When all is said and pun

“Of puns it has been said that those who most dislike them are those who are least able to utter them.” - Edgar Allen Poe

God bless the pun. There's something universally enjoyable about a play on words. Recently, I've been hearing my fair share as a result of a potential bee's nest we thought we had in the eaves of our roof at home.

In fact it wasn't a nest at all, and apparently the numerous bees we saw buzzing around were probably just part of a larger swarm located elsewhere. It hasn't stopped the punning though, oh no.

It's amazing how many bee related jokes have been passing my way from friends, work colleagues and even unknown followers on twitter! Make your own decisions on what those puns were.

To paraphrase the tag line for a well known 'red top' - we love them (puns that is). From newspaper headlines to idle tweets, people get an unmatched sense of achievement from twisting their tongues around a particularly erudite juxtaposition of words. Never can the smugness induced by a well delivered pun be equalled. I'm almost moved to say it's punderful. (C'mon. I was only going to resist for so long.)

The problem is, as Frank Skinner once wrote, punning is addictive and sometimes it can evolve into a mild form of tourettes. You just can't help yourself no matter how awful you know the pun will be. Baddiel and Skinner in their World Cup Podcasts took it one step further, talking in-depth about 'football tourettes' whereby certain players names mentioned in TV commentary led you instinctively to act.

My personal favourite was Frank's revelation that whenever the German striker Miroslav Klose's name was mentioned, he felt compelled, almost against his will, to move nearer the television. The genius of this being that it's not even a vocal wordplay but a physical one, no utterance required. It's not even particularly clever yet it makes me smile.

See therefore how dangerous the pun can become? It excuses the utterer and in many ways embraces unfunny. Sarcasm's apparently the lowest form of wit but perhaps it is in fact the humble pun.

Fine by me. The pun is the comic tool of the everyman - an entrance into the world of wit for those not blessed with it. As a result, I'm happy to harbour its evils for they are well worth suffering when greeted with an absolute corker. Long live the pun and all who pale in her.

Album Review: It's Blitz - Yeah Yeah Yeah's

***
I've been listening to this album for a while now, and although I appreciate it, I'm still not quite sure what all the fuss is about. 'Q' Magazine gave it the dreaded 5 stars (something of a rubber stamp for overrated tosh) yet other furnishers of music review have been similarly enamoured.

'Zero' is an infectious enough slice of glitter ball sparkle, calling all to "shake a ladder to the sun" and is a worthy first single. Other moments of pop wizardry include the lilting 'Hysteric' and the possessive 'Runaway' but is this really enough to induce such rave reviews?

Perhaps my lack of inspiration is the result of seeing another 'indie' band losing the guitars and opening up the trunk labelled "80's synthesisers for post millennial reinvention".

I am a fan of the new penchant for electronica, it feels in many ways like we've finally broken free of the Britpop shadow that's so imprisoned our critical outlook for the best part of a decade. Even the era of the NME coined 'New Rock Revolution' was in many ways just the inevitable reaction to Britpops overblown pomp and bombast.

I think, my issue with 'It's Blitz' is that, well....it actually all seems very safe. Where should the line between dance enthused pop sensibilities and MOR blandness be drawn I ask? The Noisettes, another band that I initially admired, have recently crossed that imaginary line, deciding to drop their interesting melting pot of punk and soul in favour of appealing to the 'masses'.

To paraphrase a politician, let me make it quite clear, I've got nothing against pop music. Some of my best friends like pop music. Undoubtedly however, something has been lost during this intensive conversion.

It's probably not the case for Karen O and Co., I just don't find I'm moved by the 'Mull of Kintyre' leanings found on 'Skeletons' or the sigh inducing blandness of 'Soft Shock'. They're...well, just not charming. That's what is so infuriating.

These songs somehow seem stripped of charisma, of quirk, of warmth. 'Dull Life' and 'Dragon Queen' hit all the right notes but still leave me shrugging my shoulders - there can't be anything worse than that. To despise an album completely is at least evidence of a reaction. Here, I just feel lukewarm and that's unforgivable.

Food for the soul

"Food for the soul" - Inscription at the Berlin Royal Library.

I'm not sure why but I've recently been contemplating how exactly I came to work in a library?

I think my sudden need for self-enlightenment stems from my stumbling across a Word document on my work PC. The file was intriguingly named 'Libraries are....doc'.

It was instantly tempting to finish the sentence with any number of adjectives. 'Boring' perhaps or 'silent' more mundanely.

