There are times in your life where you come across something or a situation so profound, it just stuns you. It’s as if Captain James T. Kirk had just blasted you with his photon laser pistol thingamajig and you’re stuck in your tracks.
But then some days, you merely bump into something SO stupid and immature, it actually makes you laugh. You don’t really want to laugh because your mind keeps reminding you, this is stupid, this is childish but you laugh anyway.
The picture was taken in the toilet (obviously!) of the local Starbucks. To those of you who aren’t actually eagle-eyed, here’s what the sign says:
Please only put toilet tissue down the toilet
And, the Banksy-esque reply:
What about the poo?
Classic. I literally pissed myself laughing. Indeed, genius does come in various guises.
I won’t lie. I’m not one those Liverpool fans that can honestly say, hand on heart that they’ve supported the club since they were 4 feet tall with everyone in the family being a fan. My route was the unorthodox route for most but seemingly quite natural if you were a young man growing up in tropical Malaysia.
I went to school not having an affinity with any particular football club. I just enjoyed watching football and always rooted for the underdog. It was a lot more fun. Serie A football was shown on Malaysian television back then. So, instead of being a glory-hunter and pinning my allegiance to AC Milan, I went for a while with their city rivals, Internazionale who just couldn't win anything. Napoli was out of the question. I didn’t like Maradona. I didn’t know why though. Maybe his shorts were too short or something and he constantly looked like one of his ass cheeks were about to creep out, forever ruining my innocence. Yeah, something along those lines.
As I grew up, the English Championship (and later the Premiership) began to regain its popularity among football fans in the country. And the start of the Premiership saw the dawn of Manchester United’s rise. It was easy for me. United was Goliath and I didn’t want anything to do with it. I was firmly entrenched in the ABU (Anything But United) camp. A Dalglish-led Blackburn looked promising as an option with their blue and white McEwan’s Lager shirts but I just didn’t connect with the Rovers.
Then, in 1994, Oasis released Definitely Maybe which was quickly followed by (What’s the Story) Morning Glory. I was hooked on the band. The Gallaghers were mad into Manchester City and to this day, the City jersey has been the only other English football shirt that I’ve worn other than Liverpool’s.
I never took a liking to City though and their shirt was always worn as a tribute to Oasis rather than to the club itself.
Soon after, Arsenal introduced their new manager. He was a strange looking fellow. He had glasses that were too big for his head, his suit made him look like one of MC Hammer’s back-up dancers and to top it off, he’s last club was Nagoya Grampus 8, who no one had previously heard of. What could this guy possibly have to offer? Little was I (or anyone else for that matter) to know that this man would almost single-handedly crash the United party and make Alex Ferguson’s life a misery over the next two years.
The Gunners played some fantastic football even back then and I was more than impressed. Fortunately, by that time, I was in college and was surrounded by Liverpool fans. Proper ones too. They taught me all about Liverpool’s history and traditions. Not that I didn’t know them already but more as gentle reminders to nudge me on to their side. It must have had some sort of influence on me in the end but if I were to pick a defining moment where my allegiance to Liverpool was set in stone, it would be that night (or was it morning?) in 1999.
To be continued. Liverpool FC and I: Mamak Knows Best
As I was riding back home from work a few days ago, I just realised that I don't have any night pics of my Vespa. So, as the traffic was (strangely) light enough that evening, I decided to stop on the side of the road and snap a pic on the mobile.
Coincidentally, the same spot is where the all-new Dublin City Centre speed limit begins. The speed (if you can call it that now) limit, which is set at a ludicrously low 30 kmh (you read right: kmh NOT mph) officially came into place today.
Seemingly, Dublin City Council decided to introduce the limit because: dangerous and inappropriate speed is contributing to road fatalities. So, it looks like the Council's own research shows that Dangerous and Inappropriate speed is the main factor i.e. NOT speed itself. Duh?!?
I just think it's another sly way for the Government to balance their books in these recessionary times...
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