Author Topic: Shanklyboy's and Fat Scousers ( Leo who's still alive ) auld arse thread  (Read 3990415 times)

Offline ABZ Rover

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42720 on: April 15, 2020, 04:58:22 pm »
Lovely that Terry.

RIP 96
97 stars burning bright, forever watching over day or night

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Offline Pheeny

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42721 on: April 15, 2020, 07:42:53 pm »
Great Terry

RIP The 96

Offline Mutton Geoff

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42722 on: April 21, 2020, 08:51:16 pm »
Can i echo those comments Terry, brilliant and much needed right now.
A world were Liars and Hypocrites are accepted and rewarded and honest people are derided!
Who voted in this lying corrupt bastard anyway

Offline Mutton Geoff

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42723 on: April 26, 2020, 10:19:53 pm »
still here guys
A world were Liars and Hypocrites are accepted and rewarded and honest people are derided!
Who voted in this lying corrupt bastard anyway

Offline jambutty

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42724 on: April 27, 2020, 05:57:00 pm »
still here guys

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/v/_oNHPyGyRgI" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" class="bbc_link bbc_flash_disabled new_win">https://www.youtube.com/v/_oNHPyGyRgI</a>
Kill the humourless

Offline Rick13

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42725 on: April 28, 2020, 12:01:24 pm »
The former Brighton and Liverpool striker Michael Robinson, who finished his career at Osasuna and then settled in Spain, has died aged 61.



MICHAEL ROBINSON: THE ENGLISH VOICE OF SPANISH FOOTBALL


By Dan Parry

For the past 30 years, one of the most important voices in Spanish football has been the peculiar English accent of ex-Liverpool striker, Michael Robinson. After a successful playing career in England, Robinson moved to Spain in the late 80’s -and never left.
Since retiring as a player, he has had an extraordinary career as a commentator and respected journalist in his adopted country. Along the way he has revolutionised the way football is presented on Spanish television screens.

Born in Leicester, raised in Blackpool and a die-hard Liverpool fan, Robinson began his professional playing career in 1976 at his hometown’s local rivals, Second Division side Preston North End.

The young striker impressed so much during his time at PNE that in 1979 the then Manchester City manager Malcolm Allison spent £750,000 on Robinson, making him the most expensive teenage signing in British history at that point. At City, Robinson failed to deal with the expectations that came with the fee, scoring just 8 goals in his 30 appearances.

The next season, Robinson found himself sold to south-coast club Brighton and Hove Albion at a reduced price. Without the pressure and the price-tag that hung over him at City, he rebuilt his career. In a 3-year stint at Brighton, Robinson re-established his reputation as he scored 37 goals in 113 games.

It was also during this period that he made his debut as a Republic of Ireland international -the call up made possible thanks to an Irish grandmother. He accumulated a total of 24 caps and 6 goals for the Irish national team.

In his last season at Brighton he helped them reach the 1983 FA Cup final. He shone as Brighton held Manchester United 2-2, before being roundly defeated 4-0 in the replay. Although Brighton were relegated that season, Robinson’s performances earned him a move to his boyhood club, Liverpool FC.

His sole season at Liverpool was one of mixed fortunes. He won a league title and a European Cup winners medal, but was unable to impose himself and struggled with the superior competition for places.

The incredible form of Ian Rush and Kenny Dalglish meant that he was mostly limited to making appearances from the bench. After the signing of Paul Walsh in 1984, Robinson realised that his chances of pushing himself into the first-team equation would be even slimmer.

He went to manager Joe Fagan and asked to be transferred. He wanted to play regular football and did not want to end up resenting the club that he loved so dearly if he could not achieve it there.

Fagan, determined to keep a player of Robinson’s honest character around the club, originally resisted the request. Eventually he gave in and Robinson was granted a move to London when Liverpool accepted a bid from QPR.

He spent two seasons at QPR. They survived relegation in his first season, and in 1986 they reached the League Cup final where they were defeated 3-0 by Oxford United.
The moderate success aside, Robinson realised that he would not be able to keep himself content as a QPR player. He longed for the days of success he had at Liverpool but knew that his time at the top of the game was over.

Subsequently, he decided to send his career in a different direction altogether, and asked to be transferred to a foreign club. Having always considered himself to be something of an intellectual, he desired a move abroad so that he could learn a new language and experience a different culture.

Robinson played half an injury-dogged season before he was sold to CA Osasuna in January 1987. Osasuna are the premier club of Pamplona, a city in the North of Spain and capital of the province of Navarre.

