FA Cup - That'll be ours then!

Chelsea 1-0 Manchester United

What exactly is a Waratah? (Part 2)

Waratahs 16 Force 16

Lote Tuqiri is expecting to be the target of widespread criticism after his extraordinary act of abusing then pushing teammate Sam Norton-Knight over a blunder that cost the Waratahs a much-needed victory over the Force at Aussie Stadium last night.

The Waratahs had the chance in the final seconds to break the 16-16 deadlock when they were awarded a penalty about 45 metres out. To the shock of his teammates, Norton-Knight emerged from nowhere and took a quick tap, charging down the sideline, only to be tackled while executing a quick chip kick. The ball was re-gathered by Force fullback Cameron Shepherd who cleared it, ending the game.

A furious Tuqiri ran 30m to chastise Norton-Knight, first with a verbal spray. But then he bumped into him with a shoulder before angrily pushing him in the back. A few seconds later Tuqiri turned and hurled more abuse at his shocked teammate.



After the Waratahs left the field with many in the 31,109-strong crowd booing them, Tuqiri apologised for his public admonishment of Norton-Knight.

But he was not expecting the issue to simply disappear overnight. "I know I will cop a bit of heat this week, but I have been copping heat the last few weeks as the media has been putting the knife in lately," said Tuqiri, his comment referring to the criticism for his form this season and the ongoing negotiations over his playing future.

While Tuqiri stood before his teammates in the sanctity of the Waratahs' changeroom to apologise to Norton-Knight, he tried to explain his actions.

"I am a passionate footballer, but my passion overflowed … there was a rush of blood," he said.

Tuqiri said that when NSW were awarded the crucial penalty, he thought the best option would be for Peter Hewat to take the penalty kick.

"But he [Norton-Knight] obviously didn't think that and backed himself," Tuqiri said. "It probably wasn't the right time to do it."

However, Tuqiri admitted that his response was a case of poor judgement as well. "My reaction was probably not right and I should keep those reactions behind closed doors. I want to win games … results are first and foremost."

The tense finale to a game that saw both sides leave with the consolation of two competition points for the draw highlighted the frustration the Waratahs are feeling as the Super 14 season nears half-way. They have had one win, one draw and two losses after five rounds (round four was a bye).

Tuqiri was obviously pumped up for a huge game last night, talking up teammates and giving the opposition some niggle, as Force forward David Pusey found out.

However, as the clock ticked down towards full-time, the emotions were building, especially after the Waratahs were left leaderless without captain and hooker Adam Freier and vice-captain Morgan Turinui, who were replaced in the 52nd minute. NSW coach Ewen McKenzie later said that Rocky Elsom had assumed leadership.

When NSW finally drew level 16-16 off a penalty kicked by Hewat in the 65th minute it was Tuqiri who directed the kick at goal.

It was a game that both sides could have won had they taken advantage of the periods in the game when they were in control. Both sides led the match which became a dull battle for field position.

The Force were the last to lead, from the 43rd minute to the 65th. And when they did take the lead soon after half-time, they seemed to be carrying the first-half momentum that had brought them back from a shocking start to be only 13-11 down.

It was man-of-the-match, the Force's five-eighth Matt Giteau, who then produced the best move of the game, 15m out after seeing NSW second-rower Will Caldwell had drifted wide.

Giteau stepped back inside and charged through the gap to beat opposing No.10 Kurtley Beale to score their second try.

In yesterday's other match, the Blues surged to a 28-9 victory over the Highlanders in Auckland.

NSW 16 (Morgan Turinui try; Peter Hewat con, 3 pens) drew with WESTERN FORCE 16 (Drew Mitchell, Matt Giteau tries; Cameron Shepherd 2 pens) at Aussie Stadium. Referee: Paul Marks (Aus). Crowd: 31,149.

What exactly is a Waratah?

A brutal beast of the bush? A vicious lizard? A mythical dragon?

A million miles from home

But happy!

...Half past four in the morning and looking out over the harbour. A half finished glass of water sits on the table, tell-tale signs of another night of excess down under. The city out there is blissfully unaware of the result from Cardiff. But, it matters not a jot. It's the win that counts. Didier Drogba grabbed both goals as Chelsea came from behind to win a Carling Cup final that ended in ugly scenes at the Millennium Stadium. Junior Walcott had given The Arsenal a lead after showing Ricardo Carvalho forged ID...

