Birthday Greetings....

 

It’s my birthday; obviously I’m not having a party, not just because of social distancing, but because I’ve got hardly any mates, on account of multiple fallings-out over the years. As I turn 56, I’ve decided to make a fictional list of adversaries, meaning all resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental…

Scandinavian Mug Punter: Took the huff after I went public with comments about how boring I found his publication. As I had nothing in common with him, bar this, it’s no great loss.

The Ouston Problem: A particularly bitter one this. He’s the former editor of a former fanzine and a self-elected super fan whose pride came before a terrible fall in 2019, when he suffered sustained bullying on Twitter. Ironically, it’s the exact treatment him and his one-time crowd of acolytes handed out to me from 2006 to 2015. He can be either a swaggering bully or a complete social introvert, not to mention permanently erroneously opinionated and bald. A bad penny.

Smarmy Overbite: Somehow still making a living as a journalist, despite breaking loads of stories that never came to pass; Muslim players deserting NUFC in droves after the Wonga sponsorship deal being the most notorious of his fictional fables. Threw a hissy fit when I suggested his book on Benitez was a blatant cash-in on the gullibility of Newcastle fans.

Baldy Grump: For some reason he’s been in a strop with me for a few years. Low spot was him attempting to start a fight in the Left Luggage Room. Still not sure of his beef, which is a shame as I liked him.

Strawberry Blond Sturmabteilung: Sometimes, you just have to stand up and tell it how it is. He was a pal for many years, but the older he got, the more intolerant and censorious he began. Anyone disagreeing with him was excommunicated, as he sought to surround himself with sycophants of limited intelligence. If he climbed off his high horse, cut down on the self-mythologising and playing to the gallery, he could be a decent person, like his brother and his dad. Unfortunately, he seems to enjoy being pompous and inventing a personal history of impeccable proletarian credentials.

Coffin Dodgy: Autodidact ingenue who initially came to fame after his MAOC stunts. Joined NUST and was swallowed by the bureaucracy; fell out with me when I pointed out he’d been compromised and manipulated. Fell back into obscurity. Now driving a taxi, I believe.

Sandy Horologist: Dubai based mouth worker. NHS-trained before chasing the Petrodollar in the desert. While his pals stayed on Tyneside, many working endlessly for the NUFC Foodbank on a voluntary basis, he spent his time showing off his gaudy watch collection on Twitter, not to mention establishing a media career, founded on his supposed knowledge of the Staveley bid fiasco. Feel sorry for any of his patients who must have been left twiddling their thumbs in the chair while he did another podcast or bought a Rolex on Ebay.

Imbarrathin Body: Radgepacket with a hair-trigger temper, who enjoys public slanging matches. Didn’t appreciate me pointing out to him that 6 pints of Woodpecker snakebite isn’t appropriate refuelling for a designated lorry driver.

Private Mainwaring: Boring, bong-eyed, thick camp follower. Hasn’t found a bandwagon he can’t join in music, football and cricket. A joke.

Cyber Groomer: Message board warrior who enjoys spreading vitriol to random single women behind his wife’s back. Never even met the bloke.

Forest Grump: Lachrymose Richard Fairbrass body double with a persecution complex. Has a memory longer than an elephant.

Monkey Con: Borderline illiterate old lag. Objected to being brought to book for turning rebellion into money.

Hosiery Hitler: Former fat fanzine lad turned paranoid entrepreneur. Took umbrage after being criticised for kicking Simon Pryde up a height in a charity 5-a-side. Vexatious litigant who has had the Polis at my door almost as often as Elaine Gray-O’Connell.

Permed Hun: Former Liverpool, Carlisle and Newcastle fan who fell head over heels in love with Loyalist iconography. Extreme homophobe and collector of Nazi memorabilia.

Dirt Box Dickhead: Another ex-con. Doesn’t understand irony and harbours a grudge. Can start a row in an empty room.

The Man With No Hair: Survivalist prepper with a set of clubs in the back of the car. Bald, 19^th hole bigot with a single-figure IQ. Could be dangerous if society breaks down. Alarming sexual fantasist.

Dole Dullard: Empty-headed former Gremlin. Struggles to comprehend the opposite point of view. Fights words with fists, but often comes second.

PC Doyle: Corrupt intellectual pygmy. Fond of accessing PNC and telling stories. No longer on social media.

Gillsbridge Podiatrist: Boneheaded Mackem grass who can’t accept the truth about the Central Station.

Denver: Brainwashed, discarded Vanguardista. A waste of a life.

Big Chef: Hysterical barrage balloon, still holding a candle for a dead dog.

The E Generation: Hertfordshire acid casualty and social media liar.

Fumima Fumami: White haired heed the ball and grass. Made a career from forging wills.

Chirton Walrus: Pisspot dictator with a Messiah complex. Hates being challenged.

18% Hydrocephalus: A massive, empty head and an incessant paranoid rewriter of history.

Big Psycho: Fat liar.

Sordid Dwarf:  Geriatric lothario.

Cathedral Nonce: Dead paedo.

Hardface Homeperm: Hysterical harridan with 999 on speed dial.

Moody German Pig: Sly nutter.

No Tits Fan: Flat chested, scheming witch.

Milky Lipley: Small, inadequate man in a donkey jacket.

Cash Converter: This isn’t science fiction, it’s art after music.

Moaning Banjos: Big-eared, conformist loser. Destined never to be a musician while he’s a hole in his arse.

The Ventriloquist: Hopeless cineaste turned hopeless restauranteur.

Pip Punter: Loud, arrogant bookie’s mug with a liking for takeaways.

Bonfire Bonehead: A factotum who refuses to surrender and always grabs the wrong end of the stick to beat people up with.

Smiling Assassin: Self first, self last and self again if there’s anything left.

Keyhole Kate: Shrill-voiced, bong-eyed, authoritarian witch.

The Big Florist: Vengeful, aggressive dictator, with the eyes of Caligula and the mouth of Caligula.

Airborne Roy Whiting: Modern day Victorian mill owner, with a hatred of the NHS & an obsession with exploiting workers

Scabby Weasel: Strike-breaking hypocrite with an unconvincing combover, whose shit band play the Big Meeting as often as he crosses a picket line.