The story goes that Robinson was at his favourite London bar when QPR manager Jim Smith rang him. Smith informed Robinson that a Spanish club called Osasuna wanted to sign him. Robinson returned home, took out a map of Spain and began searching for the city of Osasuna…

He couldn’t find it but signed for the club anyway and left the U.K on the next flight out. The story goes that on the following day, upon returning to the hotel after his first training session, he asked his wife what she thought of Osasuna as a city. She told him that city was called Pamplona, but the club was called Osasuna.

He enjoyed a fruitful period at the club, his physical style of play and aerial prowess made him a real asset in a league more accustomed to silky and technical players. He played three seasons at Osasuna scoring 12 goals in 59 games.

Unfortunately, his time in Pamplona was also plagued with injuries. He retired at just 31 years of age due to a problem that left him with a hinge in his knee.

A mark of the character and honesty that made him so popular, Robinson forfeited the pay for the final year of his contract. Knowing that he would be incapable of playing, he chose not to see out his contract stuck on a physio’s bench, and asked for no compensation. He thought it would lack dignity to allow the club to pay his wages if he could not play.

This is one of the many examples of generous and candid behaviour that have made Robinson such a favourite with Spanish fans, as both a player and a pundit. For example, he once spoke of an occasion when his coach at Osasuna asked him to dive during an upcoming match, the referee was known for giving soft penalties.

Robinson refused and told the manager that penalties are given for being fouled, not for just any kind of contact, and that any further demands of that sort would result in a transfer request, from both him and teammate, Sammy Lee.

Away from the pitch, Robinson immersed himself in Spanish culture. He often states how grateful he is that when he first arrived at Osasuna nobody could string together more than a few words in English, thus forcing him to become fluent in Castillian Spanish.

Robinson’s willingness to assimilate was greatly appreciated by the Spanish public and it has been a key part of his success as a commentator.

Robinson returned to the UK briefly after reitiring but found that he missed Spain more whilst he was in England than he had ever missed England whilst he had been in Spain. So, he returned to Spain and embarked upon his extraordinary career as a commentator and journalist.

Robinson’s initial forays into the commentating world came in the 1989/90 season when he called English First Division matches for Eurosport. His big break, however, came during the 1990 World Cup in Italy when Robinson was employed by the Spanish state broadcasting corporation RTVE (Radio Television Española) to commentate over all the games from England’s group.

This period was fundamental in his development as a commentator and journalist. His interactions with the fans at the tournament drove his desire, as a reporter, to portray what occurs away from the pitch and in the stands. He proved to be a huge hit with the audiences. His British wit and comical accent made him instantly recognisable and extremely popular.


"We believe there's never a cause that's lost" Bill Shankly

Offline Rick13

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42726 on: April 28, 2020, 03:47:53 pm »
......and a lovely piece from Sid Lowe of The Guardian about Michael. He was clearly much more than just a footballer.

https://www.theguardian.com/football/2020/apr/28/michael-robinson-european-cup-winner-voice-spanish-tv-died-61


Although he graced European and FA Cup finals, the former striker, who has died at 61, truly shone as a broadcaster in Spain.


Michael Robinson had a big heart and loved telling stories. He told stories on the telly, he told stories on the radio and he told stories every time you were with him. Warm, funny, human stories. Endlessly. He could talk and talk, though he listened too. You couldn’t meet him for lunch and get back before dinner. He loved football but above all he loved people, good people. The game, which he understood and communicated better than anyone – an explanation of on-field “reference points” lingers in the mind, a moment’s revelation – was the excuse for everything else, he said.

The problem with that is it suggested he wasn’t good at the game, which is what he tended to suggest too. Ian Rush was a genius who made him look good, he would say: all he had to do was nod the ball on, any old place, and it would magically become the perfect assist. As if that was easy. Not just anyone joins Liverpool, where he would play in goal in training – Cat, they called him – and stand outside the toilet reading the programme to Kenny Dalglish on match days. Where he managed to go to West Ham and score a hat-trick and get sent off in the same game in the pouring rain.


One day early on when things weren’t going well and when Robinson doubted himself, convinced he would be dropped and probably for ever, Joe Fagan called him to the boot room. Fagan told him “my wife likes you” and said he would start the following Saturday. He scored and by the end of the 1983-84 season had a league and League Cup medal. In the European Cup final in Rome, he replaced Dalglish. He was proud of that: Liverpool were the team he supported as a boy in Blackpool, where his parents ran a guest house, and the club he felt as his.

Yet the days he remembered most fondly came in 1983 when Brighton, “a bunch of mates”, went to Wembley for the FA Cup final. Along with Graeme Souness, Steve Foster was his closest friend, a “beautiful man” in Michael’s words. Even Smith-must-score not scoring that day against Manchester United didn’t ruin it for them. A replay was a good thing: the way Michael saw it, they never, ever thought they would go to Wembley; now they were going twice. Despite losing the second game, he never felt like he had lost. And he never, ever projected himself as a winner. Instead there was a kind of incredulous gratitude at having been allowed to live it at all.

