Wet Wet Wet

What a flippin' diluvian weekend. Just as well the WWFC boys have been resting upon both a) their laurels after two whole triumphant wins and b) their arses, sitting out the FA Cup 2nd round games (pah! who needs the FA Cup anyway...) and thus not having to boinnng all over the pitch like the Princess And The Pea on her mattresses, as did many a Prem player all weekend....

Match of the Day awards:

Lookeylikey of the Day: Fulham's Roy Hodgson and the cyclist kid from French animated film 'Belleville Rendez-Vous'; it's all in the nose, I promise you!:Moniker of the Day That Andy Desperately Wishes He Had: Mario Melchiot, sounding like a sexy but evil prince in a saccharine Disney film.

Most Aesthetically Pleasing Player of the Day: Wigan's Hugo Rodallega, fervently thanking god not for his apple-y cheekbones but for the goal he scored after last week's Super-Drub by Spurs.

Goal of the Day: Jimmy Bullard, who sports a classic '70's-midfielding-mucker sort of look, and his equaliser for Hull, whom I have a massive soft spot for. Mostly for his immaculately-staged recreation of Phil Brown's classic finger-jab (when he made his team sit in a circle at half-time like naughty primary children, admonishing them in front of the whole ground) for his celebration.

Quote of the Day: 'Goals change games' says Burnley manager Owen Coyle, causing a rabbit-in-headlights epiphany for me, who thought the chaps just dashed around pushing each other over and scuffing their knees in an effort to win points...

Hair Here

Here is Gareth Ainsworth, brought in by the gaffer and one of those real-live honest journeymen: before his long stint at QPR he trod the turf at Wimbledon (the old school version), Port Vale, Lincoln, Cardiff and more. He is WWFC's new no. 31 and a fizzy little fella if ever there was one, catching the eye at the Millwall game with his feisty turns down the right wing. He made a real difference in our first win in three millennia or whatever it was, and won man of the match in YES! our next win on Tuesday at home against Brentford. We have now risen to third from bottom, which feels as lofty as sitting on a little heavenly cloud strumming an Irish harp and eating manna. Gareth even gave us a classic quote on the WWFC website to rival Alan Green's one about 'the rush of Seamen', saying cheerfully after his busy few days on the pitch: 'I'm as stiff as a board!'. Glad to know he enjoys it to such lengths. Etc. BUT I have one problem with Gareth and that is his hair. As any fool know, men + short hair = lovely; men + long hair = AESTHETIC DISASTER OF EPIC PROPORTIONS (there are two exceptions to the rule: Viggo Mortensen in the Lord of the Rings movies and Torres, rrrr...). Poor Gareth is no Fernando and with his attempt at the Italian stallion (circa 1995) is only holding himself back. Pray, compare his current look with one, though admittedly a bit of a teddy-boy-for-the-noughties sort of vibe, of old to the right, to see my point aptly proved.

P.S. Chairboys Gasroom readers will no doubt disapprove of this sort of thing, but give over, I am a GIRL! My thanks to those nice chaps on correcting my stats gaffs which are being duly corrected. I don't have time to get all my facts right as I'm usually doing my nails and dribbling all over shots of Torres. Arf.

Song Sung Blue*

I made the most of the proximity of my Saturday workplace to South East London's most notorious ground to mad-dash to The Den for WWFC vs Millwall, taking along Andy and our mate Steve**, and making it to our seats 10 mins into the match. My dad was quite apoplectic when he heard I was off to the Den of Iniquity, fearing I would be probably maimed, if not killed, by rabid, teeth-knashing Millwall fans, thus is their (rather retro, I'd say) reputation. It was of course all sweetness and light, though a hardcore element in the WWFC massive tried their best to rile the home crowd with unceasing spleneticisms from the lofty safety of our away terrace. Saying the words 'hardcore element' and 'WWFC' in the same sentence is utterly hilarious: I'd already warned Steve, a League One virgin, that the support would be its usually muted self, what with our Home Counties demeanour and our sinking-stone form (last result, which I couldn't bear to blog about: Huddersfield 6, WWFC 0. AGH!); but NO! there was in fact a constant soundtrack of ye olde football favourites from us lot, including:

'YELLOWS! YELLOWS!' Moronic away kit-related chant for initial support, desperately hoping we wouldn't go belly-up in the first few mins.

'WE LOVE YOU WYCOMBE, WE DO, etc' when we managed to go into half-time with 0-0, and actually looking like Gary Waddock has taught them a thing or two about man-marking.

