Sweet Nothings

I have something of a love/hate relationship with Sky . Hardware-wise, it's streets ahead of its great competitor Virgin Media, whose unresponsive and utterly frustrating EPG and V+ system I currently wrestle with on a daily basis. If it had been my choice to switch from Sky when I moved away from my smoke-infested Crouch End flat (making a fresh start and all that) then I wouldn't have much cause for complaint. The galling thing is that I was told specifically by my new landlady that the building management people did not like to see dishes on their walls. I have pathetically acquiesced to these demands despite half the people in this block brazenly using dishes in spite of several sternly-worded (but alas empty) threatening letters, thereby advancing the idea that cheating gets you ahead and reinforcing the old maxim of nice guys always finishing last. That certainly applies to poor old Vince Cable, slapped down and humiliated after being stitched up by the Torygraph as par...

I'm not exactly sure why I've gotten into golf. The combination of having Sky Sports, a flat of my own and not enough friends certainly helps. I would never call myself an expert and right now I'm a Major whore who can't be frigged with any other tournaments (oh, except that the Ryder Cup is on soon and I'll be having some of that), but even so: The final round of the USPGA last night was fucking amazing . It was one of those sporting occasions where all the right factors fell into place to ensure a dramatic conclusion. Harrington and Garcia resumed their battle from last year's Open, Sergio gunning for revenge but Padraig looking every inch a two-time Major winner and now with a taste for more. Behind them, the evil Ben Curtis - a man with absolutely sod all on his CV except, somehow, a flukey Major win. Surely he couldn't claim another? Player after player had denounced the Oakland Hills course after falling victim to its brutal difficulty level, and yet l...