Category Archives: Personal

How to beat the football betting system

So, that’s a big claim – but I kind of have the answer. Towards the start of last year’s Premier League season, I predicted the final standings. The prediction was based on a fairly simple premise; the table after 12 games is pretty much the table after 38 games. As I said then:

“I heard about the theory a couple of years ago and – give or take a bit of movement – the theory was sound. There’s normally a couple of big changes. And as I said before, you have to have an accepted error of one or two places around most teams.”

So, how did I do for the 2009/10 season? See for yourself below:

12 games / 38 games / movement

Chelsea / Chelsea (spot on)
Arsenal / Man Utd (+1)
Man Utd / Arsenal (-1)
Tottenham / Tottenham (spot on)
Aston Villa / Man City (+1)
Man City / Aston Villa (-1)
Liverpool / Liverpool (spot on)
Sunderland / Everton (+5)
Stoke / Birmingham (+6)
Blackburn / Blackburn (spot on)
Burnley / Stoke (-2)
Fulham / Fulham (spot on)
Everton / Sunderland (-5)
Wigan / Bolton (+2)
Birmingham / Wolves (+4)
Bolton / Wigan (-2)
Hull / West Ham (+1)
West Ham / Burnley (-7)
Wolves / Hull (-2)
Portsmouth / Portsmouth (spot on)

Pretty good, is my conclusion. Just five teams (Everton, Birmingham, Sunderland, Wolves and Burnley) finished more than two places away from their predicted finish. As many as six finished in the correct spot. The rest were within the expected error margin of two places.

If you’d bet on the champions, you’d have won. If you’d bet on the top four, you’d have won. You’d have lost on the bottom three bet, but only just. And that is a hard one to call, because there’s always one club that falls like a stone.

You can’t actually beat the bookie, obviously. But the 12 game system is probably as close as you’re going to get.

Normal service will be resumed soon…

10 reasons why Aston Villa FC are by far the greatest team

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The last month or so has been a reality check. I went with my Dad to the League Cup Final, thinking the game might be our opportunity to take home a trophy. One disappointing performance – and a very poor refereeing decision later – and our dreams were dashed.

More than just a defeat, the game proved to be a bit of a watershed. The Villa are still in the FA Cup but my natural Brummie despondency leaves me to conclude we’ll lose. We’re still in the hunt for fourth spot in the Premier League, too. Sky Sports would have you believe fourth spot is the promised land; I would vehemently disagree. We don’t win things very often and I would swap fourth place for victory in either of the domestic cup competitions in a heartbeat.

More to the point, I think we’d make an arse of ourselves in the Chumps League. The Villa lost in the qualifying rounds in this season’s Europa Cup and I fear a similar fate should we qualify for the European Cup (that’s the trophy’s real name, in case you’ve forgotten). I think the ‘race for fourth’ (T.M. Sky Sports 2010) will finish as follows:

(4th) Manchester City – Straightforward run-in; class in depth
(5th) Aston Villa – Not a bad run-in; not a great squad
(6th) Tottenham Hotspur – Bloody hard run-in
(7th) Liverpool – They are going nowhere fast

Which still doesn’t explain why I am being such a miserable swine when it comes to the Villa. Well, because as my Dad said: “What’s the point?” We don’t win trophies, we’re doomed to always come 6th in the League and – even we did qualify for the Chumps League – we’d end up out of the trophy and in debt. So, I had to have a think about why I still love the Villa. And here’s why:

We invented football – The Football League was invented by former Villa chairman William McGregor
We have a beautiful name – It’s almost poetic; I mean, just look at it: Aston Villa
We play in great colours – Not red, not blue, but claret, blue and gold
We won the European Cup – And no one can ever take that away
We are not Birmingham City – No more comment required
We have a great ground – Villa Park is a proper British football ground with four big, separate stands
We are not arrogant – Villa fans expect little and get little
We have won stuff – Every so often, things turn out right; we never take winning for granted
We are the Samuels family – Me, my Dad, my Grandad, my Great Grandad are/were all Villa fans
We had Paul McGrath – And he is God

Ah, I feel better now. Bring on Chelsea! Bring on the Chumps League!

Shoegazing and post-rock: Sad Songs Say So Much

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A mate of mine wanted me to put together a playlist of shoegazing and post-rock tunes. I have obliged (actually, I hope he has a Spotify account).

