Incidentally...

Is this the worst timing for a Christmas book release ever?

Brand and hail hail Barry O'Bama

When those glorious gazelles and fine purveyors of pop Girls Aloud confessed that they were unable to converse in French and as a consequence would let the funky music do the talking instead, it resonated at Kristalseventeen. Your humble correspondent can barely speak English and a result, has a tendency to let this blog talk on its behalf.

In another music led comparison, on the title track of their 2003 comeback album ‘Strays’, Jane’s Addiction’s Perry Farrell admitted that he gets by on his personality. Another gangly sex insect in the form of Russell Brand seems to do likewise. In the aftermath of the Andrew Sachs prank call chaos, it seems that your personality will only get you so far.

If you haven’t heard the broadcast that has caused all the fuss, the enduring conclusion you may come to is that throughout Brand just isn’t funny. Which makes you think, was he ever that amusing in the first place? The phalanx of vehicles that Channel 4 have created for him to fit his persona have never worked and the most recent effort ‘Ponderland’, a series of opinions via video clips is a format so tired that even Lenny Henry had beat him to it in the shape of the execrable ‘LennyHenry.tv’ on BBC1.

Brand is undoubtedly talented, his verbal dexterity and instantaneously sharp analysis on ‘Big Brother’s Big Mouth’, the show that brought him to the forefront of media attention admittedly was at times utterly hilarious and genuinely entertaining. So there actually is something decent going on under that bouffant hairdo. He must realise that he is at his most cutting and yes, funny, when commenting on current events. He surely is also intelligent enough appreciate the irony that he and Jonathan Ross have been involved in a furore with enough material for an entirely new stand up show and that it is most unfortunate for this truly rock ‘n’ roll comedian that he is unable to comment on it without causing more upset than he and Mr Ross have already made.


Republican Presidential candidate John McCain’s personality however, has never really been in doubt. Touting himself as a straight talking maverick underdog, it is even more dismaying to see the 72 year old add another string to his shop damaged bow by taking on the mantle of a flopsweat drenched amateur stand up comedian. His feeble gags in the direction of Barack Obama’s mid-week thirty minute campaign advertisement were neither consise, statesmanlike or more relevantly, presidential.

All that he achieved in uttering these barbs was to rubber stamp the already widely held belief that the septuagenarian Senator of Arizona is not fit to take over from the current simian in charge of the White House and is better suited to an early retirement as the man who collects and exchanges the shoes at a bowling alley, where the clientele is made up exclusively of children’s party clowns.

There is no doubt in this blog’s mind that in two days time the Leader of the Free World will be a black man and it is relishing the gradual seismic shift within the whole of the world’s political landscape that such an event will effect. These will be truly thrilling times and this writer will be partying in a manner benefiting Scotland winning the World Cup on November 4th and into the 5th should the what must surely be inevitable occur.

Begone Joe The Plumber imposters, death to moose hunting creationist pro-lifer hockey moms, go to hell so-called war hero nine house owning Grand Old Party relics and shame on the Westboro Baptist Church for good measure.

Welcome to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Mr Obama.

2012 then is it?

 "Goat any Monster Munch?" "No, Boydy" "Right, f__ yeez then, um no' playin''"


The feel good factor that resided within the Scotland camp has well and truly left the building with Oily George's erratic tenure as the gaffer now has a lived in nameless dread.

To be fair to Surly Burley, Chris Iwelumo's Ronny Rosenthal-esque sitter was not his fault. Perhaps putting Kris Boyd on instead was the answer. We will never know. 

South Africa 2010 will take place without a Caledonian presence and maybe we all knew that after the Macedonia game.  

Boyd's petulance in his self-imposed hiatus does no-one any favours. As the blog made quite clear in the past, once you leave, you are never allowed back. The blue shirt you put on says Scotland and not George Burley. He should never be permitted to play for us again.

Will Boyd refuse to play under Walter Smith at Rangers, where he is also a habitual bench warmer? The answer to that query is the same response to "Will we break our twelve year absence from international tournaments and take our place among the football elite in the next World Cup?"

This is a shambles of Gordon Smith's own making and if Burley gets a picture of a Spitfire then it surely also is a case of "And Smith Must Go".

This will give you THE FEAR

It is not recommended to watch this whilst hungover.

Join the dots

The sloth-like nature of this blog wreaks havoc and a stronger burst of radio silence than planned has emerged. Let's move on.

As well a famine in trophies at St James' Park, logic has long been missing in the Toon and the replacement of Kevin Keegan (absence from football management: 3 years) with Joe Kinnear (absence from football management: 4 years) as Newcastle United custodian illustrates both trends are set to continue.

Only the Magpies could appoint a temporary manager that has a two-match touchline ban on a month long contract. Such is the adulation for the departed Mighty Mouse that perhaps guest spots in the vein of 'Have I Got News For You' are the only way forward for NUFC. November will be presided over by Lou Macari, December will be hosted by Trevor Francis and to sate all rabid Geordies, the corpse of Hughie Gallacher will be exhumed to pick the first eleven throughout January.


