Me and JT text each other everyday. This is the second installment of the ‘Comms’ series whereby I can claim I’ve written another blog post but really I’ve just transcribed a text conversation. We meander a bit. We always do…
JT: A few years back a couple of councillors, the Turtons, moved to rural Wales midway through their terms. To open an alpaca farm.
P.S. That is true.
JR: That’s one of my favourite political vignettes I’ve ever heard. Are you tuning into the Fulham-Arsenal match? What a loveable game this is. I’m so pleased Wolves dramatic comeback was turned into a damp squib by premier mallethead/dickhead Frank Lampard Jr.
JT: Yeah, I’m about to switch over. I’d like to not sleep for 3 days, watch Boyz n the Hood on Blu Ray, eat a sack of raw pasta shells then shank Lampard into viscera in a carbohydrate haze.
JR: Ha, ha! Superb. The posh, chubby faced presenter in the studio just said to Gary Neville “The tunnel at Craven Cottage is an odd one isn’t it?” to which Neville replied “It’s not a tunnel.” Sublime. Did you see Hodgson’s latest self-mutilation?
JT: I fully lol-ed at it. To me his weird reverse headbutt seemed like one of those times when you lash out in frustration in the expectation it won’t hurt much - slamming your hand onto a table, for example - and then it really does.
JR: Exactly. When he does these things it’s almost as if he is doing them because he thinks he has to show some form of ‘passion’ but being a learned, bookish fellow he can’t quite pull it off, unlike other ‘jock’ managers like Mark Hughes. For example, Roy Keane would have thrown off his coat in rage, pissed on it, set it alight and sacrificed a ball boy to Mars, God of War whereas Hodgson threw his coat to the ground, only to retrieve it thirty seconds later because he had a shiver.
JT: Its good, or at least amusing, that we have a multilingual manager who expounds on his favourite books in his programme notes isnt it? For all his tactical conservatism and his bizarre touchiness about his record, I think he’s a transparently decent man too.
JR: Oh yeah, I reckon he would love a pint of Old Empire down The George. He’s a man for all classes and creeds. He also looks like Virgil, the wise owl guardian from the animated series ‘Mighty Max’ and I respect that.
JT: In my darkest hours Hodgson usually appears in my bedroom mirror, dressed in snappy 1920s garb, and croons ‘Paper Moon’ to me.
JR: A giant, floating image of his face appears to me, shrouded in a pale-green mist at difficult junctures in my life. He usually makes a reference to a 17th century farce and then hands the vision over to Clint ‘Deuce’ Dempsey who simplifies what Hodgson had said into bite-size, urban chunks, often backed by some grimy Detroit beats. I wake up with an erection.
JT: You are a sick, sick man.
JR: I consider myself blessed.
JT: I won’t truly consider my left well lived until I’ve buried my head in Katy Perry’s tits.
JR: I just want to sit her and Zooey Deschanel in a room and point at them repeatedly asking them whether they know that they look alike. The moment they made a sighing noise (they must get it all the time) I would pull out a WWII Luger and fire it at the ceiling. I would leave the room without saying a word. They would be so hot for me they would (probably) just start being lesbians and when I re-entered the room wearing my 2009/10 Hertha Berlin home shirt they would be all over me like middling Premier League clubs around Steve Sidwell on a free transfer.
JT: I just want Emma Stone to smoke a luxury pack of Camels then speak at me all night.
JR: Mate, I would film that and then spend three weeks editing you out and super-imposing images of Kat Dennings in your place.
JT: You’d have wanked yourself to death by then. Any man of woman born would.
JR: We should actively seek out timeslips and show that video to people like King Herod, Stalin etc. and change the course of history via Dennings-Stone girl on girl chat action.
JT: We could solve all poverty and war if it ended with Dennings faux orgasm from Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist.