From 7 o’clock onwards last night on FiveLive’s footy phone-in radio programme, a couple of socca-jocks were fielding the phone lines. One was rotund, half-Croatian, half-English and half West Brommer Brummy anchorman, Adrian Chiles. The other was fugitive war criminal, habitual liar, plastic Englishman and all round bad egg, Tony ‘Geordie’ Blair.
I listened, hoping that someone, anyone would break through the Maginot line of BBC censorship. Could any English nationalist get through to disturb the fawning, the adulation, the Blair-is-a-God crew from ringing in? Grovelling footy questions were on the menu and nothing else…"Tony, I think you’re a brilliant kinda guy and that you should be our manager…. And our top striker…. And our goalie"
It sort of smelled a bit like another NuLabour rentagrovel operation.
Half an hour in, and I’m feeling like puking up. Chiles is creeping like Uriah Heep on a creep mission to the biggest creep in the world. He’s going for a Knighthood – or at least permission to water his garden with a hosepipe…
Chiles is brown-nosing so much, he’s reached the small intestine. Tony is smiling, confident in the knowledge that his sketchy footy knowledge can out do any hand picked grovelling phone innerer…..
The thoughts of Tone began to expand. ’Operation Earnest Guy’ kicked in…. "Look, I think that everyone in the You Kay should support England – I mean, if Scotland had got to the World Cup Finals, then I would have no problem in supporting them – and I know most people in England would support them also"…..
Sorry, did I just hear right? Scotch Tony. ‘Jocky’ Blair would support Scotland if they reached the Dubbya Cee Effs?…. Is this man totally mad? Worse still, does he think we're all a few chips short of a haggis butty or what?
And that’s the wonder of Tony Blair isn’t it?– He’s left his Edinburgh birthplace, his posh Scottish school and his orthodox Scottish Christian upbringing behind…… and reinvented himself. Posh Jocky Tone is now Streetwise Geordie Tone, brought up in a Gateshead sink estate, smawwkin’ Woodbines by the time he was 10 and worshipping W’or Jackie Milburn from the Gallagher End in the baggy shorted glory years….
The hour is almost up, jock-jocky Tone is fielding footy mundanity with consummate ease. There is just 5 minutes to go and no one has yet broken through the offside trap ….
Or have they?
Adrian Chiles, coming up for air and removing an appendix from his throat, Brummily drones into the mike….. "And now we have err, ‘Della Petch’ on the line, she wants to ask a question about England, Prime Minister"….
Della Petch is on the line! Petchy has managed to ghost through on the blind side like a dead George Best – and now she’s here, right in front of goal.
I punch the air. Della ‘bite yer legs’ Petch is about to unleash a goal-bound shot…..
Chopper Petch opened up - "Why is the Prime Minister supporting England when he’s doing his utmost to turn England into a group of Euro-regions"…..
Poacher Petch had scored a beauty. It flew from her fabled right foot and nestled into the top corner of the net. 1 – 0 to the 50 million I think! For a few seconds, the ordinary kinda guy did a passable impression of a fish…. ‘Ordinary kinda guy’ noises sorta flopped out of him. Was he appealing for handball, a two footed tackle, or even worse, a bit of independent thinking?
Just then, Chiles, the basket-case in the black whipped out his red card. Petch was sent for an early bath…….. "ooooooh ‘eck, let’s move onto Cherie from London"…..
And so ended Blair’s fraternisation with the footy phone in……
Next week, Tony tries his hand at gardening with Monty Don…