And, oh, Michael lived. He played for Preston, Manchester City, Brighton, Liverpool, QPR and Republic of Ireland. And then Osasuna, which is where it all began: that other life. Where he found himself, even if he couldn’t find Osasuna. The night he signed, he sat in a hotel at Heathrow and looked for it on a map, unaware that wasn’t the name of the town. When he went to his first training session, taken there by teammate Iñaki Ibáñez, he couldn’t understand what the hotel manager was doing on the pitch with them. It turned out, the man he had met the night before was the team manager.


Michael had not understood that. He didn’t understand much at first, and yet with time he understood everything. Teammates would send him to the bar to order six hijos de puta. He was their “toy”, he said, fondly. He played some games, scored some goals and was a different type of footballer. When he got injured he said it was wrong to be paid when he was not playing. In 1989 he retired, only 31 years old. Which is when, far from ending, it began.


Spain had become home, his place. It would do even more: it is hard, genuinely, to express to people in England and Ireland just how significant he is here, how popular, how loved, how much a part of the fabric of the society he embraced. One way might be to use the old measure of fame: you know you’ve made it if you’re on Spitting Image. Well, Michael’s puppet presented the Spanish version of the show. He was the face of PC Manager and the voice of the Ugly Sister in Shrek.

It wasn’t deliberate but it meant something that he referred to Spain as “we” when the World Cup came round and no one told the story of 2010 like he did in his documentary on it. He has died at 61, and it is here that his life reached every home and touched everyone.


Michael had this theory, which he expressed only half-seriously, that he was Spanish really. He had traced his roots to County Cork in 1732. There, almost everyone is fair, with freckles and ginger hair. Only 2% of the population are dark like me, he said. That 2% are descendants of the Armada washed up on the way home after defeat, sailors from Galicia or Cádiz. “I reckon I must actually be from Cádiz,” he concluded. Well of course: a city full of life and laughs that he loved; one he described as spontaneous, open, humble.

The first time Robinson was asked to commentate, he said it wasn’t a great idea: he had 100 words in Spanish and 90 were swearwords. But that was part of the charm. When, later, his Spanish got too good – and for all the quirks, it was good – his bosses would suggest he go away and lose it for a bit.

It all started at the 1990 World Cup. Being there, he saw what he never saw as a player, holed up in a hotel – and, he said, he was glad he hadn’t, because the pressure would have been too great knowing all those people depended on him putting the ball in the net. He saw thousands and thousands of people from all over the world, every country, every creed, every age. He saw painted faces, the party, communities, what it all meant. He thought to himself: “That should be on the telly too.” So, he put it there.

Michael Robinson hosted the beloved Spanish football show El Día Después for 14 years from 1991 to 2005.
Every Monday night for 15 years, Spain joined him. El Día Después, missed like he will be, was an institution that changed the face of broadcasting for ever and it was his: he did not just present it, he produced it and wrote it with a team he put together. Monday production meetings at their Tres Cantos offices were alive with stories and excitement. He told everyone, endlessly, that they were being allowed into living rooms and they should never forget that: it was an honour to be treated with reverence. He chose that team carefully and cared for them deeply.

He described the show as “an X-ray of society; it’s about a communal feeling, a football programme that’s offside-free. El Día Después is for everybody: 30 million Spaniards, not the five people who think they own the game.” He couldn’t be bothered with tiresome refereeing debates; he liked the game too much and the good that goes with it. “Refereeing errors are the wrinkles on Paul Newman’s face, tiny imperfections: they don’t change the beauty,” he said.

His show was fun and it was about the fans as well as the footballers. More so. And it was huge. Michael was especially fond of a video of a small boy going to his first game, aged four or five. His cameras caught the boy at the Bernabéu, wide-eyed, overwhelmed, smiling: “One little boy showing what football is about."

El Día Después was not just a programme, it was almost a concept, a philosophy on life and football. It wasn’t always easy to explain what exactly it was trying to do but in a way it was also very simple: it was about enjoyment. It was upbeat, positive, fun, lacking cynicism and refusing to sneer. It meant something. He described that vision and those who shared it as Díadespuesista (DiaDespues-ist) and he wasn’t exclusivist about it: he embraced and championed those who had similar views and ways of covering and experiencing football. He never forgave the executives who brought the programme to an end. Still less for replacing it with a successor that was pulled within weeks.

