>> 7th July 2008 >> Nick >> Total recall

It’s barely a week since the curtain came down on Euro 2008 and already I’ve forgotten almost everything that happened. I remember that Spain won the damn thing, but that is about it.

This case of short-term memory loss has nothing to do with the tournament (from what I saw it was actually quite exciting) and everything to do with me. You see, I can hardly remember anything about football after about 1986. Prior to that I’m a bloody genius.

The 2002 World Cup in Japan/Korea? Nothing but hazy images of David Beckham’s broken metatarsal. The 1982 World Cup in Spain? Almost total recall. Brazil’s manager? Easy – Telê Santana the lollypop-sucking Kojak actor. Not sure how he got the Brazil job, but let’s face it a team containing Eder, Falcao, Socrates and Zico probably didn’t need much in the way of man-management. I remember El Salvador’s 10-1 tonking at the hands of Hungary. I remember Belgium’s kit with the train tracks (made up of Admiral logos) that started on the shorts and went all the way up the shirts before disappearing under sweaty armpits. And I remember the official mascot, Naranjito. I loved that little orange fella.

These days nothing. I was gratefully to Zidane for nutting Materazzi at the 2006 World Cup as it helped me remember who was in the final. But Euro 2008 largely passed me by. Maybe 20-years from now it will all come flooding back and, like Arnie, I’ll have total recall. Here’s hoping, eh?

>> 5th July 2008 >> Nick >> Monsters of Rock

My interest in motor racing was largely restricted to ‘Racey’s Rocket’ – a story that appeared in Roy of the Rovers in the early ‘80s documenting Roy’s stock-car racing escapades.

But living down the road from Silverstone, once a year, I enjoy looking out the window and watching the traffic gridlock unfold before my eyes. So I was quite surprised when I found out that Ecclescake chap is moving the British Grand Prix to Donnington? Whilst I have no interest in life-size Scalextric, the loss of the Grand Prix will hit the local economy hard.

With this in mind, I propose a counter-strike: If Donnington can nick the Grand Prix then Silverstone MUST retaliate by hijacking the Monsters of Rock. Someone lure Lemmy from Motorhead and that bloke from Kiss to the Little Chef on the A5 and bundle them into the boot of a car. Only let them go when they agree to play Silverstone.

Problem solved.