In the post-match fever of the Merseyside derby defeat, some Everton FC supporters have posted on Teletext and elsewhere, that David Moyes should be fired. These are fans that must be curiously pining for squeaky bum times of scraping into 17th place in the 90s under the sterling management of Walter Smith. They would do well to recall, that frequent European trips via top six finishes of the past few years were only granted under the guardianship of the Moyesyside and no one else.


€14,920 was the fine that FIFA meekly slid under the door of the Croatian FA in presumed punishment against the abhorrent abuse directed at Emile Heskey by Croatian supporters during the recent Croatia v England game.

The fine issued by the English Premier League to Manchester United for picking up seven bookings against Chelsea was £25,000.

It is perhaps indicative of the frequently bizarre behaviour from the corrupt, milksop weaklings led by Sep Blatter, that such a shoddy example was made of Croatia. Every time we are taken aback by FIFA's inefficiency in dealing with racism, we should perhaps, instead, be more amazed by why we continue to be surprised by their flagrant leniency.

UEFA, the Mike Winters to FIFA’s Bernie, continue to baffle in finding schemes to present themselves as being madder than a bottle of chips. The interminably long UEFA Cup has now been re-branded UEFA Europa League and will now, it seems, take longer than ‘Mahabharat’ to conclude.

This, of course, could only be the brainchild of Michel Platini. A man with such an increasingly Nixonian attitude to his presidency has led to him barking out paranoiac statements, such as those directed to Arsene Wenger, suggests someone whose breakfast of choice is Muesli drowned in lashings of Rumplemintz.


Toe curling, cringe making, whatever you want to call it, insert foot in mouth here and listen to this audio murder of an interview.  This blog hasn't felt so uncomfortable since Shteve McClaren's faux-Dutch faux pas.

Marvin mash-ups and drink diatribes

This blog has been slacker than than a Caribbean Dancehall track. No excuses.

Was indulging in a spot of ultra-drinking with Mrs Kristal last night. We were in an establishment called The Waverley Tea Rooms and it is as grandiose as it sounds. Or is it?

This public house has ideas above its station. The fecund stench of pretentiousness permeates throughout, but has slovenly service and unclean, wobbly tables.

The wobbly table really is the enemy of the pub drinker and is inexcusable for any watering hole.

Any drinker who is not ordering the Louis Roederer Cristal 2002, which was your humble correspondent on this evening, is treated with a disdain reserved only for a gin-soaked Hitler impersonator at a bar mitzvah.

'Grace Kelly' by Mika was playing. The song's incessant refrain "why don't you like me?" really does beg the answer “Because you are a ____." (insert incredibly rude word here.)

We left soon after.

The megabevvy re-started properly in a place that didn’t treat their patrons like Tal Ben Haim on a Manchester City tour of United Arab Emirates. Although that is a poor comparison, for we wouldn’t even have been let inside the Tea Rooms in that example.

Now, on to music as there has been far too much football on this blog of late.

The concept of mash-ups, the splicing of two contrasting songs into one seamless track, can be rather hit and miss. Should a mash-up be poor it gives the impression that it is a novelty genre. When it works, it can be a dynamite combination.

‘I Heard It In ‘79’ by team9 is a thrilling fusion of ‘I Heard It Through The Grapevine’ by Marvin Gaye and Smashing Pumpkins ‘1979’. It occasionally threatens to collapse, but for the most part, is resilient and vibrant. The particular revelatory element of the track is hearing how heartbreakingly vulnerable Gaye’s vocal was on the Motown classic, which was disguised by the slightly overpowering instrumentation of the original.

Making the listener realise just how good the source material is can be the true brilliance of top quality mash-up. This is most apparent on ‘Eleanor’s In My Head’ (again by team9, who on the basis of these two experiments is bordering on genius status.) a blending of The Beatles’ ‘Eleanor Rigby’ and ‘In My Head’ by Queens Of The Stone Age.

Kristalseventeen was never a big fan of the second track from ‘Revolver’, but set up against Josh Homme’s raging guitar riff and an absolutely banging drum track, it reveals the ingenuity of the Fab Four’s composition.

Regardless of the likelihood that it is referring to make-up, did those four boys who shook the world ever write a lyric as dark and macabre as "Wearing the face that she keeps in the jar by the door"? Answers on a postcard please.

Should these two masterpieces get you in the mood for more, DJ Lobsterdust has undoubtedly got the magic touch. ‘Jenny’s Superstitious’ (‘Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine’ by The Killers and Stevie Wonder’s ‘Superstition’) is completely and utterly spine tingling and gives you the illusion that the former 12 year old genius was actually in the studio with Brandon Flowers and his fellow Las Vegans. It’s that good.

Fingers crossed, the output here will be more regular for indolence is the last refuge of the scoundrel.

Only a clever man messes with Keano. Jack Warner is not a clever man.

Really. Never mind what Keano is actually saying in this video, the facial hair alone is terrifying. Should you require the background to this highly entertaining skirmish, the lowdown can be found here.

Jack Warner, as well as being very silly, is also a crook. This is worth watching too.