David Ngog

Growing up I always had a favourite footballer. When I got my Panini sticker album in the spring of 1989, the beaming smile of John Barnes shone out of one of my first packets and Liverpool and Barnes were adopted as my team and player of choice. Barnes' brilliance seems to be forgotten thing with his portly belly, inability to be a lucid pundit and even greater inability to manage a football team now being what he is known for. But, in the late 80s when Liverpool were the greatest team in Britain, Barnes was the greatest player in Britain. Everything Liverpool did went through Barnes in the same way everything Manchester United did went for Ronaldo a couple of seasons back.

After injury, weight-gain and retirement Robbie Fowler became my new favourite. His five goal haul against Fulham early in his career grabbed my attention and imagination. This was followed by an incredible four and half minute hat-trick against Arsenal; I was listening to the game on my personal stereo on a family car journey to Devon and my dad refused to believe my repeated claims that Robbie had scored again. Sadly, Robbie went much the same way as Barnes with injury and weight-gain hampering his ability to thrill the crowds. I still follow his progress: he made his debut for Australian A-League side Perth Glory on Friday, but he failed to find the net in a 3-3 draw and I fear the magic of Fowler is something that rarely flickers any longer.

Last season was the first season I didn't have a favourite player playing in England. I had to rely on early Saturday morning internet sessions following Fowler's progress and that is no way to your life. So, this season I have chosen a new favourite player: David Ngog. He fits the bill perfectly: his first name begins with D - in fact he shares my first name; he plays for Liverpool, and he's a striker, so the glory days are sure to come. On Sunday 23rd of May I wrote 'Davids: An Ode to England Internationals Called David in the Last Twenty Years'. There were many greats: Beckham, Seaman, Platt, James and er... Batty. The poem ended with a line questioning whether he (David James) could, "be the second David to grasp the Jules Rimet in his paws". The World Cup ended horribly and sourly for England and the giant-haired stopper got his fingers nowhere near the World Cup, but whilst it was a disaster for this David, it was actually a triumph for Davids in general as rather than one David joining Trezeguet in the list of Davids to have won the World Cup, two did: David Villa and David Silva. If this is not proof that it is the year for Davids to walk onto football pitches with their heads held high, then what is? David Villa outshone his striking partner Fernando Torres by a considerable margin and it is my belief that Ngog will do exactly that for Liverpool this season. Would anyone like a wager that Ngog will outscore the once-mighty El Nino? Beware, Ngog is already 3-0 up having scored three in two games against Europa opponents Rabotnicki.

This wonderful news for footballing Davids will gladden the hearts of the other eleven Davids plying their trade in the Premiership: Dunn and Hoilett (Blackburn Rovers), Elm and Stockdale (Fulham), Kitson (Stoke), Healy and Meyler (Sunderland), Bentley (Spurs), Edwards and Jones (Wolves) and Silva (Man City), but more than that it gladdens my heart as I too will return to regular footballing action this year. My team CCK (Church of Christ King) have only rarely called on my services of late for the main reason that I'm not really as good as most of the other players, but this year a second team has been launched and I anticipate far more action. In fact I would go as far as to say that I anticipate scoring more goals than Fernando Torres myself this season. You might think that sounds like a foolish boast from someone who has never scored more than six goals in a season and you would probably be right, but my fierce fervour for success of Davids taking the field of play knows nothing of the bounds of realism. Let's bring back the days when a team of Davids would have Beckham and Ginola supplying wonderful balls onto the head of Hirst; when a moustachioed Seaman would keep the goal safe from players with inferior names; when the Everton trio of Watson, Unsworth and Weir would crush opponents' hearts between their bare teeth. David Ngog, Davids everywhere, your time has come.