He watched, listened and read endlessly and would respond when he was touched by the stories others told. It was invariably the pieces about beauty, feeling or emotion that moved him to pick up the phone or to share them with others – the pieces about people, portraits that went beyond play. He was a mentor without ever meaning to be, still less presuming to hold such a post.

Not that he stopped storytelling himself, far from it. How could he? Instead, he consciously kicked back against the direction the football media were going in, trying to drag it away from the vacuous debates, the empty noise. Liking good people meant disliking bad ones, and he felt that too. There was a huge amount of talent and there was also integrity; he wouldn’t allow himself to be dragged into something in which he didn’t believe, nor allow his team to be left behind. He went his own way, taking them with him. His work was more serious now, but driven by the same fundamental focus: humanity.


Informe Robinson – he didn’t much like the name – told sports stories but most of all it told stories. A deep, beautifully shot, movingly told documentary series full of admiration for athletes big and small. So good that far from closing the doors, footballers called and begged to be on. Maybe his team will tell his story too one day and do it his way, but where to find a narrator like the man who lived it?

Michael’s radio show on Cadena Ser, launched more recently, plotted a similar course to his TV work: tales of courage and overcoming, small vignettes with symbolism and meaning. He kept working on that, on Informe Robinson and on Sunday night football matches after he was diagnosed with cancer, that huge heart never skipping a beat, the enjoyment and enthusiasm that characterised him still there. His radio show was called Robinson’s Accent, which said it all: there was no voice quite like his, one Spain listened to and made its own for many years but not enough.
"We believe there's never a cause that's lost" Bill Shankly

Offline jambutty

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42727 on: April 30, 2020, 09:18:01 pm »
Toilets

Unisex

M/F/?

M/F/L/G/B/T/Q/Q/I/U

Kill the humourless

Offline Red_Bear

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Toilets

Unisex

M/F/?

M/F/L/G/B/T/Q/Q/I/U
I'm sorry, I'm not sure what point you're making here? If you're taking issue with toilets being inclusive to trans people, including non-binary people, then the thread for discussion of trans rights is here: https://www.redandwhitekop.com/forum/index.php?topic=345127.0

If it's something else you're saying, I'd be interested to hear what it is.

Offline jambutty

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Mum and 2 cousins were working in the officers mess at Burtonwood during the war.

Reminiscing yesterday about the entertainment that would pass through performing for the repair crews there.  Glenn Miller, Bob Hope, Frances Langford being the most famous.

She remembered in 1944, serving an older officer in a Forester's cap with a gold star on it, which caught her eye.  The owner noted her interest and when she said she'd never seen one like that before, he unpinned it and said "Now you have one of your own."

It was Omar Bradley.

After a huge V-E Day, she'd been rousted at 5am for work, after only 3 hours sleep, by a courtesy Jeep sent to pick her up.

When her customers remarked she was looking a bit under the weather, she silenced the Yank only crowd when she responded "You'd look like this if you got knocked up by a Jeep at 5 in the morning!" then stormed off back to the kitchen.

Followed immediately by the CO who sheepishly explained that Yanks viewed her description somewhat differently.
« Last Edit: May 6, 2020, 09:38:52 pm by jambutty »
Kill the humourless

Offline The Gulleysucker

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That would be worth a fair sum to a collector these days, he was the last US 5 star General.

It's hard to believe the size that Burtonwood was these days, it was absolutely huge and although regular flying stopped by the late 60's, there was still quite a lot of the original buildings still there right upto the end of the cold war and just a few years beyond, but all evidence that it was ever there has just about disappeared now.

I know my mum and her sisters used to wax lyrical about the Yanks at the dances back then.
I don't do polite so fuck yoursalf with your stupid accusations...

Right you fuckwit I will show you why you are talking out of your fat arse...

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Offline kesey

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That would be worth a fair sum to a collector these days, he was the last US 5 star General.

It's hard to believe the size that Burtonwood was these days, it was absolutely huge and although regular flying stopped by the late 60's, there was still quite a lot of the original buildings still there right upto the end of the cold war and just a few years beyond, but all evidence that it was ever there has just about disappeared now.

I know my mum and her sisters used to wax lyrical about the Yanks at the dances back then.


Here's a story for you.

I done a mentoring course in about 2008 or something . The tutor was born directly from Burtonwood as his Ma' was Warrington. He was half cast as the US army fella was Afro American. His Ma had to say that she was raped just to save her face and the Da' got fucked off back to the States and sent to a military jail. He told me they finally met up at some point but I can't think of the actual year .
« Last Edit: May 6, 2020, 10:08:22 pm by kesey »
He who sees himself in all beings and all beings in himself loses all fear.

- The Upanishads.

The heart knows the way. Run in that direction

- Rumi

You are held . You are loved . You are seen  - Some wise fella .