Full match report to follow when I wake up...

...Later

However, the Blues equalised when The Drog beat the infamous The Arsenal offside trap to slot home an equaliser and then with six minutes to go he headed in a powerful winner. A crappy brawl erupted between the sides late on that led to dismissals for Mikel Jon Obi, Kolo Toure and Emmanuel Adebayor. It was an amusing climax to an intriguing final and cruel luck (yeah right!) on Arsenal's young side, who allegedly dominated for large spells in the last League Cup final in Cardiff.

Arsenal's outfield players had an average age of less than 21 but they showed few nerves in producing some wonderful football before eventually running out of steam. And they fell victim to the clinical finishing of Drogba, who scored his 27th and 28th goals of the season to again deny Arsenal manager Arsene Wenger a League Cup medal - which is a real shame!

The Blues had Petr Cech to thank in the 11th minute for a stunning save after Julio Baptista had drilled a shot through the legs of John Terry, who surprisingly overcame an ankle injury to play but ended the day in hospital. Chelsea failed to clear the resulting corner and Walcott exchanged passes with Abou Diaby and glided past Carvalho before keeping his cool to slot the ball past Cech.

The 17-year-old could not have chosen a more predictable time to score his first goal for the Gunners. Although the fact that he was actually allowed to play in a match sponsored by an Alcoholic beverage company, surely a blatant case of flouting the licencing laws, must have been a key factor in Lord Percy's half-hearted attempt to nobble him.

However, fear not stout hearted fellows! The Blues equalised in clinical fashion in the 20th minute. The Arsenal back line pushed up when Michael Ballack played a ball over the top for Drogba, who ran on to slip the ball under Manuel Almunia. It was a split decision given in favour of the attacking player but Wenger spent much of the opening half displaying his anger at a linesman's failure to flag. Well, lordy me! Arsene Wenger moaning again, whatever next.

Arsenal continued to run around a lot and apparently could have restored their lead just before half-time - but for a Lord Percy intervention to deny Jeremie Aliadiere. And the Gunners continued to look the more likely scorers after the break, or so the bloke from the BBC web site reckoned with Diaby denied by Cech and Fabregas shooting just the wrong side of the post.

The Blues lost skipper Terry midway through the half when he took a boot in the face from Diaby as he tried to finish off an Arjen Robben corner. Terry was knocked unconscious and the referee gave a goal-kick. Well, he is Chelsea you know. The brutal and clumsy assault fired up the boys (the things he does to get them going) and they finished strongly and Arsenal's young legs began to tire. All that aimless running around and pouting no doubt. Drogba had a shot saved by Almunia and Frank Lampard produced a dipping long-range shot that smacked against the bar.

In the 84th minute Robben's cross picked out Drogba and he headed past a stranded Almunia, having left the witless Senderos sprawling on the Millenium Stadium's turf for the umpteenth time. Sheva could have made the seven minutes of injury time more bearable but his drilled shot thundered back off the bar. The game ended in a bit of a tizz when Obi clashed with Toure and several players from each team, as well as both managers, got involved in an ugly scuffle. Referee Howard the Duck dished out three red cards to Toure, Adebayor and Obi as well as matching yellows to Fabregas and Super Frank. Over 11 minutes of added-on time was played before the final whistle was blown to hand the first major trophy of the season to Jose and the Boys. One down...

Chelsea: Cech, Diarra, Terry (Mikel 63), Carvalho, Bridge, Makelele (Robben 46), Lampard, Ballack, Essien, Shevchenko (Kalou 90), Drogba. Subs Not Used: Hilario, Ashley Cole.
Sent Off: Mikel (90).
Booked: Essien, Carvalho, Diarra, Lampard.
Goals: Drogba 20, 84.

Arsenal: Almunia, Hoyte, Toure, Senderos, Traore (Eboue 66), Walcott, Fabregas, Denilson, Diaby (Hleb 68), Aliadiere (Adebayor 80), Julio Baptista. Subs Not Used: Poom, Djourou.
Sent Off: Toure (90), Adebayor (90).
Booked: Denilson, Eboue, Fabregas.
Goals: Walcott 12.

Post script.
JT is fine in fact he was back at the stadium soon after the match having checked out of hospital. Flash was last heard of giving it large to all the Gooners and funnily enough the Arsenal fans I know seem all to have their mobiles switched off.