Dr Zeuss

My wife Helen went to a car boot sale this morning and returned with a miniature table and chair set, a toy aeroplane, a plastic wheelbarrow and a fistful of books including Dr Zeuss' debut work, The Cat in the Hat, released an incredible 53 years ago. Reading it to a book-hungry Jarvis has inspired me to imitate his work and create my own fast-paced rhyming narrative about an animal in an item of clothing. Protagonist options include the Macaque in the Anorak, the Fly in the Tie, the Rat in the Cravat, but I have settled for the Goat in the Coat.

Here goes:

The evening arrived and

The sun said goodbye.

"It's bedtime," was heard as

The moon rose in the sky.

The news was unwelcome;

Wide-eyed Ned wore a frown.

Jarvis hid his dismay

But he still felt quite down.

Once tucked up in bed,

The lights were turned out.

Misery flooded the room;

Fun was no longer about.

A dull night of nothing

Was all that lay ahead.

As the boys lay there

Sleepless bored and in bed.

Then rat-a-tat-tat

Was heard at the door.

Were they dreaming?

No, this was real, for sure.

Then in burst a goat

Wearing a crimson fur coat;

Clearing his voice

He uttered from his throat,

"I'm fantastically brilliant

I'm the Goat in the Coat,

I'm the best in the business,

Though I don't like to gloat.

I'm here to take you

For a night on a boat

Battling sea monsters

While bobbing along afloat."

Ned looked at Jarvis

And Jarvis looked at Ned.

Indecision was brief;

They jumped out of bed.

The Goat in the Coat

Had a strong notion

That nights weren't for sleep -

He led them to the ocean

Where they jumped in the boat

And sailed out to sea.

This was probably wreckless

I'm sure you'll agree.

No health and safety would let

Two toddlers in a boat

In the middle of the channel,

Their guardian, a goat.

The Goat in a Coat said,

"There's a battle to fight"

Ned looked a bit nervous.

The words gave Jar a fright.

Then out of the water

A scaly green monster rose.

It had deadly sharp claws

And shot bullets from its nose.

The twins were shocked

And momentarily froze.

The Goat in the Coat

Gave Jarvis an spear.

And Ned got an axe

He said, "There's nothing to fear".

Ned hacked at the monster's

Gargantuan neck.

Jarvis threw the spear skywards

From the tiny deck.

While the monster's flailing limbs

Threatened a wreck.

The spear hurtled up

Then hung in the sky

Then rushed downwards

Into the monster's eye.

Ned spotted his chance

And sent the axe through

The last few neck tendons.

The blood that spurted was blue.

Victory was theirs.

The Goat gave a cheer

And then said, "Oh no,

Morning is near".

He grabbed the oars

And paddled like crazy.

The sky was lightening,

Turning greyish and hazy.

The Goat in the Coat

Rushed the boys home

And said, "I'll be back

After my holiday in Rome."

And as the goat fled

With a clickety-clack

Mum and Dad arose

From their slumbersome sack.

"Good morning," Mum said

"Have you boys slept well?"

They looked at each other

And knew they never would tell.

Destiny

Destiny, hold my hand, protect me from this world

And fly me to a past not far away

Where fireflies and the stars in the sky

Coax the shadows back to let

You concentrate on your neverthought.

Funny what you find in your mixed up mind

At two o'clock by the fountain down the road.

Today it all feels fine, but

Today will always be tomorrow

And I love you all the same.

I complied this poem from ten lines from ten songs from ten of my favourite bands. I am partially happy with it. Being constricted to other people's words is both freeing and inhibiting at the same time. If I had limitless time, this could make for an interesting project, but I will leave it at that for now. How many bands and songs do you recognise? They are all from songs released between 1993-2003, the era when CDs sponged by wallet dry.

Dinner

I was struggling to see what direction I could take the subject of dinner in. My dinner times are made up of stuffing food quickly into my face while saying: "Ned/Jarvis, throwing spaghetti at the windows is not a good way to show appreciation to the chef". My helpful advice is giggled at and I am forced into confiscating bowls until the game of spaghetti lasso has quelled.

This repetitive dinner time one-way conversation is not everyone's dinner time experience, so tonight I texted ten of my friends asking them the simple question, "What did you have for dinner?" Some of my friends I hadn't seen or spoken to in quite a while (over a year in some cases) and they may have been perplexed by the question. The text was sent an hour ago and so far six have responded. This is how:

Person One:

Them: Tomato soup. Watching the Norwich game? Me and Molly are there.

Me: I'm watching Question of Sport at the moment, but I might flick over later. I'm at Leicester vs Macclesfield on Wednesday.

Person Two:

Them: Diced donkey and doughnuts. Not really, curry I believe, but we haven't had it yet.

Person Three:

Them: A carvery roast........ [that is an excessive amount of dottage; you should really stick to three dots] Why?

Me: Tasty. Just a little survey I am doing for the purpose of writing a blog entry. I'm back on Thursday if you still have the balls [some footballs that he has offered to donate to my football team].

Them: Cool, yes mate I do still have the balls. Gimme a shout when ya free.

Person Four:

Them: Hmmm, I'm guessing you didn't mean to send that to me, but if you're interested I had pizza :)

Them [again]: Ah no, I get it, things beginning with d :) how's things anyway.

Me: Tres good Signor John. We should have a beer soon. I'm away at the moment, but return on Thursday.

Them: Sounds like a plan, it's been a year since our last one. Maybe you guys could come round one night for curry.

Me: Give us a date when you're up for it and we'll see if we can get a sitter.

Them: Ok cool, will have a chat with the missus and get back to you :)

Person Five:

Them: Erm... [much more appropriate dottage] Spaghetti and meatballs. You?

Me: Pasta carbonara

Them: Am I missing something?

Me: No

Them: That's alright then.

Person Six:

Them: Why do you want 2 know buddy? Pizza! What did you have?

Me: Pasta carbonara. I'm just taking an interest in your life.

Them: Thx bro. I just sat on da loo and past da pizza if you want 2 know more about my life! Hope you having a good time.

Me: My real reason is for a blog entry. I'm going to include your text if that is okay but I'll keep you anonymous.

Them: Weird!

A range of meals were had and pizza was the only replica. Meals came from a range of cultures: three Italian, one Indian, one British and one Peruvian (apparently that's where tomato soup originated). What was more interesting though was the range of ways in which people responded. Two guessed at my intentions and three questioned my intentions. Only one person could just take the question at face value and leave it at that and that should be commended. Do we have to have a reason to ask each other fairly meaningless questions? I also enjoyed the opportunity people took to give me extra information such as what they were doing that evening although I didn't really need to know about someone's toileting. The invitation to dinner was also a rather pleasant by-product of the initial text. This sharing of information with each other is, in my opinion, a beautiful and wonderful thing. Details, seemingly irrelevant, help me to feel slightly closer to people and this moment on digital text exchange has been a mildly enriching experience.

Dave Gorman

I sat down the other night to watch 'Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure'. A googlewhack is two words that when put into Google produce just one result. 'Atherall ignoramus' is a googlewhack because it produces just one result: a website giving the Victorian history of Bedford. Under Gorman's rules this would in fact not count because Atherall is not in the Google dictionary, but you get the idea. Gorman's task, administered to him by another man called Dave Gorman who he met when he was trying to find lots of people with the same name as him, is to find two googlewhack websites and contact the creators of these website who he then visits. The visitee then has to find two googlewhacks of their own and Dave contacts the the new googlewhacks and they are set the same task. Completion of the task comes when he has met and visited ten consecutive googlewhacks in the same chain before he turns 32.

The show tells the story of whether he was successful in his strange quest. I enjoyed the show, not because it was funny although it sometimes was, but because the odd quest captured my imagination. My quest to find a live badger and my following of the letter D through the World Cup were similarly obsessive oddities. Tim De Marco, reader of this blog, commented that yesterday's decision analysis was a Gormanesque thing to do, little-knowing that the night before I had been watched the bearded fellow perform his show, and even though the idea had formed pre-watching I guess the watching propelled me more energetically towards my task.

