Beef Bagel

Monday passed and not a peep from The Bagel regarding the weekend’s action. Strange? Well, yes and no. Mostly yes but enough no for me to realise that I have a problem. I haven’t been dealing with my issues and no place is it clearer than right here and right now. The Bagel has ignored our frustrating draw against Watford. To consider this game would be a danger to myself, a danger to those about me and most likely a danger to my keyboard and any breakables in general but unleash the beast I must and there is no way more eloquent, with which I can express my feelings than with this:

(more…)

‘They’re them but they think they’re us, they’re them but they think they’re us!’

What do Aston Villa think they’re playing at? Not content with dirtying up Jermain Defoe with their greasy, Brummie fingers, they’re having a go at our other small striker now. Martin O’Neill is apparently a big fan of Robbie Keane and has made him his number one transfer target for January to the tune of £5m or £6m depending upon what you read. The big question The Bagel poses here is, if O’Neill is such a big fan, why did he turn to Keano after failing to land Defoe? Why not go for Robbie straight away?

(more…)

‘What’s the URL of your blog again?’

‘Um,’ my brain is rattling through the many, many posts The Bagel’s written since it all began. There’s too many, there’s too much. I buy myself a little time, ‘I sent it to you already.’ Did I? I think I did but I’m hoping I didn’t. It’s not so much the bagel news and the transfers, it’s the reports that have got my mind racing, the match day mornings, the nights before, the darker side of The Bagel. What have I said? What am I going to say? What will I say in tonight’s report? How can I not start here? I have to start here. The Bagel never lies but The Bagel likes this one. She’s interesting, she’s attractive but she already knows his secret. She knows the Clark Kent to his Superman and perhaps soon his kryptonite too. It’s a double edged sword. I want her to read it, I want her to know but how will she react to the darker elements, the attitude, the lust, the ladies, the kebabs and the dangerous obsession with a certain football team? I take a breath. I relax. Know The Bagel, know his beef.

(more…)

I was going to bring you the report from last night’s game but I’ve had to stop mid way through. I’m laughing too hard to type for any kind of sustained period of time and I have to tell you the best news of the day in case you don’t know.

(more…)

The Bagel is rather excited. I’ve been trawling through this weeks articles, e-mails and epistles and damn it, I just like what I’m reading. Five without defeat, still in all cups, players on their way back from injury, a couple of transfer stories and some of our boys talking a good talk. This combined with a trip this evening to MK Plastics (we’ll be showing them who the Dons are) and well, frankly, I’m hard. I’m harder than a 3 day old crusty baguette. I’m as hard as marking Aaron Lennon. I’m hard like learning Hungarian is hard, like marble in a church, like Chuck Norris. You get the picture? No, harder. Yep that’s it.

(more…)

Urrrgh. Cold. Damp. My foot recoils from the floor in horror. Matter has stuck to its arch and I wave it around searching for somewhere to put it. My face screwed up, I perform some sort of ungainly balance as I reach for the wall with my opposite hand for my fingers to crawl their way along. They find what they’re looking for and my eyes shut for a second or two as the spotlights burn brightly into my brain. Still teetering on one leg, I unscrew one lid and upturn my foot to meet its gaze. A strange, green flecked, milky substance drips down my sole in a pattern not unlike the Ganges delta with a chunk of red onion as its Himalayan source.

(more…)

I am one angry Bagel today and I’m getting straight to the point. Richard Caborn, sports minister is getting involved in matters that do not concern him but as a policeman by trade, this does not surprise me one little bit. Dick, is urging the FA to get examine the video evidence of Jermain Defoe’s bite on Javier Mascherano in yesterday’s game.

(more…)

‘Customers should be aware that the last shirt printed will be at 5.00pm.’

It’s already 5.15. I’ve been here for twenty minutes and already looked round the whole store twice, maybe more. My meanderings have ceased to have any purpose. I’m not even looking at the clothes or the accessories, the array of mouse mats, bed linen, notebooks, baby bibs, beakers, bar mitzvah cards, pint glasses, dvd’s and videos of the glory, glory days, iPod covers, dog coats, playing cards, key rings, wallets, and a collection of sovereign rings that even Del Boy would be embarrassed to wear. I’m not even changing aisles any more. I’m just pacing up and down trying to see how slow I can walk. I look up as I realise I’m pigeon stepping like a kid in a playground.

(more…)

I haven’t had the privilege, no the joy, of taking the tube today. You may be detecting some sarcasm here but in fact you would be wrong. I can only imagine how many newspapers of all shapes and sizes are littering the carriages of old London town as The Bagel writes. How many beautiful, beautiful pictures adorn the vomit soaked upholstery? How many joyous headlines in 78 point font spilling out onto every platform, throwing themselves at our retina? Even the filthy London Lite and their useless reporters cannot fail to show us the high praise, which is rightly ours today.

(more…)

Did you go through yesterday with an odd craving, an itch you couldn’t scratch? Were you caught red handed by you partner or flat mate by the light of a midnight refrigerator with crumbs around you mouth and little more to say in your defence than noises similar to the mumblings of Robbie Keane?

(more…)