Things I have learned in Australia (1)

Fag breaks are Smoko's
- A slang term used on building sites in Australia, meaning a morning-tea break, or a smoke break.
"we'll knock off at 11 for smoko"
"grab us some pies for smoko"

Chavs are Bogun's
- Australian person, usually caucasian,of uncouth and lower class background,residing on the edge of civilisation. Characteristics of a bogun include,proudly sporting a mullet hair cut,extremely small shorts,a grease stained t-shirt underneath a flanelette shirt of some description.A bogun's natural habitat is any suburb of Australia with low property values,in a house that generally has 2 or 3 cars up on bricks in the front yard with no wheels or missing vital mechanical parts.One of the cars must be a ute(utility vehicle).Boguns are genrally spotted with a stubbie(screw top beer bottle) or bong (pot smoking paraphernalia) in hand.

Dustmen are Garbo's
- Originally Greta Louisa Gustafsson, born in 1905 and perished in 1990. Swedish-born American actress who was known for her preferring to be isolated.Also known for her performances in such films as Queen Christina (1933) and Camille (1937).

Keep that bloody noise down

The world's largest ocean liner the Queen Mary 2 has departed Sydney, capping off a brief but historic visit to the harbour city. The $1 billion grand lady of the sea made her maiden visit to Sydney on Tuesday, arriving through the heads at 5.45am before docking at the Garden Island naval base. All of which was very nice, but did they have to make so much noise? As the QM2 came through the heads, it was accompanied but a flotilla of about 100 small ships and a small squadron of news helicopters. Lovely! Ideal in fact after a late night.

It was too tall, at 23 storeys high, to sail under the Harbour Bridge and too long to berth at the International Terminal at Circular Quay. At 7pm Tuesday, the liner was joined by her smaller sister ship, the Queen Elizabeth 2, the two greeting each other with the sound of their foghorns as the QE2 sailed past on her way to Circular Quay.

Where as luck would have it I was due to have share the best part of a bottle or two of crispy white with my Finnish friend. The locals response to the arrival was very refreshing. Full of awe and innocence that the worlds two most famous cruise ships had deigned to pop in to see Sydney. Up close the QE2 looked a bit rusty but I'm sure it is perfectly sea-worthy (remember where you read it first). Apparently there was a huge firework display but we missed that as the QE2 had blocked out the sky. However, I did get to share in the battle for a taxi home afterwards. So, I do feel as though I was a part of the whole historic experience.

That's Sydney for you. A little bit of history every day!



Go to this link to see a video
http://search.bbc.co.uk/cgi-bin/search/results.pl?tab=av&q=queen%20mary&recipe=all&scope=all&edition=d

If only we'd had a bit more of a challenge (part 2) or On days like this I wish I was going in to work tomorrow

International Triangular Series
Australia: 152-8 ( 27.0 overs )
England: 246-8 ( 50.0 overs )
England beat Australia by 34 runs (D/L)
Rain stopped play


England won their first major overseas one-day tournament since 1997 as they beat Australia by 34 runs in the second match of the finals series in Sydney. Paul Collingwood hit 70 in England's 246-8 before Liam Plunkett took three wickets in Australia's top order. Three weather interruptions - and the regular loss of wickets - meant Australia's target was adjusted twice. They ultimately needed 211 from 33 overs and finished on 152-8 from 27, before rain ended play completely. Collingwood, who came into this match after back-to-back centuries, was named man of the finals series after another vital innings.

It was the first time in 14 years that Australia had lost in the finals of their home one-day series - and the first time England have won this particular tournament since 1986-87, when they also clinched the Ashes.

I can't wait until tomorrow. Postmen, shop assistants, school children etc.... Are they going to cop some stick!

If only we'd had a bit more of a challenge (part 1)

International Triangular Series
Australia: 252 ( 48.3 overs )
England: 253-6 ( 49.3 overs )
England beat Australia by 4 wickets

We won, we bloody won...

England completed their first victory over Australia since the 2005 Ashes after Ed Joyce's century in Sydney. Joyce, dropped twice, made 107 from 142 balls to help better by 66 England's previous best of the one-day series. Chasing 293, Australia were bowled out for 200 in 38.5 overs, with Andrew Symonds having retired hurt on 39. Matthew Hayden was top-scorer with 51. Liam Plunkett (3-24) and Sajid Mahmood (2-38) both struck in the first eight balls to cut the hosts to 4-2.