'RHUBARB RHUBARB BOING BOING! The surreal old favourite, once Chris Westwood headed in our first goal for 1-0 up.

'WE. ARE . STAYING. UP YES WE ARE STAYING UP' soon turned, possibly a leetle optimistically into 'WE'RE GONNA WIN THE LEAGUE!' as we scored a 2nd goal, courtesy of returning hero, Kevin 'heavens to!' Betsy.

DAMBUSTERS THEME TUNE, ENDING IN 'WE ALL FUCKING HATE SLOUGH!!' - Once 2-0 up, and seemingly staying that way what with Millwall getting no leeway, the old, now totally defunct (we haven't been in the same league as Slough FC since 1993) rivalrous ditties came out...

So yes, we won our first away game since April, Millwall lost their first home game since March, and we all squeezed onto the sweaty train to London Bride very, very happy that we are now not at the bottom of the League. Hoo-rah.

I cannot resist a few awards for last night's MOTD2:

Quote of the Day: 'In a football game, you're gonna win, you're gonna draw, you're gonna lose' Wigan's Roberto Martinez, manfully plumbing the depths for something useful to say. Yes, dear Roberto, but NOT LOSE 9-1!!!!!!

Hairstyle Error of the Day: Wigan's Paul Scharner, keeping up his outlandish hair colour choices in utterly dreadful two-tone affair, as if he'd fallen on his side into a bucket of boot polish.

SHIRTWATCH: I didn't know what to be more horrified by: Robbie Savage's ever-flouncy girl-mane or the shiny pocket detail on his 'Welsh mafia' look jacket. Ouch.

*Song Sung Blue by Neil Diamond

**STEVE STATS:

Steve: 33, lives in Greenwich, long-time buddy of husband's

Place of birth: Cambridge

Team supported: Chelsea

First match ever seen: He says 'an Ipswich game with my dad, in about 1983, when they were good'.

Every Saturday is Ladies' Day OR A Game of Two Halves

So I was in the heart of deepest darkest Kent, performing avant-garde vocal improvisations in a very posh barn, as you do, thus missing MOTD2's highly relevant (to me at least if no-one else, flying the flags for the two Big F's: Footy and Feminism) feature on Ladies' Day at Burnley. I hear from my husband (a member of the Facebook Group Men For Feminism, good lad) that the segment was a rather chortling affair trading on the crusty old chestnut that Girls Don't Like Football.

Investigating further, Ladies' Day - also dished out annually at the likes of Aberdeen FC, Hartlepool United and Stenhousemiur - is the chance for the lasses to be VIP guests at Turf Moor, and pay £60 to be pampered at the nail bar and pop-up hairdressers, eat fine food and toast their gleamingly buxom'ed selves with some pink champagne. Hilarious! Alastair Campbell, a Burnley FC blogger as well as ex-spin doc supremo, mentions how the Ladies were all decked out in their wedding-guest finest for the match against Hull, a fixture about as glamorous as a night out at 'Posh Nightclub' (not kidding. That's actually the name of a club in Burnley. I looked it up.) after an all-you-can-eat-curry-buffet and six Archer's and lemonades. God bless players Chris McCann and Steve Jones, pictured being hugged at last year's Ladies' Day on Burnley's website: they look like terrified rookie gigolos on their first job in a women-only prison.

The website promises 'a day to remember' but it seems to me that the club are trying rather desperately to pad the day out with all manner of fluffy treats and cheaply fizzy delights in order to hide the lumbering white elephant in the room: the FOOTBALL, innit!! If the clubs are trying to tempt the Other Halves into coming to more matches, they're shooting themselves in the foot; woebetide the high-heeled stampede when said VIPs come to another game to be rained on, frozen, subjected to probably mostly rubbish football, a noisy tannoy and absolutely NO manicures, black tapenade or special Aftershaved Hugging Appearances by t'lads. REAL ladies, I have to break to Burnley, Aberdeen et al, are already there. They pay up every week like all the chaps to scream, swear, rib all players and officials, scoff disgusting hot dogs and insipid tea, and watch the bleedin' game. As much as they'd LIKE to be giving Kevin Davies a spot of slap and tickle, they have to settle with admiring (or more than often, not) squinting at them from the high stand in the corner.

Stoke City do the right kind of Ladies' Day, mind. It's a day of trials for women at their Girls' Centre of Excellence. Brownie points to the Potters!

P.S. Hartlepool put on their Ladies' Day to raise money for Breast Cancer Awareness. Obviously this is ok really, retro gender values or no.