Sucking heartily on life's half-time oranges

Monday, 23 May 2011

Match of the Day = Action Thriller (Rated 15, with some blood and mild peril))

Blimey, that was the most emotional and exciting Match of the Day ever, even for a neutral supporter of the Prem like me. Kudos to the producers for choosing to splice together the five big relegation battles, giving us 40 minutes of high-voltage, Bourne-style action (with Charlie Adam as Jason B), though it was slightly confusing given the rout of teams beginning with W and B. I wanted Wigan and Blackburn, perpetually-dull blue teams, to go down, not the plucky tangeriney ones. In the end, fate offered the trapdoor to one of each hue, and down went Blackpool and Birmingham, mixing up with some claret to no doubt create some swampy brown goo to coat the Championship with. Poor sausages.

A few MOTD awards to see off the season!

Cliché of the Day: Every single word that came out of Alan Hansen's gob: his choice of phrase is as lazy as his drawl. The phenomenal atmosphere and tension of the relegation-splice was utterly punctured by Al's volley of hackneyed lines which always seem to fall into the same end of sentence: 'There was drama, there was tension, there was excitement, the depths of despair, there was pace, strength, integrity, strong teeth, a glossy coat, etc etc'.

Faint Praise of the Day: Gary Lineker calling Blackpool 'the entertainers of the season', like they were a canteloupe-coloured court jester, doing silly dances and fey songs in front of the Premier League's Big Four, or Three, or Six, or whatever it is.

Movement of the Day: There was a lot of bouncing: teams ricocheted up and down the table more quickly than the fashion for skinny jeans with every new goal; Manchester United toyed with Blackpool's hopes and dreams like a tennis ball on their nonchalantly-buoyed racket - you always knew they'd sink 'em eventually; and Roberto Martinez was tossed up into champagney spume by his players.

Eyebrow of the Day: Carlo Ancelotti's left one, which will now be lost for good, having wiggled right off his forehead in surprise at being fired by the Russian Overlord and General Nincompoop. Ridiculous. You can't win EVERYTHING every year! (Oh. Unless you're Alex Ferguson of course).

Shirtwatch: Alan Shearer is not capable of turning out in a shirt without furbelow. Last night his bedizenment was an irritating pocket detail and black lining. NO, Alan! You will never got into FANTASTIC MAN magazine looking like that!

The conclusion of much of this, and I certainly read it elsewhere, not least the Guardian's nominations for 'gripe of the season' in their end-of-season poll, that MOTD really needs a shake-up. It needs more Lee Dixon, more Gabby Logan, and less of just about everything else in its unbearably smug, male-centric universe. SORT it, Beeb!

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