dermott

Only in your mind. We join a long list of European clubs who have already given them a home away from their nightmare home.

Relegated. Oops. Sorry. Thought this was the Coventry forum.

Can’t wait to see Hull.

Good championship team -v- PL winners. Is anyone surprised?

Sigh. Real music. The Jam can f**k right off.

5 point penalty for the early excuse.

Next thing you’ll be denying we’re a Golden Generation of posters.

A lot of huffing and puffing thus far.

So much for sweet nothings.

The physicality thing bothers me too.

Villa's sales are largely related to their financial position. They need to get their financial house in order before they start spending. Their fundamental problem is marketing, they've neglected areas like commercial partners, revenue beyond prize money and player sales.

Their on-field success has actually hurt them financially. Player purchases, high wages (91% of club income), have outstripped their pretty average commercial income relative to the clubs around them.

In short, shrewd financial management, prize money, massively expanded commercial sponsorships, match day income. 2022–2023: £465m 2023-2024: £609m 2024-2025: £690m 2025-2026: estimated £812m

Arsenal earned £300m+ from the PL title and CL exploits last season alone.

POQ.

R.I.P. TV and film director John Irvin whose direction of the BBC's Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy helped to set new standards in adaptation for television. Working from a script by Arthur Hopcraft - Le Carre had tried to adapt it but gave up, saying it was like trying to unroll a jam roly-poly - he had the courage to realise the novel's density, complications, twists and turns. Blink and miss something? Rewind a bit. It remains, in my mind, the finest TV adaptation. He directed some very good features but Tinker Tailor stands apart.

The Small Faces finished up primarily a studio band. You couldn’t reproduce Itchycoo Park on stage. Marriott had his demons. They caught up with him.

If Pedro bungs his ankle in the warmup, we’re all f**ked.

Heathen. Kartoffelpuffer.

Chelsea 3-1. Pedro on 9 minutes.

Officially marking the end of real music. It was all downhill thereafter. They didn't exist as a band. Studio musos made the music, bands were roped in to call themselves Ohio Express for touring.

We knew that.

Saw them in Melbourne in 1968 supported by the Small Faces. Splendiferous. The Small Faces were sh*t. Marriott was so drunk he could hardly stand up. Come the guitar smashing at the end, Moon kicked over the drum kit and hurled his sticks like javelins into the audience. Health & Safety. My mate stuck his paw in the air and caught one. Wouldn't give it to me. c**t.

Decent idea in theory that fails to take into account the multitude of one-eyed fans who see black when it's white and this will only let them double down. Still, they're trying for transparency.

Bah. Stupid software.