I had a look at his blog before penning my own and found that Gorman is currently presenting darts for Bravo. He has also been attempting to hone his own darting ability and has earned himself the darts name: Dave "The Badger" Gorman. He has his own shirt (pictured) which I am very jealous of. Apparently the badger nickname comes not from an affection for badgers, but for a similarity in darting ability between Gorman and the striped mammals. Surely very few animals, other than perhaps the orangutan, are any good at darts. I may locate my own set of darts, throw them until my skill levels match the days when I was jobless and able to spend hours lobbing the tiny spears and then purchase for myself a furry orange shirt with Dave "The Orangutan" Atherall emblazoned across the back. The word "may" is perhaps slightly misleading in the previous sentence.

I've just noticed that my quoting of the googlewhack 'Atherall ignoramus' has made it no longer a googlewhack. If you type 'Atherall ignoramus' into Google, you also get this website and that makes me look like a bit of an ignoramus.

Decisions

I have been on a brief sojourn in Frome of late before moving onto Leicester earlier today. Whilst in Frome I went to visit the Wriglesworths: Nathan, Helen and Anna, who were staying in nearby Bath. We spent the afternoon chatting - Nathan and I squeezed in as much football conversation as we legitimately could - and one of the (non-football related) topics that came up was decisions. It was in light of this blog that our conversation veered that way. We wondered how many decisions were made in a day and Nathan confessed that he had made the decision to allow himself to get wet by walking under the overhanging dripping bushes and not pushing me into the road to relieve him of this nuisance. I questioned whether this really was a decision as there was no real likelihood of him actually pushing me into the road; decisions were surely choices between two legitimate choices of action. I had actually chosen to walk on the left of him, which just happened to be drier, as my left ear was partially blocked and I wanted to give him my right ear so that I didn't mishear him: that is surely a more legitimate decision. We got onto the subject of how many decisions in a day we make that are selfish in comparison to selfless and he told me an anecdote about someone who always took the biggest slice of cake and I realised that I often shamefully do that.

At the end of the discussion I decided that I would commit a day to analysing my own decisions and see what information I could garner from such a task, so today I kept a piece of paper in my pocket and noted down every legitimate conscious decision I made. I ignored illegitimate decisions such as the fact that I chose not to murder anyone, run through the streets naked or make a guitar out of a giraffe's intestines: these are courses of action that I would never have taken. I obviously missed lots out and had to be careful not to drive my wife Helen insane by producing a scrappy piece of paper every thirty seconds.

The eventual crumpled list had 75 decisions I had throughout the day. I won't share them all, but here are a few highlights:

Decision 2: To change Ned's nappy or to leave it to Helen.

Decision 7: To apply wax to my hair or to leave it au naturel.

Decision 16: To investigate the pooey manure smell coming from the boot of my car or not to bother.

Decision 25: To wipe my hands on my jeans after washing them or to use the Dyson Airblade available in the public toilet.

Decision 35, 36, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 45, 46 and 47: To pick up Jarvis' soft toy bear that he had thrown from his car seat and then moaned about not having or to leave it lying on the floor.

Decision 45: To choose a CD of my own choice to play on the car journey or to allow Helen to choose the CD.

Decision 59 and 70: To gamble on no one entering while I went to the toilet at my in-laws or to go and find the key so as to ensure I was uninterrupted.

Decision 63: To change channel from the Welsh language channel at my in-laws' house or to leave it on.