Offline kesey

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My Granma Hoare ( Keen ) was from Evesham and my Grandad was born in Liverpool to Irish parents and ended up in the RAF at a base just outside of Evesham and that's how they met. He brought her back here when the war was over but had their first child in Evesham.
He who sees himself in all beings and all beings in himself loses all fear.

- The Upanishads.

The heart knows the way. Run in that direction

- Rumi

You are held . You are loved . You are seen  - Some wise fella .

Offline Manila Vanilla

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My Mum volunteered to help out in the American Red Cross Club in Liverpool during the war. She invited a young airman back for tea with her parents and wrote to him when he embarked for France. The letter came back “Missing In Action”. She asked for further details but this was declined as it was classified information, only available to direct family. The lady who replied added that she had a sister, Ruth, who was looking for a pen pal. Did my Mum want to correspond? She did.

After the war, my Mum wanted to work abroad but didn’t have the qualifications, as she’d had to leave school at 14. She filed an application on the off chance and, out of the blue, there was an urgent need for a secretary in the Reparations Department – in occupied Japan! This was at a time when the family had never been further than the annual holiday in Blackpool. To her parents’ horror, two weeks later she was on a flying boat for the ten day trip from Poole to Tokyo.

Ruth had itchy feet too. She joined the American forces and travelled, finally visiting Japan. My Mum got a call in her room. Ruth was standing outside and did she want to meet up? It was the first time they’d ever met.

Ruth married a US serviceman who’d been at Pearl Harbor and who got rolled out for interviews every time they made a documentary on the raid. My Mum returned to Liverpool as a passenger on a merchant ship, where one of the young officers turned out to be my father…

The ladies lost contact until 25 years later, when my Mum wrote to the Chief of Police of the small North Carolina town where Ruth’s family had lived. He reunited them and my Mum made her one and only transatlantic flight to meet up again. It was covered in the local press. They spoke by phone once a week for the rest of their lives.

As for the missing airman… The records were eventually declassified and I was able to download the incident report. Witness statements described exactly where his plane had disappeared, over Geilenkirchen in heavy flak. He ‘d taken off from Laon, in the relatively unknown Aisne department. Strangely, I’d married a girl from the Aisne and my children were born there, just 30 miles fron Laon!

Offline kopite.keith

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Great story MV and thanks for sharing. I love to hear those stories of life’s great coincidences and twists of fate. Probably a few to share amongst us auld arses given our time, our experiences and those of our families over our time on this Earth.
When in Rome...

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My Grandfather was a senior officer in the Royal Artillery. He served in Crete when the Germans attacked. He led his men to the beaches where they were to be evacuated. A launch came from one of the Royal Navy ships to collect him as he was also a training officer and they wanted him off the beach. He initially refused to go because he wanted to stay with his men. He was eventually ordered to evacuate. He left a picture of my uncle and his watch with his men to show that he wouldn`t leave them and promised they would be evacuated. They didn`t get chance and some of them were captured. He lived with the guilt for many years and it upset him greatly - he felt as though he had been tricked

When I was very young I was on holiday in Scotland and went for a walk to a little local village with my Dad and Grandfather. This was essentially in the middle of nowhere. I remember vividly walking down this road. On the other side of the road a man suddenly stopped and saluted bolt upright. My Grandfather suddenly let go of my hand and walked over the road and then started to hug this man (and he wasn`t one for hugging). My Dad and and I walked over the road and my Grandfather had tears in his eyes, again something my Dad have never seen him do. It transpired that the man who had saluted served under him and had been one of the men on the beach. He had told my Grandfather that all his men knew that it wasn`t his fault and that he didn`t have a choice.

One final coincidence about him and the same events was a few years later. My Dad took him to play golf with his best friend and his Dad. They arranged to play a round and then take their father's for a meal afterwards. As men of that era sometimes will, they got around to talking about what they did during the war. It transpired that my Dad's friends father was 2nd in command on the Royal Navy ship that my Grandfather was evacuated to.

(Sorry if I am going on.....but one final story that isn`t a coincidence but makes me smile. Towards the end of the war he was the commanding officer of a Royal Artillery training base. It was to be visited by Churchill and Eisenhower. They got all the field artillery into neat rows ready for the parade/inspection. As Churchill was speaking to him during the inspection, one of the guns started to drop and Churchill said to him "Ah, must be one of the older pieces" and grinned)
"Just a normal lad from Liverpool whose dream has just come true" Trent June 1st 2019

Offline Manila Vanilla

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I love to hear those stories of life’s great coincidences and twists of fate. Probably a few to share amongst us auld arses given our time, our experiences and those of our families over our time on this Earth.
Thanks, Keith. Here’s another couple of coincidences.