It was the fourth-heaviest defeat inflicted by England on Australia in a one-day match.

And I was there! Can't help but think that if I'd only come out in November!

Whatever happened to Andy?

Warhol? Awol? Ahol?

Evidently Clarkesintown

John Cooper Clarke - The Basement, Circular Quay, Sydney

Bloody gigs, bloody queues, old bloody punks back in the news
bloody hell, it's johnny Clark only booked by some bright spark
who bloody booked him at the Quay, only wished it was bloody free
bloody starts at 10 o'clock, start the evening at the bloody rocks
bloody meet my bloody mate, whose always bloody, bloody late
bloody get into the gig, served by a man in a bloody wig
bloody drink the bloody beer, have to stand at the bloody rear
bloody bloke comes on the stage, bloody langford shows my age
he bloody sings a bloody song, that bloody goes on bloody long
the bloody moment's bloody come, he trips on stage for bloody fun
he bloody still wears punks poetry crown, cos bloody evidently Clarkesintown

Don't worry Pietersen is still in...

Admittedly arriving in Sydney with England 4-0 down in the Ashes series, facing a rampant Australia is perhaps not the finest piece of timing. However, as I rock up to the SCG alongside various other members of the Barmy Army, a small grain of comfort is taken from the fact that KP is at the crease. Maybe, we'll put up a bit more of a fight today.

Well, that lasted all of three balls!

J'Arrive

And there is supposed to be a drought...

Touchdown and it's raining. Proper rain, sheets of the stuff, plummeting down on my tired old head. After 28 hours of travel, here I am (all) washed up on the shores of Sydney harbour and all with less than £30 in my pocket (still that should see me through till Christmas 08).

Tiger heads South

My work here is done!

Every time I see your face I just want to...

SMILE!

We won't be druv (Part 3)

County Championship - Division One:
Nottinghamshire v Sussex
20-09-2006 at Trent Bridge, Day 3 of 4
Sussex beat Nottinghamshire by an innings and 245 runs
Sussex won the toss and decided to bat
Sussex 1st Innings
560 for 5 (127.0 overs)
Nottinghamshire 1st Innings
165 all out (54.2 overs)
Nottinghamshire 2nd Innings
150 all out (27.3 overs)

Sussex complete the double - Nuff said!
P W D L Ba Bo Pts
1 Sussex 16 9 2 5 49 47 242.0
2 Lancashire 16 6 1 9 58 46 224.0
3 Hampshire 16 6 3 7 48 48 207.0
4 Warwickshire 16 6 5 5 42 43 189.0
5 Kent 16 4 4 8 43 44 175.0
6 Yorkshire 16 3 6 7 43 41 154.0
7 Durham 16 4 8 4 39 43 153.5
8 Notts 16 4 7 5 40 37 153.0
9 Middlesex 16 1 7 8 47 42 133.5

Shame about Middlesex!

We won't be druv (Part 2)

It's 5.00 am in the sleepy Devon holiday home that CT is currently making a mess of. Time to get up, get washed, get dressed and get ready for the Taxi. It might well be in the middle of the family holiday but this is important. Sussex are playing at Lords. Taxi arrives at 5.50 and manages to miss the early train by 2 minutes, leaving Tiger with a tricky 50 minutes to negotiate sans seat, coffee, newspaper and anything warm/dry to wear. The train finally arrives 15 minutes late at which point the best laid plans etc start to unravel. The Taunton connection won't wait and the ghastly thought of missing the first couple of hours of play (by which time Sussex will have decimated the Lancs batting line up) looms large. Trouble averted though, as connection arrives late and I make it to Lords with 20 minutes to spare.

However, when talking of arriving late, the various railway companies of Great Britain cannot hold a torch to The Gent. Travelling up from near Lewes compared to my great trek from Devon, The Gent contrived to be a sumptuous 70 minutes behind schedule. Whilst, he battles with his own conscience I slump into my rain soaked seat and prepare myself for action.

Skipper Chris Adams admitted he would have bowled first had he won the toss after a 15-minute delay because of morning rain, with early movement on offer in the air and off the pitch. I also admit that I would have started on Red Stripe if I'd been thinking straight but no, straight into the Champagne it was. Whilst the first glass was being tossed back The Sharks chances took an immediate blow when Tom Smith (ex-Liverpool hard man) made a diving stop at backward point and threw down the wicket to run out Richard Montgomerie. Oh, Bugger!