What is shoegazing and post-rock music? Basically, songs that use heavily processed and layered sounds to create a dense, euphoric sound. Shoegazing can be traced to the effects-heavy music of the Cocteau Twins and My Bloody Valentine, through the post-rock layers of Seefeel and Mogwai and on to the contemporary nugaze of Engineers and The School Of Seven Bells.

Some find the music depressing. I find the sadness uplifting; there’s so much more happiness in a minor chord. Here’s the tracklisting and a quick description of each track:

Tracy – Mogwai: Any song that starts with a taped conversation describing a fight by band members is bound to be great
Blown A Wish – My Bloody Valentine: Possibly the best pop song ever written
My Own Strange Path – M83: Intense and cinematic, sounds like the score to the solar system
Face To Face On High Places – School Of Seven Bells: Nugaze shoegaze that sounds a lot like latter-day My Bloody Valentine
Halving The Compas – Helios: Repetitive strains that remind me of the sun rising in the morning
Love Movement (Ulrich Schnauss Remix) – Revtone: Schanuss’ remix is like a slowed-down, cloudy Ibiza anthem
Catch The Breeze – Slowdive: Shoegaze classic that goes epic two minutes from time
Electric Counterpoint (Fast) – Steve Reich: Influential modern classic echoed throughout post-rock
Davyan Cowboy – Boards Of Canada: Nice work, nice sound
Into The Sea – The Album Leaf: Wonderful timing allows the layered sound to build carefully
Plainsong – Seefeel: Years ahead of its time and almost two decades old, unbelievably
Brighter As We Fall – Engineers: Sounds like Slowdive, which is good
Ostinato – Eluvium: Another epic score for searching the solar system
Light Through The Veins – Jon Hopkins: Like a pure dance take on Seefeel
Suckling The Mender – Cocteau Wins: If ‘Blown A Wish’ isn’t the best pop song ever, this is
The Loom – Bark Psychosis: An amazing post-rock first from the most under-rated band ever
Blowin’ Cool – Airiel – A discordant treat
Ba Ba – Sigur Ros: Post-rock music box for a ballet performance
The Music In My Head – Daniel Land & The Painters: More modern-day nugazing; nice
Miniature 9 – Matthew Robert Cooper: Just impossibly sad

Football finance and the folly of championship dreams

South Woodford Waitrose and a £25 car parking ticket

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I guess you probably think Waitrose is a classy store. Your call, I guess – but the following example of (non-)customer service has left me changing my perceptions of the highly rated retailer.

Shopping at Waitrose is normally great. Part of the John Lewis Partnership, it offers a smashing range of products, is better priced than most people believe and is connected to the brilliant online shopping specialist Ocado.

Unfortunately, a recent experience has left me to conclude that Waitrose is also the kind of retailer that allows an outsourced firm to charge a family (one Dad, a pregnant Mum and a three-year-old daughter) £25 to park for more than two hours in their car park as they spend more than £100 on a weekly shop. Thanks Waitrose.

Rather than drone on like a demented consumer champion (any of my neighbours in Wanstead will tell you that I have already bored them senseless about the incident), have a look at the following droning letter of complaint I sent to Waitrose HQ. And get bored by that instead:

To whom it may concern

I am writing to complain about an incident during a recent visit to the Waitrose store in South Woodford, London. As a regular customer that has received many years of quality customer service from the Partnership, I was dismayed to see the following incident occur.

My heavily pregnant wife, my three-year-old daughter and myself parked in a family bay and shopped as normal in the store. We completed our shop and, on returning to our vehicle, found a £25 parking ticket because our car had been parked in the same place for more than two hours.

First, and as can be seen by the included receipt, we completed quite a large shop. Buying food during a busy weekend is always a time-consuming process and is likely to take a considerable period of time.

Second, your web site refers to the friendliness of the Partnership experience. We met three groups of friends and spent time talking to your affable till attendant. We would not, however, have opted for the friendly experience if we knew there was a chance it would cost us £25.

Third, my three-year-old daughter had to be changed in the toilet. Again, this incident took a considerable period of time. My daughter also likes to look at the children’s books and magazines. While we appreciate the distraction, we would not have dallied if we had known it would cost us money.

In short, I can understand that your company might find a requirement to charge people that chose to stay in your car park and not shop in the store. But when a family spends £100, I think it is reasonable to expect that they will not be charged £25 for the experience.