As you can see from this selection I had a very complicated day. My analytical approach is to investigate whether my decisions were largely selfish or selfless. My unbiased analysis reckons that 27 of my decisions were neither (things like what t-shirt to wear), 15 were selfish (such as reading the paper rather than playing with my boys) and 33 were selfless (such as changing a catastrophe of a nappy). However, 19 of these selfless acts were the repetitive task of picking up toys that the boys kept throwing to the floor whilst sitting in their car seats and although the awkward position that I had to force my back into to retrieve the soft toy bear and tiger was mildly uncomfortable, essentially this was a sort of selfish decision because if I had not picked them up I would have had two screaming one year olds in the back seat of the car on a three hour journey and that would have been considerably worse, so I shall discount these from my list leaving me with just 14 selfless acts and to be honest these could probably be analysed similarly. So, my findings say that I was selfish 52% of the time today which I guess is not too bad although it is a frustratingly narrow defeat - decision 74 to finish the bottle of wine rather than giving it to someone else proved costly.

However, I have been too simplistic I fear because many of my decisions had a range of motives and many of my selfless decisions were partially influenced by the fact that I knew I was going to be accountable for my decisions to people who read my ramblings. For instance, decision 34 was to get Helen to take over the driving which was a largely selfish decision, but I could feel my eyes grappling for closure and the selfish decision was also a safe, sensible and in some ways selfless decision at the same time. Likewise, selfish decision 29 to quaff the Liquorice Allsorts like they were going dangerously out of date within five minutes was partially motivated by a desire to stay alert whilst in control of a vehicle - that doesn't sound so believable does it.

My study though was not useless. It was useful, if slightly annoying, to weigh up my decisions in this way because it made me examine the habitual way in which I make decisions and helped me to see selfishness in myself that I was pretty much unaware of. It was also interesting to think about the way a family makes decisions and how a lot of decisions are made for you and how a lot of the decisions you make affect more than just yourself. Thousands of decisions are made each day - I decided which car to overtake on the motorway, which child to pick up first, which bit of my dinner to leave till last and to apply a microscope to each of these would leave little time for enjoying the random direction life can often take you in, but I guess each day has a few key decisions which shape the mood and tone of the day and getting them a little bit more right can only be a good thing. I won't do this again, but I'm kind of glad that I did do it once.

Derivation

Derivation in terms of linguistics is the process by which new words are formed from a root word. For example slowness, slowly, slowed and slowing are all derivatives (derived from) the word 'slow'. An affix (an extra bit) is added to the word to change the tense, mood, gender etcetera of the word. Affixes can be prefixes (bits at the beginning of the word, e.g agree to disagree), suffixes (bits at the end of the word, e.g jump to jumping) or infixes (bits in the middle of words - these are rare in English and exist mainly in slang, e.g saxophone to saxomaphone). Derivation can also occur without a change in the actual word - for example badger (noun: black and white ultra-cool animal) has an unchanging derivative: badger (verb: to repeatedly ask for something in an annoying way). In this case, it is said that a null morpheme is affixed to the root word.

Mrs Badger badgered Mr Badger about late-night badge-collecting. Badger has four derivatives (badger (verb), badgers, badgered, badgering). Surely it is time that other animals get the treatment that badgers have been so fortunate to receive and have null morphemes affixed to them. Here are some suggestions:

Crocodile (verb): to bite someone's lips when kissing.

Koala (verb): To eat without anyone else noticing.

Penguin (verb): To be the first person to wear shorts at the merest hint of sunshine.

Raccoon (adjective): to look beautiful, but smell like a dustbin.

Here they are in action:

Ralph and Cecilia's relationship seemed to be going well. Cecilia didn't mind the fact that Ralph raccooned - no one could tell in photos and Ralph ignored the fact that Cecilia crocodiled him when he only wanted a quick peck as he walked out the door. However, things took a turn for the worse when they went out for dinner on a cold January night. Ralph penguined out the door and Cecilia bit her lip, keeping silent her desire that Ralph would dress a little more smartly for the occasion. When dinner was served Cecilia koalaed it down in a literal blink of Ralph's eye and Ralph had the embarrassment of eating alone while Cecilia glanced every thirty seconds at her watch. When they got home, they were finally frank about the way they felt about each other's odd habits and that was the last conversation they ever had.