A gung-ho mixture of dashing bravado and big match nerves on the part of the Sharks batsmen seemingly prevented them from rebuilding effectively from there. Matt Prior flashed three boundaries, including a lofted drive, before spooning a catch off Hogg high in the air to mid-on. Double Bugger!

Grizzly survives two run out chances before Mahmood joined the attack after 12 overs and gains some extra bounce with his second delivery to have him caught at slip. Murray Goodwin cuts a ball that was too short from Chapple and Carl Hopkinson is run out by Cork at mid-off as he fails to ground his bat. Loads of Buggers! More Champagne please.

Robin Martin-Jenkins is unlucky to be dismissed, though, as TV replays showed Chapple's delivery caught RMJ's pad, rather than, bat as it crept through the gate. Murmurs of discontent from the Edrich Stand. Sussex then turn defence into attack. England call-up Michael Yardy (37) and Pakistani Yasir Arafat (37) share a pugnacious seventh-wicket partnership of 56.

Amir Khan's cousin returns to halt the revival as Arafat feathers a catch attempting to cut a slower ball and eventually finishes with 3-16. And the mercenary Kartik justified his selection ahead of veteran Gary Keedy by trapping Yardy lbw to end a 96-ball vigil, then having Wright stumped after a dashing run-a-ball 19. Sussex have definitely missed a trick by not following Lancashires lead and calling up Messrs Ponting, Tendulkar and Lara , because I'm sure they were free this weekend.

As they begin their chase, Lancashire's 12th victory in a Lord's finale seems a formality. By this time the Champagne tent beckoned. The game looked well and truly up. However, a judicious bit of loitering by the bar turned an impending defeat into glorious victory. No sooner had the third cork flown into the sky than we were on our way.

Mal Loye, a perennial thorn in our side, demonstrates the Northerners confidence by slog-sweeping Kirtley for six. Happily Kirters gains revenge with his next legal delivery, though, earning the first of three lbw dismissals in his opening spell. Loye missed a delivery that jagged back off the seam, Nathan Astle was trapped in front with an inswinger and Stuart Law made his displeasure clear at being distracted by the sound of ribald laughter from the nursery end, as he edged onto his pad (Shame).

Mushy then shows what Pakistan have been missing this summer as he bowled 10 consecutive overs of spin and guile, returning figures of 2-19. Opener Mark Chilton was stumped for 20 off the leg-spinner in the 23rd over and Glen Chapple's dismissal rewarded Sussex for putting a short-leg fielder in place in the 25th.

It's time to head back and watch the action live. No sooner had we done that than Lancs started putting up a fight. However, Luke Wright then had Luke Sutton caught hooking a short ball to midwicket in an expensive first spell. Fortunately, he did well in the late overs, making Kyle Hogg (28) his second victim after a gritty stand of 58 with Cork.

It looked as though Cork might yet see the red rose county to an improbable win. He hit an unbeaten 35 but ran out of partners as Kirtley tied up victory with 16 balls to spare, pretty much as predicted by Tiger’s dream. On a pitch that helped the bowlers throughout, Kirtley finished with 5-27 - with all his victims out lbw - to take the man of the match award. Cue massed celebrations, much hugging and gentlemanly handshakes. As the Lancastrians headed out of Lords, Grizzly lifted the cup to a raucous rendition of “Good Old Sussex by the Sea”. Fireworks lit up the grey London skies and a tear or two of joy was shed as the mighty Sussex went doo-lally!

After what seems like an age I finally head back to Paddington. What happened on the journey back to Bigbury-on-Sea is still being dissected by criminal psychologists and therefore cannot be released to the public at this time. Suffice to say when Tiger finally arrived home it was either very, very late or very, very early. Depending entirely on your perspective… which by this stage was very, very blurred!

We won't be druv (Part 1)

C&G Trophy final, Lord's: Sussex 172 (47.1 overs) beat Lancashire 157 (47.2 overs) by 15 runs


We're the men from Sussex, Sussex by the Sea.
We plough and sow and reap and mow,
And useful men are we;
And when you go to Sussex,
Whoever you may be,
You may tell them all that we stand or fall
For Sussex by the Sea !
Oh Sussex, Sussex by the Sea !
Good old Sussex by the Sea !
You may tell them all that we stand or fall,
For Sussex by the Sea

"Terror Panic at 35,000 feet"

Following the report in todays Evening Standard I would like to hastily rewrite my previous post as obviously Robert Mendick, Chief Reporter knows far more about it than me. I was only on the plane, I mean what exactly do I know. Passenger revolt, my arse!

