seen through the disguise of Napoleon because of our inability, despite several hours in make up, to cover up his spots, the meeting was underway. Once the 3 for the price of 2 Barcadi Breezers started to flow so Mullowney’s thoughts on Trinity's players and his own future followed. His views will shock and offend many of you and will certainly defend all of you, private conversations were revealed and players backgrounds, attitude and happiness with the club were questioned, here is the transcript, N will represent Napoleons and M, the traitorous ba*tard Mullers. N: " I believe that Simon used to play in goal for you, he was a big boy, oooooooh, but he's been replaced by Yatesy, oooooh, and he's a huge boy" M: "Simon was our keeper yes, but he was sh*t so Bentley, the former manager, replaced him with Yatesy, cos he was being sh*t at left-back at the time. Yatesy comes from Manchester" SHEIKH NUMBER 1. Mullers with a complete disregard for his goalkeepers right to keep his birthplace secret, revealed where he was born to a complete stranger, dressed as a p*ff. Next to be scrutinised was popular Trinity player Martin Clubbs. N: "ooooooooh what do you think of Martin Clubbs then, he's just become a Dad hasn't he (at this point Napoleon purses his lips and and camply gestures towards his groin) proves everything is in working order. M: "Yes that’s right he has just become a dad. We usually call him Clubby you know. I think he once collapsed in a nightclub because he was out past 10.45pm" SHEIKH NUMBER 2: Mullers shamelessly reveals changing room nicknames and Clubby's suspect ability to last until last orders on a night out, just 'cos some fake b*nder was giving him the eye. Next to be scrutinised was Trinity rock Tom Priestley. N: "Tom ooooooh he's a nice boy isn't he, pity about that gobby scouser he landed himself with, I certainly wouldn't mind playing Lilly Savage for him, oooooh." M: "Ha ha, yes very good banter. Tom is quite posh, but that helped him come across as a likeable snob on Location Location Location. He's a good player and good in the air, I'm sure if I was to move teams he would gladly go back on Location Location Location again so he didn't have to pay Estate Agents fees and move with me. He's from Derby you know" SHEIKH NUMBER 3: Mullers rubs Tom's face in the piece of sh*t that was his TV career and then proceeds to slag the big posh tw*t off by describing him as "good in the air". With no hint of remorse he then goes onto reveal personal details about his birthplace and BOASTS that Tom would follow him wherever and he USED Location Location Location to get out of paying agent fees. We here at Gardiner’s World are sure that Tom will have something polite, but poshly firm to say to Mullers next time he sees him, like "I didn't realise you drank in Becketts Bank". Next up Trinity stalwart, Macca. N: " oooooooh, Macca he's one of your best players he is and he's ever so hunky, in his ever tightening shirt, I wish he was in the starting line up every week (Napoleon playfully slaps Mullers on the arm) and quite a few of my friends do if you know what I mean (Napoleon winks)" M: " Christ I can't believe you like that spotty c*nt, he's a divvy. If he's not running into Clubby for no reason, he's booting it at some passing pedestrian, or heading it past Yatesy. The sooner he fu*ks off to his kennels the better" At this point our reporter, who was now sweating quite profusely, looked visibly upset and shaken, so he made his excuses to go to the toilet and compose himself. This part of the interview was scandal free as Macca seemed to be spared Mullowney's scandal ridden tongue. Our reporter returned, luckily Mullers was starting to get quite inebriated and hadn't noticed our undercover reporters make up was running around the eyes. N: " oooooh how about that Dave Rogers then, I like em young and hairless AND hollow chested" M: "Who?" SHEIKH NUMBER 4. Mullers can't even be bothered to remember one of his own players, Dan Ragers will be rightly peeved. Next, Mark Ryan N: "ooooh what about that Mark Ryan, I like em all thin and wiry, don't you? It's even better when they're not to bright, I can think of a lot more things to do with him than talk (another playful slap on the arm for Mullers)" M: "Yes he is very thin isn't he, but that seems to help his stamina, which is very high (N: "ooooh, I bet he has"). As for him being thick I wouldn't know too much about that but his parents are Irish" SHEIKH NUMBER 5. Mullers not only suggests to a q*eer that one of his team has got lots of stamina, but he also blames his astonishingly low intelligence on the fact that his parents are Irish. Bad move Mullers, once the patriotic Micks get hold of the internet you will be inundated with illiterate ramblings about the potato famine. Next up Matt Jordan. N: " Oooooh, I like him he's a bit hunky and aggressive, I tell you what I'd like to hear those unnecessary grunts, when he goes up for a header, in a different environment, eh, no shush your face, ooooh you are awful. I like the way that despite the fact that his parents spent a load of money on his education in Slough, he still acts like a real tough cockerneeey, he reminds me of Ross Kemp in Extras, he does, and I tell you what Mullers I'd, ahm, GRANT him permission to do anything he wanted, ooooooh, stop it you (harder playful slap)" M: "Ha ha yes very g |