My French wife had a sister who also had a British partner and was living in Coventry. I asked him about his career and he said he’d done research into Antarctic protozoa at the University of Warwick. This was strange, not because of the unusual job, but because my sister’s husband had done the same thing in the same place. It turned out that one had replaced the other in exactly the same job and they already knew each other!

My grandfather had been a season ticket holder at Anfield for years. When I was nine I discovered my best mate’s dad was also a season ticket holder. They had seats next to each other and his dad had occasionally given my grandad a lift home!

Over to the rest of you…!

Offline jambutty

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42737 on: May 10, 2020, 10:48:59 am »
My uncle, Jim Corbett, Irish Guards, was killed very early in WW2.  His wife, my Aunt Ivy, opened a chippy on Walker Street off Bewsey in Warrington just down the road from Burtonwood.  As me Ma and mates worked there, it was soon the fave base chippy.

British wartime sentiment about Yanks was "overpaid, oversexed and over here."

Mum and her sisters were dead gorge and 3 became war brides and moved to the States.

If Mum hadn't married a Brit at the end of the war I'd've lost me birthright!
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Offline The Gulleysucker

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42738 on: May 10, 2020, 11:11:07 am »
My uncle, Jim Corbett, Irish Guards, was killed very early in WW2.  His wife, my Aunt Ivy, opened a chippy on Walker Street off Bewsey in Warrington just down the road from Burtonwood.  As me Ma and mates worked there, it was soon the fave base chippy.

British wartime sentiment about Yanks was "overpaid, oversexed and over here."

Mum and her sisters were dead gorge and 3 became war brides and moved to the States.

If Mum hadn't married a Brit at the end of the war I'd've lost me birthright!

I have a hazy memory of us all going on a picnic down towards Burtonwood direction sometime back in the early 60's when it was still a busy'ish airbase and seeing quite a few Yank USAAF chaps around.

They undeniably had very impressive uniforms but my Father languidly said that the Yanks got a medal simply for queing for the NAAFI...

But I do have fond memories of the Yank Army guys we met when we did a trip in France around Easter '63 when I was not quite 8.

They were incredibly generous to all of us kids, we would often eat for free at the layby's we stopped in if there was one of their convoys parked up there with a canteen van. I still have an indestructable bakelite type Army issue coffee cup that was given to me by them just like this...



I was even taught to do the twist in a cafe by a group of Yanks, the Chubby Checker record was playing on the jukebox, it being all just prior to the Beatles takeover sweeping all that stuff aside.
I don't do polite so fuck yoursalf with your stupid accusations...

Right you fuckwit I will show you why you are talking out of your fat arse...

Mutton Geoff (Obviously a real nice guy)

Offline jambutty

  • The Gok Wan of RAWK. Tripespotting Advocate. Oakley style guru. Hardman St. arl arse, "Ridiculously cool" -Atko- Impending U.S. Civil War Ostrich. Too old to suffer wankers and WUMs on here.
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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42739 on: May 10, 2020, 11:29:56 am »
My soon to be Yank uncle took me to the base to see Rock Around The Clock when it came out in '55.  Changed me life forever.

How lucky were we to be born out of the war and into Rock n Roll?

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Offline jambutty

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42740 on: May 11, 2020, 11:31:10 am »
I was even taught to do the twist in a cafe by a group of Yanks, the Chubby Checker record was playing on the jukebox, it being all just prior to the Beatles takeover sweeping all that stuff aside.

Chubs invented it, but Joey Dee and the Starlighters took it to a new (and white) level in the US.

You couldn't breathe in the Peppermint Lounge when they played.




https://www.joeydee.com/twist-dance/
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Offline The Gulleysucker

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42741 on: May 11, 2020, 12:04:57 pm »

Cool.

Any idea who the two guys sitting opposite Ringo at the table are, might be my mind playing tricks but I think I vaguely recognise them from some other group of that time?



I don't do polite so fuck yoursalf with your stupid accusations...

Right you fuckwit I will show you why you are talking out of your fat arse...

Mutton Geoff (Obviously a real nice guy)

Offline jambutty

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42742 on: May 11, 2020, 09:35:40 pm »
One looks like a Winwood.  Muff p'raps?  Bob Addio will know.
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Offline jambutty

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42743 on: May 17, 2020, 12:52:25 pm »
I beat the cabin fever by meeting a couple of masked friends at Greenwood Cemetery.

After living near and viewing from passing by for yonks, realized it was one of the best places open to walkers, so on a bright beautiful day, took a walk around their meandering paths, massive trees, ponds, glades and impressive views.

Just like our Cathedral cemetery.