Tiger Flight BA179

You see! You shouldn't joke about these things. No sooner are you settled into your seat, awaiting the cheese & chive flavoured pretzels when all of a sudden a phone rings.

Nothing too unusual about that you might think, except when it happens two minutes after take-off on a flight out of Heathrow during the height of a major security alert. Cue mild hysteria and over-reaction by rows 25- 37. The other slightly disturbing thing was that after deciding not to answer it, apparently Mr A Bomber wasn't booked on our flght, it was then decided to smother it with pillows and blankets - utterly brilliant, in fact a totally inspired response!

Once the cunning terrorist (or forgetful idiot) foiling ruse had been undertaken, it was then followed by a Milliganesque bout of "What are we going to do now?" by all and sundry. This then seemingly led us to cruise at about 4 mph and 15ft while the Captain and 'The Company' decided what to do next. Break out the Vodka? Sing a few rousing hymns to cheer everyone up? Dish out the prayer mats? No! What we'll do is hand out bags of mixed nuts. All that we needed was a packet of Bensons, a pint of mild and bitter and a quick quiz and the scene would have been perfect. With the Captain asking the killer tie-break question - How tall is Big Ben? Answer about 6ft 6"

So, once the nuts were sorted out (a popular move, with all but the nut allergy sufferers i.e. me). What to do next involved heading for Shannon airport. BA didn't fancy making a mess over Wales apparently - (insert own gag here). Then better still not wishing to cause a scene over Ireland' (first time for everything) the instruction came to fly on out over the Atlantic, only then to inform the plucky souls of flight BA 179 that actually we really ought to head back. More out of deference to the bloke who was obviously very keen to speak to someone on the plane. And we all know about steep 'roaming' charges... The only downside to this was the fact that we had loads of fuel on board so that needed to be dumped before headiing back to terra firma. The sight of Kerosene being chucked willy-nilly into the Atlantic just about topped the whole experience off. Fly tipping in its truest form!

So, some four + hours after boarding Tiger disembarked to be greeted by the sight of three BA employees being beseiged by over a hundred indignant passengers. At this stage CT confesses to taking a backseat, eating a crunchie and trying to work out how to turn the whole thing to his advantage - Could three days in a hotel with mini-bar, a couple of good books and no mobile phone be the answer?

Sadly, the options were limited, fly out in 2 hours perhaps, with no luggage or hang around Heathrow until Tuesday. Book a room at the Hilton and wait for luggage to arrive and dust to settle. Well, best laid plans etc. No room at the Inn, isn't that how the whole of this thing started? Therefore only thing for it. Back to North London and back to the loft in about 30 minutes flat, where the air is cleanish, the rain wet certainly, the Vodka plentiful and cheese and chive pretzels are the only thing on the menu.

Sod the footie, Fidel's fit!

Tiger was just about to sulk his way through a couple of generous SB's when some top news flickered across the Muswell Hill radar (via terminal 4). A state-controlled newspaper in Cuba has published the first photographs of President Fidel Castro since he had surgery two weeks ago. The paper Juventud Rebelde also carried an 80th birthday message from President Castro, saying he was recovering but warning Cubans to be ready for "adverse news" - Thus predicting the result from the Millenium stadium!

He has not been seen since he handed power temporarily to his brother. Well, the test match has been on and you know the weather has been pretty good. Official birthday celebrations were cancelled but Havana held a giant concert on Saturday. (Despite the obvious disappointment of Fidel's non-appearance thankfully the crowd didn't have to suffer any of Razorshite, Radiohead, Babyshambles or Kasabian!)

The pictures released by the Juventud Rebelde newspaper show President Castro speaking on the phone and holding Saturday's edition of the Communist Party newspaper Granma, in a fairly cool move to show the pictures are current. From a style point of view he looked well natty in his Adidas Cuba tracksuit.

In his statement, President Castro said his health had improved considerably but cautioned that his recovery would not be quick, especially after a few more Cubra Libre's than the Doctor ordered.

