Ramadine and Valentine ...

Come on then all you nu-age cricket lovers who sang that calypso with the line ...

"With them two pal of mine, Ramadine and Valentine"

You don't know? Well why not ask Kevin Everett or Bonnie Razzil as they seem to be liking the sound of leather on willow.

It seems that the Aussies are creeping back into the match. Whatever Mr Cooksley thinks, 359 - 6 isn't a great score on this pitch.

It's the start of the Premier League tomorrow. A trip up to Sunderland sees us far away from home on this first Saturday. At least it's a night out on the raz. Drowning ones sorrows after watching our 4-5-1 huff and puff and failing to blow the house down. If you want an indepth rundown on the first match go read the Official Site, or All Quiet, or Frankie or Valley James. I can't really be bothered to talk about whether Bent will struggle as a lone gunman, whether we should put Dennis upfront to complement Bent, whether we need a new centre half, why we are wearing white ... or whether the best form of transport is plane, train or automobile.

And as for Fantasy Football ... you are definitely taking the piss.

It all ends tonight. Yep Big Brother crawls over the finishing line, like the proverbial damp squib. Eugene took the money, like anybody would have said NO ... get over yourself, Makosi is an actress, bothered, wateva, loser, wannabe, Craig is still biatching for England ... did you see his mother blame editing for his portrayal as an idjut? And Kinga in that cheerleaders outfit ... whooosh, it's the hottest day of the year.

Oh, I'm still having problems getting my sofa. I'll be writting about this next week ... it should give some of you a laugh.

My tune of the day: Luv 4 2 - Michael Watford