Podcasts

MFX134 – I Love You Shame.

 

Join your heroes Duckman and Sir Ian Trumps as they talking pro wrestling, pop culture and everything in between.  On the show this week…

The lads mark out over so much ridiculous stuff this week.  The Adam Johnson trial leads them to select a football team of famous sex offenders.  Yep, it’s one of THOSE shows.

There’s tons of pro wrestling chat about Daniel Bryan’s retirement, concussions in sport and the future of combat/contact sports.  Sometimes MFX get serious and this is one of those times.

Don’t worry, the laughs come back as the lads talk Titus O’Neil getting on the wrong side of Vince – loads of crazy Vince this week.  They talk Wade Barrett’s future and Rybitch chimes in with his take on the situation and explains why it’s so difficult for him to get the right pants on RAW.

The lads have two matches for MFX Alternative Audio this week.  So be sure to click the links and listen along as they commentate on two terrible matches from TNA’s past:

Kris Lewie v Gunner:

h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zO3Rb9Bdxw

Garret Bischoff and Wes Briscoe vs. Chavo and Hernandez: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4dFWIjlP0g

Duckman reviews Sunny’s porn movie and regrets every moment of it.

There’s also your emails, some football chat and the show is wrapped up with the Try Hard Ruler of the Week Award – which involves a failed attempt to rob a condom machine in Germany and Gary Glitter once again being the scourge of a primary school.

We always say the show is fun, but this is easily the most fun we’ve had doing a show in months.  So check it out, leave some feedback and spread the word of MFX through social media.  This is a special show for sure.

Thanks for listening.

 

MFX Ramblings, More Than A-Peeling

Band of Brothers

Never fear! The MFX Galaxy’s 2nd favourite Dundonian is back once again – with the ill behaviour – for your reading pleasure!

First off this week, thanks to Grant Cook for his kind words in his latest article, available hynah. He says I’ve been prolific with my blogs. Cheers pal. At least I know someone’s reading them!

It’s time for a confession Galaxy. I actually sat down and saved most of this article on 13th June. That’s about a month ago. But due to a combination of my own fucking laziness and… well, just my own fucking laziness to be honest, I haven’t actually posted this til now.

Being a sports fan is a strange, strange thing. Whatever sport you follow – football, basketball, rugby, baseball, cricket etc – you get this feeling. You’re surrounded by hundreds, thousands of other like-minded people who are in the stadium/arena to see the same thing as you. You’re bound by the same feeling – it’s like you’re a band of brothers.

I’ll give you an example. A few weeks ago, along with thousands of other Dundee fans, I travelled to Rob Hollands country – saff east Lahndan – for a testimonial match.

It was a long, long day, setting off from the 01382 on the train at 8:20am. There were two stages to the main journey. Dundee to Edinburgh, then from Edinburgh to London.

The first train journey was relatively quiet, uneventful even. There were people commuting to and from work, and there were others – like me – secreting booze and getting ale’d up for the long journey ahead. I sat and roared my way through 1/3 of an episode of MFX, chuckling away to myself and making merry. You could sense a friendly atmosphere. Well those of us in drink could anyway! The rest of the travellers may have had a different experience!

When I changed trains and met up with a mate of mine and my cousin, that’s when things changed.

Whilst the first train had been almost quiet and respectful, the London train was hugely different – hundreds of football fans making the same trip were singing, boozing heavily and being a general nuisance to other patrons. People you didn’t know would come up, speak to you and you’d share tales of teams gone by, reminiscing about the good times (few though we’ve had of late!)

On arriving in London around 3:00pm, normally a train full of pissed up football punters would be greeted with a less than warm welcome by the fuzz. However, London’s finest were really sound with us. They recognised we weren’t there to cause trouble. We were there to get shit-faced. And for the football. But mainly to get shit-faced.

The tale takes another turn when we’re making our way from Victoria station to Thornton Heath. It’s about a 25-minute train journey.

Heading to the platform, we’d liberated some pints from a pub and were openly swaggering down the stairs at Victoria station drinking from the glasses. A guy stops us and says: “lads, they’re not gonna let you on the platform, or the train, with those”.

Instead of telling us to leave them behind, he proceeds to reach for his back pocket. We’re all thinking “shit, we’re about to get stabbed here”.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Instead, this diamond geezer brings a newspaper out of his pocket, splits it into thirds, and tells us to wrap our pints in the local rag so we can secrete the booze and continue our party! You sir, are a legend!

Once we’re on the train, we’re absolutely wrecked. Been drinking for about 10 hours at this stage. All sense of decorum and respect for other travellers has gone out of the window. We’ve secured a table next to the train doors and proceeded to sing, shout and make general cunts of ourselves. Singing the same song over, and over, AND OVER, AND OVER again. If I was sober (and one of the norms) on that train, I’d have been fucking RAGING.

Instead, this guy sitting behind us asked if he could join in. A random Londoner, with no allegiance to either Crystal Palace or Dundee, sat down with us and enjoyed the carnival atmosphere – in our minds – that we had created, joining in with that one fucking song we’d sung til we were hoarse.

One of his fellow commuters didn’t feel the same way and let us know as much when she left the train, shouting at us “you’re just fucking retards aren’t you”.

Not ones to take unwarranted abuse lightly, we opened the window and vociferously chanted the same song we’d been singing for the entire journey, accompanied by giving it the big “wanker” sign out of the window. She was NOT amused. We tried to coerce the guy who joined us into coming to the game, but he politely refused before wishing us well as we left the train.

The game itself you ask? I’ve little to no recollection of it. I remember meeting some guy I was at uni with but who I hadn’t seen for years. I bumped into a guy I work with who described me as “the most cunted I’ve ever seen anyone”, which I took as a compliment.

Let’s be clear. Virtually every Dundee fan who made that trip was shit-faced. However, you know how when you see adverts for booze on TV and there’s a message saying “Please drink responsibly”. I’d say that we were the perfect advert for that slogan. Were we drunk? Absolutely. Anyone who says they weren’t is a fucking liar. But… we weren’t a danger to anyone else, or ourselves. Surely that’s what responsible drinking is, in and of itself?

There’s a sense of camaraderie that you get when you follow a sports team, that you rarely find anywhere else. You’ll follow the same cause, the same team, no matter what happens. Through the hard times and the good. You won’t always have the same opinions on your team, but you’ll all think you know what would be best.

You’ll make essentially pointless midweek, end-of-season trips to London, just to get royally fucked up on the train and piss other passengers off.

If those of us out there who are sports fans actually sat and thought about how much money we’ve spent following our teams – whether it be on season tickets, merchandise, away trips etc etc – you’re probably talking well into the tens of thousands.

Whilst that may be chump change to people like our Lord and Master Sir Ian Trumps, it’s an awful lot of cash over a lifetime. Think what we could actually have to show for it if we didn’t piss it all away on a sports team.

But why do we do it? Because it gives us a sense of belonging. An almost tribalistic feeling. It gives us a common cause. We fucking love our teams. And we’d follow them anywhere. As Grant and I did a few weeks ago. For an essentially pointless piss-up. In London. On a Tuesday night. I feel a song coming on…

Oh what a night… late in May following the great Dundee… Nadir Ciftci loves to use his teeth… Like a snake he loves to bite…

MFX Ramblings, The Cook Report

London Calling

With my fellow Dundonian ‘The Animal’ getting all prolific with his blog, I have decided to find something worth writing about. This week, I will not be having a go at anyone with beards, I will not be talking politics, and I will mostly be happy.

In the past month, I have travelled the globe looking for something to write about, although when I say that, what I mean is I had a holiday in Benidorm before heading off to London for a few days.

First off, for anyone thinking of visiting Benidorm, don’t. It was described to me before I left as ‘Blackpool with sun’. I would describe it as a total shitehole. Don’t get me wrong, the weather was great, the drink was relatively cheap, but everything else was truly awful.

While I was away, I celebrated my 21st birthday, again, and of all the 21st birthdays I have had, this one was probably the most memorable. It started well enough with a trip to the local casino where I was plied with free drink, as my mate won a small fortune. All good so far.

What followed though was not so good. Benidorm has an attraction. Blackpool has a tower, New York has a Statue, Rome has a coliseum. Benidorm has Sticky Vicky.

So what else could I do but wander along and take in the show?

When we arrived, the act coming on stage was a ventriloquist, allegedly. I always thought the main part of that act was the ability to talk without moving your lips, apparently not. But that is by the by, the next act on stage was Vicky.

Now there is absolutely no way I can adequately describe the act Vicky does, but in essence, a 71 year old woman comes on stage, strips, goes behind a podium and shoves things into her vagina, before coming out from that podium and pulling them out again.

And we are talking razor blades, flowers, a caravan came out at one point I think, to be honest, I was trying to blot out the sound of my eyes crying too much to be paying attention. The climax of the show, and God forgive me for picking THAT word, was Vicky opening a coke bottle, and not the screw on type, with her front bottom. The only redeeming feature of her act was it was better than the comedian who followed her.

But now to the good stuff. I arrived home in Dundee on the Sunday, then left for London the following day to go and watch a football match.

This particular match was a testimonial for Julian Speroni, a goalkeeper who played less than 100 games for Dundee, before spending ten years at Crystal Palace.

