So, Fatima Whitbread is in the jungle, eh? The mention of that marvellous name certainly brings back fond memories. Is there a man in the land over the age of 40 who can hear the name Fatima Whitbread and not immediately think of a cricket ball? A very fine joke indeed, but definitely not fit for publication. Those were the days mind, when Britain reigned supreme in the gentle art of female spear throwing, with our two girls battling ferociously with two of the legion of nearly men of East German athletics, the redoubtable Petra Felke and the superbly named Beata Koch. Which is nearly as good a name as old Bernt Hass at Sunderland in Reidy's day, but I digress. The story goes that Petra and Beata were always beautifully close shaven, but maybe not where you would expect.
Never mind, however butch the opposition, there were Fatima and Tessa striking a blow for femininity and at the top of their game, chucking the large arrows for all they were worth, not unlike an Olympic replay of Zulu; Michael Caine could only watch from behind the sofa while whistling Men of Harlech, or so I heard. And, which adds more spice to the story, by all accounts they would have gladly hurled those javelins at each other given half the chance. It certainly added interest, which was badly needed, to dear old Ron Pickering's commentary. Seems Tessa thought Fatima was getting an unfair leg up from a top man in the Athletics world at the time, due to the closeness of their, ahem, coaching relationship, and she didn't like it; Tessa that is, Fatima personally was all in favour of the afore mentioned leg up; in fact, dear reader, she married him.
Anyway, two very fine athletes, with superb posterior muscleature, which Fatima in particular was always keen to display to best advantage, a conceit she continues to this day, which will worry Ant or Dec, them not exactly being of the butch persuasion themselves, and who brought honour to themselves and their country, Fatima and Tess I mean not the little Geordie boys, do pay attention, and we thank them for it. And who buried the hatchet some time ago, but luckily not quite in each other.
That should just about stave off the libel lawyers, and I haven't even mentioned Freddie Starr....
But back to matters football, has the decline and fall of the house of RCA been somewhat overstated? Is it Alright Now? Little 70's rock allusion for you there, name that band, answers on the chapel noticeboard please. Too easy, but yes, maybe the tide has turned a bit. Good win over Bishops that finished not far short of midnight, then a solid win at the Roofers, often a nemesis for our lads, so progress again. And that makes it a barely believable nine wins away from home in the league already, fantastic, if only I got to see them. Form in the league at Meadow Park has been not quite so impressive though, we certainly got gupped off the Spenny boys, with the Rasher chappie rubbing salt into the wound by getting man of the match, but I still can't fathom leaving Ryhope to travel all the way to Spennymoor every week for the mere pittance of petrol money he will be getting...
And the old revolving door has made a reappearance in response to the dip in form, hero to zero and on your way to the wilds of Durham or Northumberland in the blink of an eye. Ruthless ain't in it. Behind that cuddly and soft spoken exterior...
So, onwards and upwards and whether it is better to Evo-stik or not to Evo-stik is still the question, or might be if progress continues. Not a substance I knew was still in common use, can't even remember what you stick it with, or whether it was any good, it was strictly drawing pins into the plaster in our old dwelling. Could have caused structural damage if the house had any structure; Blimey, it's warmer where I am now....