When Jam was just a wee butty and got rambunctious at home, his teenaged aunt was summoned to take him for a walk there.

We'd wander about reading, or trying to read the gravestones and staying away from the dark hole where a broken trike marked the spot where some miscreant had supposedly disappeared.

Auntie had a fit when I'd start climbing the wall.  The huge gaps between the stones made it an easy free climb for a 5 year scally who had no idea what death or a fall from great height was.

Check out GW here:

https://www.businessinsider.com/photo-tour-of-brooklyns-green-wood-cemetery-2014-7

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Online rob1966

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42744 on: May 17, 2020, 03:09:47 pm »
Talking about coincidences, when I was about 18 and lived on Tower Hill, one night this stolen brown MKIV Cortina was dumped right by our house, I could hear from the chatter that the car had been robbed from Ormskirk. Before they had a chance to torch it, we rang the Police and they turned up and not long after the owner came and recovered the car.

We moved to Southport later that year and for my 21st, my Mum gave me enough money to buy a car and I bought this brown MKIV Cortina off a mate of my stepdads, who lived in Ormskirk. Eventually I twigged it was the same car that had been dumped on our estate.
Jurgen, you made us laugh, you made us cry, you made Liverpool a bastion of invincibilty, now leave us on a high - YNWA

Offline driftinwest

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42745 on: May 17, 2020, 03:15:52 pm »
I was just browsing you tube and came across this gem from 1968, Liverpool getting revenge for the 2-1 defeat at Anfield earlier in the season. I went the home game, but the ole fella wouldn't let me go the away match, I was twelve then and it wasn't that I was to young it was he wanted to go on the ale after the game with his mates and didn't want me tugging at his shirt strings, haha can't blame him god bless his soul.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d17jgyj2BN0
Enjoy auld arses it will bring back memories of how good a goalkeepers Tommy Lawrence and Alex Stepney were.
If my assistant had not signalled a goal, I would have given a penalty and sent off goalkeeper Patr Cheh. he beeped me to signal the foul. The noise from the crowd  stopped me hearing it, I have been involved at places like Barcelona, Ibrox, Old Trafford, Arsenal, but I've never in my life been involved in such an atmosphere. IT WAS INCREDIBLE

Offline Pheeny

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42746 on: May 28, 2020, 07:21:38 pm »
page 2?

Offline jambutty

  • The Gok Wan of RAWK. Tripespotting Advocate. Oakley style guru. Hardman St. arl arse, "Ridiculously cool" -Atko- Impending U.S. Civil War Ostrich. Too old to suffer wankers and WUMs on here.
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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42747 on: June 5, 2020, 09:27:11 pm »
Ran into an old musician friend I've known for 40 years last week. 

Told me a story of how he, John Lennon and a bartender were the only ones in a NYC  bar on 13th & 5th at 230 one afternoon.

One of them was thrown out.  Guess who?


Mate walks into the place to have a slash, he sees a customer in convo with the bartender who looks a clean shaven Lennon.  He slows down to hear his accent which only confirms his theory. 

Goes up to John and says "You're John Lennon!"  "Guilty as charged" comes the reply and they start to converse about NY being the only town he wants to live in because here he's just another (albeit big) celebrity,  and being a Beatle.

This was in John's Exile period.  He said that being a Beatle was like getting on the best thrill ride ever in your life and being unable to ever get off.

After a while, me mate was Burstyn and begged off to the loo.

Came back and John and the bartender are arguing vociferously.  John is effing and blinding and the barman is getting really hot under the collar.  Another minute and he marches out, grabs John by the arm and hustles him out the door.

Me mate is incredulous.  'You just threw John Lennon out of the bar!" he screeches.

"Again!" says the barkeep.
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Online Dr. Beaker

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42748 on: June 6, 2020, 12:22:47 am »
My sister-in-law was travelling round Europe in the early seventies - she never came back -  with a friend of hers. They were in a bar in either Figueras or Cadaques (I'm not sure now) in NE Spain, one afternoon. George Harrison and another Beatle, not sure which one, came into the bar and invited them to to a party in the garden of this great big house - it was Salvador Dali's place - mind you they didn't even know who he was!
NAKED BOOBERY

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Online kavah

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42749 on: June 6, 2020, 12:32:03 am »
^ ha ha, great stories, the John Lennon one ...  "Again!"   ;D :hally

Offline Sangria

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42750 on: June 15, 2020, 09:37:50 pm »
Has anyone here seen Gordon Banks play? I'm watching a video of him, and there's a bit of him rushing out to clear the ball. Reading up about him, it appears that he would be what's now described as a "sweeper keeper", but I've never seen him called that.
"i just dont think (Lucas is) that type of player that Kenny wants"
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http://www.redandwhitekop.com/forum/index.php?topic=267148.msg8032258#msg8032258

Offline JohnnoWhite

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42751 on: June 17, 2020, 07:40:51 am »
At times back then in our old game (50's/60's onwards), Gordon did what he instinctively felt had to be done. None of us fans gave much of a shit about giving it any special "name" back then. He just did what he believed was necessary to clear the ball away from any goal danger.