I eventually settled for, 'Libraries are... hedonistic dens of mind porn, where thought juices flow in a rainbow waterfall of cranial indulgence.'

Psychedelic churlishness to one side, within I found numerous quotes (my favourite of which adorns the title of this blog), some from famous names of the past, all profoundly arguing the library's importance to wider society.

Great! But how did I end up dipping my toe into this historic profession? I don't remember as a child dreaming of being a librarian (who would?), it was the standard 'football/rock and roll star' ambitions for yours truly.

Hopeless at Maths and the Sciences at school, I always tended towards the humanities and the arts. Coupled to this was the fact my Dad, working for an IT systems company when I was young, would always bring home cash registers, 286 and 386 PCs (remember them?), and later laptops for me to mess around on.

This mistaken enthusiasm for technology must have influenced my eventual decision to study A-Levels in English Literature, Geography and Computing - far from a standard mix. When it came to choosing a degree, I naively/ashamedly surmised that to work in IT would, a) earn me more money, b) more likely result in a job in the first place, and c) allow me to surf the web to my heart's content.

In reality, studying computing involved maths!! Suddenly, I had to be knowledgeable in how binary converts to hexadecimal and the complex workings of an operating system, memory, RAM etc, etc. The very words send me into a trance like state but this was far from the path to enlightenment. By the time I'd snapped out of my toner sniffing daydream, I'd already got a 'D' in A-level Computing and was weeks into my degree!!

A number of factors helped to save me. Firstly, the Information Science Dept, which ran my course in Information Management & Computing, was situated above the university library, secondly, I began to widen my interest in rock music and thirdly, there was an academic route back to fulfilling my web surfing pipe dreams.

Being in the library excited me. So much information, so many great works of literature, so many ideas. It's cliched of course but at 21, I literally felt like the possibilities were endless. I can't have read more than a handful of books, most of which were completely unrelated to my studies, but that was all the spark I needed.

Satre, Camus, Nietsche, Plath all these names suddenly meant something to me. My new found admiration for the Manic Street Preachers, whose album artwork, to which I was just then being formerly introduced, was emblazoned with writers quotes, suddenly resonating with my newly idealistic mindset.

Now, by focusing on the library related modules of my degree, I could begin to see worth in a career where access to knowledge for the majority was the ultimate aim, the nirvana that all information specialists aspired to. I ditched 'computing' and left the programming and system analysis behind.

If I wanted to be melodramatic I'd suggest that the opening line of 'A Design for Life' by the Manics, "Libraries gave us power", had a lasting effect on my career path. Maybe it did but perhaps the inscription from the Berlin Royal Library is more apt in truly answering the question I posed myself at the beginning of this blog....

It's food for my soul.

Top 5 - Favourite Chelsea Players (No. 1)

1) Gianfranco Zola

If I'm honest with myself, this is the moment I've been waiting for. Don't get me wrong, I love the previous 4 players I've highlighted but all of them pail in comparison to the little Sardinian.

I guess in many ways he's the player I'd always wanted to be. Diminutive in stature, such as I, I'm able to contrive some comparison between us, almost as if to say that with the right training and opportunity I could have been as good as him.

Ridiculous I know but surely that's what idolisation is, being able to live vicariously through that person in order to achieve a heightened perception of yourself?

From the moment Zola arrived in the Premier League, his skill, trickery and control mesmerised fans and opposition players alike. Watching him play, there would be little moments when he'd do something incredible, often a little flick or piece of instant control, not highlighted on Match of the Day but enough to make you grin and nod knowingly at the person next to you.

There are so many more significant moments too. The goal against Man United when he made their whole defence look like they were standing still, the back-heeled flick from a corner against Norwich in the FA Cup, scoring the winner in the Cup-Winners-Cup Final 17 seconds after coming off the bench and, perhaps my favourite, scoring against Wimbledon in the FA Cup semi-final at Highbury with a deft turn to bamboozle the defender.

My Dad (who having seen the likes of Osgood et al in the 70's still thinks Zola's Chelsea's greatest ever player) and I were lucky enough to have tickets to his tribute match at Stamford Bridge (not having been with Chelsea for ten years it couldn't be called a testimonial). It was the pre-season after he'd left to join Cagliary, the club he'd always said he wanted to finish his career with, and although he only played for the last half an hour, he was still the most talented player on the pitch.