"I ask you all to be optimistic and at the same time to be ready to face any adverse news," the statement said. It followed up with a four hour critique of Chelsea's somewhat lacklustre perfomance against Liverpool. The key issues were the brutal intimidation of Michael Ballack by the running dog lackeys of American imperialism and the real need for a decent left back.

He thanked Cubans for their loyal support and said that on the day of his birthday, 13 August, he "felt very happy with our pre-season form, despite todays reversal" but he warned against complacency.

In a report of a visit to the Cuban president's bedside, the paper suggested Mr Castro was "firm like a caguairan" - likening Cuba's revolutionary leader to a sturdy tropical hardwood tree. The paper also compared him to WG Grace and highlighted his career batting average of 100.00 as being bettered only by that of V.I.Lenin 122.25. No comment was made of his somewhat disappointing performance with the ball since 1996, when he shortened his run and experimented with what can only be described as dibby-dobby medium pace, albeit still producing the occasional wicket taking snorter!

Recounting the observations of a (made up by the western press) unidientified visitor, President Castro was said to be "up and about, like someone anticipating new victories". Quite obviously saving himself for the new premiership season.

Neither President Castro nor his brother, Geoff, have been seen in public for the past fortnight, fuelling speculation both in Cuba and in Florida, home to many Cuban exiles, about who is in charge. Well, Tiger thinks it is pretty obvious. Jose!

The BBC's Stephen Gibbs in Havana says Sunday's pictures are clearly aimed at conveying a message of continuity to the Cuban people. Well. Stephen Gibbs would say that wouldn't he - twat!

President Fidel Castro became Cuban president 47 years ago after leading the overthrow of American funded pimp Fulgencio Batista who was booted out of town like the snivelling Derby County fan that he was. President Castro is one of the world's longest-ruling leaders, has outlasted nine US presidents and it doesn't matter which team you support. You've got to admit that, that is cool!

Viva La revolucion! Up the blues! Long Live Fidel!

Watching the blues lose again...

A couple of dry whites into the afternoon, CT finds himself at Heathrow - Terminal 4. The Bomb squad, God squad and Osgood all thrown into the mix. Tiger is heading off to NYC for a couple of days of exceptionally hard graft but before he does so. He has to find a way of keeping up with the mighty blues against the dirty reds. No sooner has he sat down than bad news seeps through. The Scousers are 2-1 up via the joys of t'Internet. 10 minutes to go and we are doomed to an early season hiccup.... That being said Chelsea are going to struggle to retain the title this year. Too many good players out of the club and not enough resource across the squad to keep it ticking over. Oh, well it is only football and what does it matter?

What kind of damn fool question is that?

Tiger heads off through gate 1c cursing the result, the balance of the team and the impending 3 days in NYC!

In the jungle

Tiger meets Scritti Politti in an Arthouse

Having waited over 25 years since first hearing the honey soaked tones of Scritti Politti's Green Gartside... I found myself standing in the warmth of an August evening in the ground of the Tate Britain, clutching a modest glass of Chablis and hoping and praying that a) I hadn't missed them, b) they'd turn up and C) the previous poor review I had read was not a true reflection of what was to come. To my absolute delight; I hadn't, they did and it wasn't.

Double G & The Traitorous 3 + 2, not so much hit the stage but found themselves there having been ushered on by some sweet reggae grooves. A brief hiatus ensued whilst Green tried to get his foot peddles working and then Boom! Into a set mainly plucked gently from White Bread, Black Beer. In particular E Eleventh Nuts and After Six sounded even better live. The band fell into a solid natural groove and the evening just sped by as shooting stars flew overhead.

The Boom Boom Bap, a corking couple of Hip Hop covers then The Sweetest Girl as a lovely little skank (with the sweetest girl on bass - I believe the word is YOWSAH!). A beautiful red flag drenched Robin Hood, all the way through to finishing off with Woodbeez (Pray like Aretha Franklin). And above it all that voice, maturing over the last 25 Years - A sweet tender thing of real beauty. As the final ker-ching of Woodbeez echoed out across the Thames, the crowd gently slipped away into the swirl of a beautiful evening and the last sip of Chablis washed down a truly fantastic night. Another 25 years, I think not. I think not indeed.

The day Tiger went to the World Cup

Lunchtime in Frankfurt, leaning gently into a second bottle of crispy white. The old town streets full of Mexican families lapping up the sun, Paraguayan supporters demolishing the biggest pile of chips that you ever did see and English fans scurrying from bar to bar determined to drink another German city dry.

This is the World Cup Semi-Final day and 8 hours from kick-off and the tension is starting to build. Guido, the Italian waiter mutters "Forza Italia" under his breath at every opportunity, whilst Hans his boss urges us to support the hosts. Tiger feigns impartiality with the dreaded words "We are just fans of World football mate!". Both seem happy as Tiger discharges the remnants of the last glass of the third bottle of a cheeky little Chablis and head back. In the car bets are taken.

At the Hotel one of our party is missing, confined to his bed with little more than a wet flannel to save him from a raging fever. Sympathy abounds, our taxi awaits and with Mehmet (Turkeys first ever GP driver) at the wheel, we're off! Dortmund here we come!!

Ten minutes later, allowing for a couple of wrong turns (Mehmet's Co-pilot was not the smartest of chaps), we arrive. The Co-pilot pays the man and then spends four hours haggling over where to meet after the match. Whilst this great meeting of minds takes place, Tiger takes in the moment. The stadium surrounds are awash with thousands of home fans enveloped in newly liberated Bundesflagge. Pockets of Azzurri survey the scene like a fox outside the chicken run. A smattering of delightfully trollied sons of Albion weave their way through the crowds like Peter Crouch through a Brazilian defence (i.e. barging straight through, falling over and being stared at in utter disbelief).

It has to be said that Tiger is not a complete stranger to the world of corporate entertainment. However, even Tiger was staggered at the oppulence of the FIFA corporate village (more like a futuristic space settlement). Is a jacuzzi really necessary? Does every discerning footie fan really need a casino on site? As for full scale flight simulators, well we ask you? Despite all of this frippery, they did serve a fine array of food and more essentially the WW oppoprtunities were plentiful.

After a swift replenishment. Into the impressively long-named stadium and to our seats, which we proceed to stand on for the whole 120 minutes. From kick-off to final whistle the quality of the football is astounding. No aimless hoofing to the 'big fella up front', no misplaced passes or bad first touches. Just quality control, intelligent running and beautifully finessed passing and probing attacks. All at extreme pace. It was a display of real verve and style by both sides and the referee was even better! Ballack (supposedly unfit and slated by the press) gliding between his own defence and the Italian back four prompting the Germans forward. Whilst in response the Azzurri were driven on by the gutsy Gattuso and the peerless priceless Pirlo (Gawd bless ya Mr Keating!).

Penalties looming and a frenzied Italian surge leading to the sublime moment. Lehmann (of the big hands, big head and big ego) kept his team in it until the moment that silences the length and breadth of Deutschland. Fabio Grosso curled a wonderful shot around the outstretched grasp of the despairing Gooner. Cue large scale in-take of breath in the stadium and a small scale explosion of delight in block 2, row 7 seat 136. The true blue colours of the Crouch End Ultra exploded in delirium. "You're not singing anymore...", "I'm going home in a German ambulance", "Come on you Blues" all muttered underneath the breath a la Guido. The Routemaster goal (i.e. wait ages and two come at once - I refuse to call it The BendyBus goal) is driven home by Del Piero. The Italians go wild, the Germans go home and Tiger goes back to the bar .

Following much post match analysis, the handing over of many Euros to the Ultra and a smattering of crispies. We depart to find Mehmet (who is fresh from breaking the Frankfurt-Dortmund land speed record). Despite the fine endeavours of the Co-Pilot, Mehmet is missing, presumably negotiating his next Indy 500 drive. Tiger retires to a Budweiser sponsors party - Well, to tell the truth, Tiger distracted two of the surly bouncer chappies, diverted attention as the team plunged into the midst of the wake. After a couple of Budweisers the need for an alcoholic drink came on strong. Fortunately, Mehmet arrived and before we'd done our seatbelts up we are back in the relative safety of our hotel bar. One more for the Strasse and then off to bed.

Tomorrow has already begun. The sun is already starting to peer round the corners of the curtains in the spartan bedroom. Sitting on the bed Tiger nurses a gentle Italian whilst trying to work out how to get BBC 24 on the tv. All these subtitles are ruining the plot. What a day, what a night, what a match. What on earth are we going to do with the dead body in room 512?