He wasn't the only keeper who did it either. Harry Gregg at my club would take very similar actions if he thought it necessary. 

But you know what they say about keepers being a bit looney, even though these guys sometimes called it wrong and would cock up. But essentially, they'd no doubt do it again - and again - if they judged the circumstances right there and then justified it.
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Offline Mutton Geoff

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42752 on: June 18, 2020, 07:27:50 pm »
Back after giving myself a decent break from this at times self harming madhouse,

 loving the stories my father moved to the isle of Man years ago and one day while in Douglas i nipped in the gents and found myself in the stalls next to a looking worse for wear Bernie Winters ( thankfully minus the dog) i decided not to say hello given the state of him:

in the early to mid seventies one of the young chefs i worked with got into a relationship in South London and invited us down for a party when went down to visit his girlfriend who turned out to be Gary Glitter's Ex wife. Ann or Mrs Paul Gadd not sure if this lad and her stayed together,

Hope you are all keeping well.
A world were Liars and Hypocrites are accepted and rewarded and honest people are derided!
Who voted in this lying corrupt bastard anyway

Offline jambutty

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42753 on: June 19, 2020, 01:30:17 am »
Ey up lads and lasses.

Was searching for summat on the Cunard Yanks and it took me back 10 years to a Shanklyboy post.

Some great ripostes back then with a few long gone arses.

Check 'em out.

https://www.redandwhitekop.com/forum/index.php?topic=219996.6160
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Offline Dam Sodd

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42754 on: June 25, 2020, 11:56:19 pm »
Just came on for the 1st time in ages to say congratulations to all the auld arses.. dunno how many of you are still on here but love and light to all. Here's to the 20th YNWA
Cool down and play

Offline Perham

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42755 on: June 26, 2020, 01:57:38 am »
From one of the younger fans who's seeing us win it for the first time congratulations to you  auld arses :)
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Offline So… Howard Philips

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42756 on: June 26, 2020, 01:23:00 pm »
Back after giving myself a decent break from this at times self harming madhouse,

 loving the stories my father moved to the isle of Man years ago and one day while in Douglas i nipped in the gents and found myself in the stalls next to a looking worse for wear Bernie Winters ( thankfully minus the dog) i decided not to say hello given the state of him:

in the early to mid seventies one of the young chefs i worked with got into a relationship in South London and invited us down for a party when went down to visit his girlfriend who turned out to be Gary Glitter's Ex wife. Ann or Mrs Paul Gadd not sure if this lad and her stayed together,

Hope you are all keeping well.

Mike and Bernie Winters were playing the notorious theatre in Glasgow. One of them was playing a flute or something similar on stage and on his own. The big, gormless one then stuck his head around the stage curtain and said in his gormless voice "Hellooo" at which a local wit bellowed out,

"Fuck me, there's two of them"

Offline jambutty

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42757 on: June 29, 2020, 09:31:07 pm »
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/v/3iyRFGzy0vs" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" class="bbc_link bbc_flash_disabled new_win">https://www.youtube.com/v/3iyRFGzy0vs</a>
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Offline Rhi

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42758 on: July 9, 2020, 10:06:26 am »
Sorry to butt into this thread :) but I was just wondering if any of you more seasoned members of the forum might have memories that stretch back to 1960? If so, could you have a little look at this thread and see if it rings any bells with you? It's re: the 1960 European Cup Final / Semi Final. Thank you!

https://www.redandwhitekop.com/forum/index.php?topic=345606
“Above all, I would like to be remembered as a man who was selfless, who strove and worried so that others could share the glory, and who built up a family of people who could hold their heads up high and say 'We're Liverpool'.” - Bill Shankly

Offline RedBootsTommySmith

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Re: Shanklyboy's auld arse thread - Over 1000 Pages of Wisdom For Young Uns!
« Reply #42759 on: July 9, 2020, 09:19:22 pm »
Been a while since I’ve posted here, but wanted to give JohnnoWhite an acknowledgement regarding this young lad Mason Greenwood. I’ve watched him a few times, now, you’ve got a real gem on your hands, there, Johnno. Maybe next season will be spicy, after all. I haven’t enjoyed watching a Man U player so much since Bobby Charlton!
Victorious and glorious....