Current mood: RECOVERING....
Category: RECOVERING.... Music
Jesus....
I don't know about the rest of the world, but today on Fish, we had a few hours of the day that actually resembled 'GOOD' weather...
Yes boss, THE SUN WAS OUT!!! AND FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ABOUT 9 MONTHS IT WAS POSSIBLE TO LEAVE THE HOUSE WITHOUT A FUCKING COAT!!!
I even reduced myself to a SHORT SLEEVES for a matter of seconds (before quickly realising this was taking moderate sunshine much too far)
Well shit, I needed such a sunny day, because last night I lost BIG...
Yes boss, Mr Betting Expert Giovanni, executed a shrewd but institutionally stale gambling strategy and lost everything he had in his poxy Betfair account on the back of a very dubious judging decision indeed...
It went like this...
I figured the fight between Welshman Joe Clazaghe & the American, Bernard Hopkins was unlikely to be a knockout. Both guys were far too experienced and old school to be falling over easily. There was too much at stake...
I therefore only looked at the odds on the full 12 rounds.
43 year old Hopkins was sitting at about 3-1 (good odds) and Calzaghe and less than 1-1 (bad odds).
Always a sucker for the good odds, the only place to go was on Hopkins, but I didn't feel sure enough he'd win unless there was cheating and/or a US bias.
I mean, Christ, the man's old enough to be most of his opponents father - what chance did he have against an undefeated champion who's been top of the heap for 10 full years?!?
Yes boss, the way I saw it, Hopkins looked more likely to be one more example of a fighter who fights on too long than any kind of a victor...
So, like any controlled mover, I held off betting altogether..
Until Hopkins put Calzaghe on the floor in the first round...
Yes boss, it seemed that despite his talent and 9 years of youth, Mr Calzaghe had got carried away with his own hype and from then on, the (British) radio commentary failed to see anything other than a somewhat convincing points win for Bernard Hopkins....
Well, after a few more rounds of Calzaghe apparently not being in the fight, I went in on Hopkins who was still sitting at around 3-1 (even though he appeared to be creaming towards a remarkable and complete victory...)
Then, at the end of round 8 when the commentators described Calzaghe as 'slumping onto his stool' I made the brave stab of going ALL IN!!!
IT FELT GOOD!!!!
Yes boss, Calzaghe did come back into the fight in the later rounds, but as the bell tinged for the final time, the odds had completely shifted, making Hopkins a HUGE favourite for the decision - Everyone, the market included appeared to believe there was no question other than an EASY PEASEY win for Hopkins...
Apart from the 3 judges - who awarded an inexplicable easy victory to Calzaghe...
FUCK IT AND FUCK THEM!!!!
Anyway...
Regardless of this BLATANT FUCKING FIX, I woke up this late morning feeling ABSOLUTELY FINE!!! And seeing the sun, I figured positivity was completely vital in order to recover my spritis and verve for life...
Yes boss, there's no point dwelling on spilt money...
So, I put on Caramba Hot Rhythm From South America by Roberto Delgado And His Orchestra, danced around the flat a little, then in order to celebrate and encourage the sun out further, put on PLENTY of brightly coloured clothes.
Yes boss, like everything and everyone, the sun needs encouragement and positive affirmation.
I therefore adorned myself with the full Giovanna outfit: Red trainers, red trousers, a white poloshirt, a bright yellow tracksuit top and yellow framed sunglasses...
Paul Giovanni often enjoys spending time with hs fans and is more than happy to pose for photos
Well, suitably adorned, I went for a wander about the park and as I looked and watched the other folk, something clicked in my fashion and general logic brain..
Yes boss, I realised that the rest of London (for the very most part at least) has no fucking idea how to dress...?!?
No boss, there we are: It's spring, the sun is shining and it's half warm for the first time in months and what is everyone wearing????
uhgghhhh, dull errr H&M errr browns and errr greys and errrr Gap jeans and errr blacks and errrrrrrrrrrrr horrible dull browns and errrr....
AKA COLDPLAY CHIC!!!!
IT MADE ME FUCKING SICK!!!!
I MEAN IS IT ANY FUCKING WONDER THE SUN SEEMS TO HAVE LOST ALL INTEREST IN THE UK,WHEN PEOPLE WALK AROUND DRESSED LIKE THAT?!??
THEY REALLY ARE ALL CUNTS OUT THERE!!!!!
Anyway, what about the fucking music in this blog Giovanni?!??
Ummm...
Well, I'm trying to get over this Calzaghe thing, so I'm currently listening to Wales in Song: The Second Festival Of One Thousand Welsh Male Voices (Recorded at the Royal Albert Hall, London on 16th October 1970) in an effort to bond with and forgive my Welsh brothers...
Yes boss, I'm fond of choirs (did I ever mention that my sister was in the choir that did the backing vocals on that lovely National Express song by The Divine Comedy??)
But nevermind that...
As many of you will know, nowadays Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales take a pretty dim view of England and the English.
Indeed, though this record cranks up with the The British National Anthem 'God Save The Queen' it ends with the Welsh one 'Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau' and the latter is sung with FAR more gusto and pride than the former...
Yes boss, it pains me to say it, but it seems that after years of bloody oppression, sheep jokes and heavy primary industry, these satellite countries of Britain have finally realised that us English are little more than bad tempered alcoholic bullies that can be easily done without - and bit by bit they're doing just that
Of course it's a grave error on the count of the Scots, Welsh and Irish, if only because they'll just get another bunch of manipulative cunts in charge of their country that just happen to speak a little more familiar (a politician is a politician is a politician) - but I guess if I'm to maintain my Futureproofness I'll just have to accept it's happening...
Anyway, do you know what I found about Great Britains collective National Album upon reading the sleeve notes of this fine record that features a thousand Welsh men singing in London??
'God Save The Queen/King' (depending on which parasitic toff is in charge) was written by someone called
'Bull'...
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