B(l)ogwatch
With Ben busy this weekend no doubt having a muddy marvellous time at Glastonbury, I thought I would take on the Blogwatch remit in his absence and find out what those blogging blighters are up to. After all, it beats talking about the football with England yet again snatching a hard-luck story from the jaws of victory in their Euro 2004 quarter-final against Portugal. For the Portugese fan's perspective, Eduardo offers a terse rebuttal to any tabloid suggestions that England 'wuz robbed' and links to the pretty damning match statistics which back his case all too depressingly. Ed reserves his strongest criticism though to the also departing French who 'played like crap, as if paying the French supporters a favour. Oh well, their loss. Nobody likes them much, actually.'
For my last ever mention about football on this site (or at least until a team I support actually wins an important game), Martin from The Copydesk is responsible for Portugoal a BBC website aimed at providing irreverent Euro2004 fun for fans of teams that didn't qualify (ie. the Scots).
Meanwhile, Paulos and Marcia have both resumed updating within a few days of each other, following lengthy absences. Worth a completely unsubstantiated rumour, anyone?
You have to give that Excuse Me For Laughing fella some credit; there's not that many bloggers that do requests these days, but at my behest, he has delivered a clarification on his views on Helen Walsh's Brass. You know, between me and you, I think he quite likes the book, really: it's a bit like when you were at school and you tortured a girl's pets rather than talk to her (what? you never did that? really?). WARNING, though: not all bloggers come good on requests, three years on and there's still no sign of Brooke's polaroids. (I'm not quite sure when an attempt at a running joke actually crosses the line into stalking but I think I probably passed said line some time ago :-o)
Of course, Wimbledon is entering its second week, which naturally means undue attention paid to the Russian women players, including Maria Sharapova's cleavage courtesy of Uncle Grambo.
I opted not to go to the Radio 4 gig in Birmingham on Monday as it clashed with the England v Croatia game, Phill from Danger! High Postage! took the opposite decision and provides a thoughtful review. Talking of good music, Large Hearted Boy has revealed his best XI albums of the year to date. I'll be delivering my own half-term report in the next couple of weeks, as I know all too well your life will lack direction without my studious assistance on these matters.
In brief, Anja's offline for a while moving house, we're busy hiding from Robyn (don't tell her, you spoilsports!); Graybo is industriously scribbling out his wedding invites; Danish correspondent John Fogde has confessed to getting freaked out by women getting intense about football, and this just in - Emma's on fire.
As you were, then.
With Ben busy this weekend no doubt having a muddy marvellous time at Glastonbury, I thought I would take on the Blogwatch remit in his absence and find out what those blogging blighters are up to. After all, it beats talking about the football with England yet again snatching a hard-luck story from the jaws of victory in their Euro 2004 quarter-final against Portugal. For the Portugese fan's perspective, Eduardo offers a terse rebuttal to any tabloid suggestions that England 'wuz robbed' and links to the pretty damning match statistics which back his case all too depressingly. Ed reserves his strongest criticism though to the also departing French who 'played like crap, as if paying the French supporters a favour. Oh well, their loss. Nobody likes them much, actually.'
For my last ever mention about football on this site (or at least until a team I support actually wins an important game), Martin from The Copydesk is responsible for Portugoal a BBC website aimed at providing irreverent Euro2004 fun for fans of teams that didn't qualify (ie. the Scots).
Meanwhile, Paulos and Marcia have both resumed updating within a few days of each other, following lengthy absences. Worth a completely unsubstantiated rumour, anyone?
You have to give that Excuse Me For Laughing fella some credit; there's not that many bloggers that do requests these days, but at my behest, he has delivered a clarification on his views on Helen Walsh's Brass. You know, between me and you, I think he quite likes the book, really: it's a bit like when you were at school and you tortured a girl's pets rather than talk to her (what? you never did that? really?). WARNING, though: not all bloggers come good on requests, three years on and there's still no sign of Brooke's polaroids. (I'm not quite sure when an attempt at a running joke actually crosses the line into stalking but I think I probably passed said line some time ago :-o)
Of course, Wimbledon is entering its second week, which naturally means undue attention paid to the Russian women players, including Maria Sharapova's cleavage courtesy of Uncle Grambo.
I opted not to go to the Radio 4 gig in Birmingham on Monday as it clashed with the England v Croatia game, Phill from Danger! High Postage! took the opposite decision and provides a thoughtful review. Talking of good music, Large Hearted Boy has revealed his best XI albums of the year to date. I'll be delivering my own half-term report in the next couple of weeks, as I know all too well your life will lack direction without my studious assistance on these matters.
In brief, Anja's offline for a while moving house, we're busy hiding from Robyn (don't tell her, you spoilsports!); Graybo is industriously scribbling out his wedding invites; Danish correspondent John Fogde has confessed to getting freaked out by women getting intense about football, and this just in - Emma's on fire.
As you were, then.
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