Now realistically, this is a kick about, 600 miles away, for a player who did not spend that long at Dundee, on a Tuesday night. How many fans are going to make that trip?

Around 2,000 Dees travelled by train, car, bus and plane, and given the club had just over 4,000 season ticket holders, that is not too shabby.

Croydon welcomed this travelling army with open arms, we were welcomed in every bar, restaurant, shop and even a museum. Dundee fans took Monday as a settling in day, before the festivities kicked off in earnest on the Tuesday.

I don’t want to knock Croydon, but we visited some of the mankiest boozers in the world, and we had a whale of a time. The singing started at about lunchtime, and continued right through the game and on until we were kicked out of the pub at midnight. We then carried on in the hotel bar till the wee small hours.

Now all that is great, and there is a point to this tale. In Scotland, football fans are treated a bit like cattle. We are herded into grounds,and told to sit down and shut up. I have watched Aberdeen fans in Dundee being told by police where to walk, and when to do it. In our own stadium, the club is currently modifying a section of the stadium to deal with home fans deemed too rowdy.

At Crystal Palace, we sat in a pub till 15 mins before kick off, we walked through Palace fans to get to the away end, we got a beer at half time, well a few beers, and Dundee fans took advantage of this freedom to have a party. And party we did. The game finished 4-3 to the home side, and off we went in search of a pub.

It is slightly strange when you walk into a pub for the first time, 600 miles from home, and you know at least half the people in there, but that is what happened. The police in Croydon looked at the Dundee fans, saw we were there for the party, and pretty much left us to it. We partied with Palace fans, without Palace fans, in the pubs, clubs and hotels. In Scotland, we would have been refused entry to most of those places.

George has already written about the reason fans in Scotland are treated this way, it is mostly to do with the bigot brothers, Celtic and The Rangers. They take massive support wherever they play, and in amongst those thousands are a few troublemakers.

So the Police in Scotland treat every away support the way they would treat those troublemakers, and that is not right. While I would never pretend the supporters of other clubs are all angels, in general, football fans are pretty well behaved. But they have been demonised in the press, and non football fans expect the worst.

On the train journey down, a few Dees took advantage of some beer they happened to find in their suitcases, they sang a few songs as they drank. The guard on the train took exception, and the transport police were called. A woman behind me asked what was going on and it was explained to her in pretty much those exact words.

By the time she passed the story on, football fans were rioting.

But what this trip showed was that a group of football fans can travel to watch their club, interact with the locals in a perfectly normal way, and everyone has a good time, like, well like normal people would.

We don’t need to be policed aggressively, we don’t need to be treated badly, in fact, that is only likely to cause bother. Now I get this was an unusual game, and I get that the atmosphere created by both sets of fans was probably a bit less confrontational than if it were a game with real rivalry. I get that everyone was there to see Speroni, and the fans had something in common.

But putting all that aside, what we had was two sets of fans being treated like normal human beings, and in turn, the fans showed respect to each other, and to the stewards and police. And everyone had a great time.

However bad the trip to Benidorm was, the trip to Croydon was great, and part  of that is down to the occasion, part is down to the fans,  a big part is down to the people and police in Croydon, who allowed the fans to party without getting heavy handed.

And as part of the #CML bandwagon, I finally plucked up the courage to ask someone out, she said yes…….

MFX Ramblings, More Than A-Peeling

The Old Firm – Scotland’s Shame

As a Scotsman, there’s quite a lot to be embarrassed about most of the time:

  • our national obsession with eating shite food for example.
  • my city (Dundee)’s long reign as the European city with the highest rate of teenage pregnancy. Champiooooneee’s, Champiooooneee’s, ole, ole, ole… Champiooooneee’s, Champiooooneee’s, ole, ole, ole…
  • our inability to produce sportsmen/women of any note (Andy Murray and Chris Hoy aside) for the last couple of decades.

But occasionally, there’s one thing that shames Scotland, or our national game (football), even more than that.

It’s the moronic element of some Old Firm fans (that’s Rangers and Celtic fans for those keeping score at home) who think it’s acceptable to spout their sectarian bile when “supporting” their teams both home and away, whether that’s domestically, or on a European stage.

I’d like to stress at this point that it is a minority of the tens of thousands of fans who support both Rangers and Celtic, but because they’re still the biggest clubs in our country, even when they play away from home, their support still makes us the majority of the crowd at any game they play in. It’s not big and it’s not clever.

There are ways and means of supporting your team without resorting to the sort of crap that some Rangers and Celtic fans do.

Whether it’s Rangers fans singing pro-Ulster songs or Celtic fans singing pro-IRA songs, the simple fact is that they’re embarrassing themselves, their clubs and the majority of their fans. There’s not a curse word in the world that accurately describes these scumbags. Their behaviour has no place in football, much less society.

