Ultimate Betrayal

I dropped into the golf club this week for a spot of lunch. Food was good, company too but my visit was somewhat spoiled by a cursory glance at the noticeboard as I departed. There on the winter league pairs sheet were the names ' Douglas & Ferguson', the Douglas referred to being the very same Keith Douglas whom I partnered in last season's event and carried to runners-up position. This was the first I'd heard that I'd been dropped, we'd had every intention of playing together again this season.

I have to say it comes to a pretty pass when the person you've played golf with every weekend for the entire winter league season, four months all told, sacks you without a word and chooses someone else to partner instead. I shouldn't be surprised, he has so little class, nevertheless it was somewhat chastening to learn of my dismissal through the backdoor rather than face to face. Well up yours Douglas, I hope your assault on this year's trophy falters spectacularly and you sink without trace you witless weasel. Good luck with your poisoned chalice Ferguson, you'll be needing a psychiatrist come Springtime I promise you.

Mearns FM this Thursday

Heard the gag about people having the perfect face for radio? Well I'll be proving that on Thursday when the good people at Mearns FM broadcast our talk about Stoney Baloney. I do have a good voice for radio but only if the audience understands a Brummy drawl so whether the good people of Kincardineshire understand a single word I utter remains to be seen. I've been interviewed on the radio before but it was on BBC Radio West Midlands, they crammed me in one Sunday morning between tips on growing radishes and a travel report detailing roadworks in Tipton. Rock and roll people.

I'm informed the red carpet for my appearance is being purchased from the finest furnishing company in Edinburgh so I'll be careful to check my shoes for dog dirt before stepping onto it from the limousine. My agent has informed the station about my rider requirements (white pudding supper, Mars bar and a can of coke) but I regret the autograph session has had to be canned since a satisfactory fee could not be agreed. If I could politely request all groupies form an orderly queue afterwards, we don't want anything unseemly when you fight over me.

Holte End reaches Aberdeen

This photo in the P&J last week has given me my cheapies and no mistake. Not the article itself but the photo. I've been trying to spread the word of Aston Villa to anyone who'd listen up here in Scotland for years, ever since first moving up in 1982, nobody has listened. So to hell with it, after over three decades banging my head against a brick wall, trying to explain who Villa were and that yes we're still 'all that' despite several seasons in the wilderness, extreme measures have been taken. When asked to submit a photo by the P&J to accompany the article about Stoney Baloney, I offered the above, a photo of me and my two brothers standing on Villa Park's Holte End taking a selfie in the packed stadium. How sweet to have Villa Park brought to the people of Aberdeen this way, finally Aston Villa have broken into Aberdeenshire. Up yours Delors! It's those little things in life you know!

Woeful Westwood

I have two Westwoods to blame for a rotten weekend, Lee and Ashley. The former muffed a tiddler on the closing hole on Saturday night to hand Ryder Cup momentum to America, the latter shilly shallied on the football allowing Preston to secure a decisive second goal in their defeat of Villa.

I can forgive Lee. He's been an integral member of winning Ryder Cup teams over the years so has earned his spurs. Ashley on the other hand epitomises all that's wrong with Aston Villa. He wasn't good enough for the Premiership and he's not up to Championship standard either yet he's a virtual ever present at Villa in recent seasons. He pulls out of tackles, scuffs shots, drifts in corners for keepers to gobble, never scores, can't beat an egg and has no pace whatever. He can point a lot and he applauds the travelling support after the final whistle, this is the sum of his contribution to AVFC and he has to go. Likeable bloke, good looking lad, I'm sure his Mum loves him but if my football club has ambitions of returning to even a shadow of former glory he shouldn't be anywhere near our first team.

Back to Lee and the Ryder Cup, it wasn't ineptitude that cost him his match but simply a dose of the squits while delivering a monumental putt. You can forgive him his miss given the match had been competitive enough to reach the 18th green, Ashley on the other hand, in golfing parlance, would have been handed his dog licence if Marjorie Proops had played him left handed. Defeat with honour is acceptable, surrendering week after week and hiding all over the pitch is not. Lee you are hereby forgiven, Ashley please accept this one way ticket to oblivion and take all your team mates with you.