Best regards

Mark Samuels

So, that letter was sent a few weeks ago. What do you think happened? Well, they wrote back quickly – which was nice. And was there a big apology? Er, not exactly:

Dear Mr Samuels

I was sorry to learn that you were unhappy with the car park charges at our South Woodford branch and would like to take this opportunity to explain our reasoning for these changes.

OK. Apology – good start. But look closely; they’re sorry that I am unhappy – not sorry the incident occured. Not looking so good now, especially when they say they’re going to explain their reasoning for the charges (also worth noting that there’s an extra space before South Woodford on my copy of the letter. The more cynical might suggest that the name ‘South Woodford’ has been simply copied and pasted into a standard letter; that’s what the more cynical might suggest…).

Whenever it can Waitrose is keen to provide unlimited free parking. Unfortunately, this is not always possible especially in areas where we must conform with local restrictions or the car park is under the control of the local authority.

Fair enough, they have limited spaces and I guess some people park and don’t buy stuff in the shop. But what’s this…?

At South Woodford there is a very high demand for the number of spaces, and to ensure there is a continual turnover of spaces so all of our customers can find a space during peak periods, Britannia Parking Limited control the car park by introducing a charge after a reasonable period of time. You would therefore need to contact Britania direct.

Woah! So to ensure shoppers can find a space, they fine you after a couple of hours. What? I spent £100 in your store – what on earth has ‘reasonable period of time’ got to do with justifying a turnover of spaces when you’re actually spending cash? If they want to keep spaces free for customers, fine – but surely not by charging people that are in the store shopping. And while I’m on the matter, what is ‘reasonable’? Does it not include spending cash, looking after your kid and having a chat with people? Clearly not.

I would like to thank you for taking the time to bring this matter to attention.

Fine, it’s given me an opportunity to moan and some free content for my blog. So, thanks to you, too.

I appreciate that whilst what I have written will not have been what you wanted to learn, I am glad to have had an opportunity to clarify our position.

Good for you. And you’re right; it isn’t what I wanted to hear – or, more importantly, what I expected.

I can assure you of our continued commitment to providing you with the service and merchandise you espect when shopping at Waitrose and hope this unfortunate incident will not deter you from shopping with us again in the future.

You’ve already failed to meet my expectations regarding service, Waitrose. But why would it deter me from shopping with you again? I’m not going to cut off my nose to spite my face; I like your shops. But I tell you what it will do – it will make me angry and push me to write a load of stuff on my blog about how disappointed I am. And I’ll tell everyone I know about how you left me feeling rubbish. Shame, really. I expected better.

Moral of the story? Don’t park in a mother and baby spot, and spend too long spending £100 in a Waitrose store. If you do, you’ll be charged an extra £25 for the experience.

Childish jokes from my daughter

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One of the great things about my three-year-old daughter is that she likes a laugh. She’s shy but, in the comfort of her own home, she really likes a laugh. Much to my poor wife’s chagrin, who usually has to cope with an over-excited child and a childish Daddy.

She’s spent the last couple of months experimenting with jokes. Egged on by an immature father and the ubiquitous Justin (he’s a bloke that presents loads of shows on CBeebies, including the ‘funny’ Gigglebiz), my daughter has tried to come up with some gags. As can be seen below, she’s managed to rip off a fairly standard formula – but the gags show a strong (how I can put this?) alternative flavour:

Why did the pelican cross the road? To go to the barbers.
Why did the mouse run up the clock? To go in the trumpet.
Why does the steam go in your eyes? Because it runs about.
Why does a cup jump into the air? Because it digs on your floor.
Why does a turtle walk on the land? Because it swims in the sea.
Why does a cup go on your shelf? Because it sits on your table.
Why does the turtle swim like a fish? Because it’s like you and me.
Why does a machine cross your toy? Because it goes to the centre, where’s it’s cool and fluffy.
Why does a cow jump over the fence? Because it wants to eat your supper.
Why did the vacuum cleaner stamp on the house? Because it made the children run about.
Why did the toilet cross his neighbours to get to his house? Because he bought something new to wear.
Why does the tree lamp have a leaf? Because it’s bonkers.
Why did the cat jump over the moon? Because it runs to the stocking.
Why did the deer have no eyes? Because it had no idea.