At the end of the game he took a solitary lap of honour around the pitch receiving a standing ovation as he went. It was really quite an emotional moment and as he disappeared down the tunnel I could feel a very significant lump forming in my throat. We knew that we'd never see the likes of him again, mercurial yet so likeable and with an exemplarary attitude to the game. I merely turned to my Dad amongst the applause to say, "He's gone."

Wembley wonder

On Saturday I paid my first visit to the new Wembley Stadium.

I'd been to the old home of English football on numerous occasions and everytime been filled with a true sense of occasion and history as soon as those Twin Towers came into view.

My ticket to the semi-final had come at such short notice (through a friend of a friend) that the fact I was going to an FA Cup semi-final for the first time hadn't really sunk in. It certainly didn't give me time to consider what I'd make of this new incarnation of the stadium.

Somewhat unexpectedly, I was bowled over by it. Stepping out of Wembley Park tube station you're immediately greeted by Wembley Way stretching into the distance.

My eyes met the towering arch and my stomach twisted with excited anticipation. The fantastic view gave the whole thing a great sense of theatre - just what you need for arriving at such hallowed ground as this.

Indeed, the statue of Bobby Moore was surrounded by crowds of photographers as if worshipping at the feet of a deity, as if this one man represented all that is good about the history, glory and origin of the English game. Perhaps he does.

Once inside the stadium, the sheer scale is breathtaking. I'm used to four individual stands but Wembley is just one sweeping cauldron of fandom, reaching majestically to a gargantuan roof.

There's been so much controversy, delay and expense in its construction, and still managers moan about the state of the pitch, but let's put all that behind us now and cherish the focal point for our nations first love.

What we have is a fantastic and world class stadium still throbing with a sense of tradition, nostalgia and intangible speciality. I can't compare it to other great, modern stadia having never been to the likes of The Millenium Stadium, The Emirates etc. but regardless, Wembley still holds its magic for me, igniting a crackle and spark of electricity in my being. Wonderous.

Top 5 - Favourite Chelsea Players (No. 2)

2) Frank Lampard

There's simply never been a more consistent performer for the club in my lifetime.

Incredibly, Lampard Junior is fast approaching his fourth consecutive season of scoring 20 goals or more (better even than a certain midfielder at Liverpool).

However, as with said certain midfielder, it's not just the goals that maketh the man but the ability to single handedly grab the game by the scruff of the neck and make things happen.

Lampard does it in a more understated way, but when watching a Chelsea team in recent years it's unbelievable how much of everything good comes as a direct or indirect result of his input. Everything just seems to flow through him.

There are always moments that stick in your mind when you think to yourself, "Yep, that player is undoubted quality" and the moment in question was his goal against Barcelona in a 4-2 thriller of a 2nd leg in the Champions League Quarter Final's a few years back.

Controlling the ball on his chest, he swivelled and hit the ball on the half volley with what seemed consumate ease. Marvellous.

I have to admit, for no little time after his signing from West Ham for £11m, I did wonder whether he was ever to reach that level of quality. However, slowly but surely he established himself as a linchpin of Jose Mourinho's Championship winning side and it was rightly so, that he and John Terry were the focal point of the bus top celebrations that followed our first Premier League title in 2005.

Top 5 - Favourite Chelsea Players (No.3)

3) Dennis Wise

Alex Ferguson described him as a "man who could start a fight in an empty room", but perhaps more than that, he was the epitomy of a player all opposing fans loved to hate.

At a time when the influx of foreign players was changing the nature of the club beyond all recognition, 'Wisey' was the one player who seemed to encapsulate the roots of Chelsea.

Throughout the late 90's, Wise was the heart of the midfield but also the heartbeat of the club. The 'tea ladies favourite', he managed to bed in the likes of Vialli, DiMatteo and Leboeuf almost instantly, initiating them into pre-planned goal celebrations and press conference renditons of 'Singing In The Rain'.

More than just the 'cheeky chappy' with the 'Crazy Gang' outlook, he could play a little too. Again his abilities on the ball were subtle but many a time he kept play ticking over, winning posession and generally bossing the midfield while the 'superstars' struggled on a wet, away day in Middlesborough.

Perhaps his defining moment in a Chelsea shirt was during one of the teams early forays into the Champions League. A group game away to Milan was a massive fixture, of the type most fans are now used to, and his equalising goal in a 1-1, come from behind, draw gave rise to a chant that would be sung many years after the event.

"Oh Dennis Wise/Scored a bloody great goal/In the San Siro/With ten minutes to go." Not elegant but cheeky and memorable. A little like the man himself.