At a time when Scottish football as a whole is struggling to find sponsorship, or produce any talented young players, the last thing we need is these clowns embarrassing us.

Our Premier League doesn’t have a sponsor, interest in the game is dwindling because of the quality – or lack thereof – of the football and the price it costs to sit and watch turgid, meaningless games.

I’m 32 years old and the general atmosphere at games these days pales in comparison to what it was like when I was a kid. There would always be singing and chanting in an attempt to – surprise, surprise – SUPPORT your team – before and during the match. Nowadays, there’s an overwhelming sense of apathy and a lack of interest.

In fact, I’d say that actually going to the games interrupts what would be a quality Saturday afternoon in the boozer. Get a coupon on, have a few scoops, watch the results come in – get Goldferg’d. Almost the perfect Saturday.

English football fans have NO IDEA what it’s like to sit and watch the standard of football that we have to put up with – they think THEY’VE got it bad. And when they are treated to it thanks to either BT or Sky Sports, they hear this religious shite and nonsense that’s spewed forth by “fans” who claim to “support” Rangers and Celtic.

It makes you feel ashamed, even if you’ve got no affiliation with either of the Glasgow clubs. I would say giants, but fuck me… look at the nick of Rangers just now. (Don’t worry Duckers, I won’t go into that!)

It’s no surprise that the Scottish Premier League doesn’t have a sponsor. Just imagine what it looks like to multi-national companies who MIGHT be persuaded to invest money when Celtic and/or Rangers fans pipe up with their bile.

Celtic and Rangers, as clubs, must be able to pinpoint areas of the ground where this sort of thing happens on a regular basis, and in their role in the community, they’ve got a responsibility to nip this kind of bullshit in the bud to stop it from spreading to other generations. Sectarianism is like a disease, and it’s spreading from generation to generation.

It’s up to the clubs to police it themselves, since the fuzz seem either unable or unwilling to do it. But how can the clubs police it I hear you ask. Well my friends, never fear. Peel is here.

When Celtic or Rangers fans (or any fans for that matter) buy a ticket for an away game, they should have to produce a season ticket. When they hand their season ticket over, the ticket for the away game should either be scanned against their name or a voucher should be taken from their book.

Then, with the help of the local police, identify these pricks who insist on spewing this shite through the tickets they’ve bought, and ban them for life. Seriously. Why should sectarianism be viewed as less serious than racism or homophobia? It’s just as disgusting and a cancer on society, never mind football.

For those of you who might be thinking “ah, but they only do it at the football” or “they only do it because the other one does it”, is that really an excuse? Really? Come on now… Take the moral high ground. Just stop it.

This is a serious time for Scottish football. The cavalcade of clowns, charlatans and crooks who have taken it in turns to “control” Rangers are seemingly hell-bent on running them in to the ground, no matter what happens.

Rangers have a massive fanbase. There’s a huge tradition with that club and fans across the world each have their memories of what Rangers means to them. And it’s the “normal” fans who I feel sorry for. The lads who put their hands in their pockets during these tough times, and how do they get rewarded? By getting Barrymore’d.

I never thought I’d say/type this in my life, but Scottish football can’t survive without a successful, well-run Rangers. Celtic need Rangers, as much as Rangers need Celtic. Even the most ardent Celtic fans would agree with that.

Celtic could play their under-19’s team and still win the Premier League, comfortably. They need Rangers to push them. Otherwise, it’s like what Duckers and Trumps said the other week. Like a 20-year old playing 5-a-side against his 7-year old nephews.

So, at a time when Scottish football is struggling to get any meaningful traction and exposure, the last thing we need are these stupid cunts who claim to be football fans, embarrassing not just their clubs, but their country by spewing vitriolic, nasty, vile abuse just because someone has different beliefs than they do.

They’re Scotland’s shame. And it’s high time both clubs did something about it.

Podcasts

MFX Unleashed Ep 1.

Episode 1 of MFX Unleashed is up! Join your heroes Duckman and Sir Ian Trumps as they leave behind the world of pro wrestling and are unleashed on pop culture, sport, news and any other random topic they can find. On the show this week…

The lads discuss the recent departure of David Moyes as Manchester United manager and the state of football in general. Duckman shares his love of the Stone Roses and the story of why he will always love the band and one song in particular. The lads discuss the recent Psychopath Night TV show and Sir Ian takes a test to see how much of a psychopath he is! Plus the lads award the first MFX Jar Jar Binks Award to someone who is so horrible, they are second only to Jar Jar in the list of the worst things ever created.

It’s a really fun show, with a few serious elements thrown in for good measure. We hope you enjoy it and that you get involved with future shows through all the usual channels.

Thanks for listening!