Apple iPad is unlikely to provide a relaxing read

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My wife knows nothing about technology. She doesn’t have a Facebook account and watching her search the web is more frustrating than watching Aston Villa fail to score in four successive Premier League matches.

She cares nothing for the bits and bytes of technology, like much of the world (an oft forgotten detail). But she did mention that she’d heard Apple had released some new technology.

“The Apple iPad,” I said, recognising that while she cares nothing for Steve Jobs’ latest device, she is equally unable to avoid media hype. The iPad – depending on your chosen review – is either a big phone, the greatest innovation ever (since the last Apple innovation, anyway) or the saviour of the publishing industry. Such hype suggests we’re all about to start reading books and papers on our iPads ; my wife’s response to that suggestion?

“Reading is all about relaxing, so why would anyone choose to read a computer screen?”

Quite (now get your own Facebook account and stop using mine to connect with your mates).

Wanstead, Tesco and the changing High Street

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I live in a place called Wanstead. If you live in London, it’s on the Central Line loop; if you don’t, it’s to the east. Wanstead is nice. My Dad is always saying: “What I don’t get about this London is that even when a place is nice, there’s something really grim just round the corner.”

He’s right, of course, but he lives in Warwick. And that is basically the posh Midlands. So, he’s a bit spoilt. But Wanstead – when it comes to London and it’s rather frustrating mix of nice and grim – is fairly grand. That sense of grandness is provided by the wide, tree-lined streets, some splendid period architecture and some lovely open spaces, such as the green on the High Street and Wanstead Park.

The village – if you can call Wanstead a village when it’s five minutes from the M11 and served by two Underground stations – has managed to retain a strong identity, particularly as the rest of east London is either being smashed for the Olympics or going to the dogs (or not, in the case of the former dog track at Walthamstow Stadium).

Then last week, a Tesco opened on the Wanstead High Street. It’s been a source of conjecture, debate and protestation. The store takes the place of a former Woolworth’s (RIP, you good retail friend). The protests against the store have been long and loud (hence the delay in the store opening). A particularly vocal compaigner has been a chap called Ashley Gunstock, who admitted using the Leytonstone Tesco branch after being ‘outed’ by a local newspaper. It’s been that sort of debate.

People objecting to the store say Tesco will kill shops on the High Street. Like elsewhere in the UK, shops are always opening and closing in Wanstead – and I guess the presence of a retail giant is hardly likely to help the independents. And the community of Wanstead – and it does have a nice community; we know all our lovely neighbours – seem keen to ensure the shop is empty.

Which is why I was surprised to see people virtually fighting to get into the Tesco earlier this week, while the local Co-op – which is normally packed – was the retail equivalent of the Mary Celeste: “It’s always like this now,” said one of the workers to me at the Co-op.

Change, eh? Who needs it? Virtually everyone, it would seem.

No football club has a divine right to success

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Football is a business. Actually, it isn’t – it’s a sport. But there’s a chance you might have forgotten, given the media’s obsession with football clubs and their cash concerns.

There’s one type of cash concern in football, like Accrington Stanley struggling to survive. And there’s another, where big clubs are struggling to stay as big clubs. Take Liverpool, for example.

Ex-footballers gracing screens with their oh-so-obvious banter keep telling the watching populace that Liverpool “simply have to qualify for the Champions League”‘ because of cash concerns and a need to attract the best players. But it’s a sport and I couldn’t give a stuff about who needs to be in a specific competition because of business issues.

Then there’s the big club justification – “Liverpool are a massive club that deserves to be in the Champions League”. Liverpool, of course, are a massive club with a “brand” (another dreadful term that has become associated to Sky-era football) that commands global recognition. Good for them. But such prestige does not mean Liverpool – or anyone else – has a divine right to be successful.

Look at Leeds, Newcastle, Nottingham Forest, Derby, Sheffield Wednesday, et al – all of whom are big clubs, finding they have no divine right to be in the top flight, never mind Europe.

Football is cyclical, you see and teams drop from the elite. Nothing is more sure. Liverpool are struggling, Manchester United have their own financial concerns – Manchester City are spending big, Spurs are on the up. Things change.

Look at the Villa. We were the biggest club in the world in the late ninteenth and early twentieth century; we were the global “brand”. Post-Second World War football in Aston has seen some high points and quite a few low points. At the minute, the Villa are thinking about being successful again. We shall see.

But no club has a right to success. And no club “has” to be in any competition, despite what the pundits would have you believe.