Sven
My name-dropping knows no bounds.
I went to a press conference the day before Sven Goran Erikkson announced he was stepping down as England boss, a time when speculation about the manager's future was rampant, and all he wanted to do was talk about the football.
"Time for one more question" said the Sven-wrangler. Two hands went up - mine to ask about Sven's attitude to picking Chelsea players for England who don't even get a game in their enormously expensive squad, and some woman. He pointed, unsurprisingly, at the blonde.
"Do you think," said the no-tail, "they should play football indoors during the winter?"
About 150 hacks, to a man, said "Oh for fuck's sake" under their breath.
I nearly spoke to Svennus.
I went to a press conference the day before Sven Goran Erikkson announced he was stepping down as England boss, a time when speculation about the manager's future was rampant, and all he wanted to do was talk about the football.
"Time for one more question" said the Sven-wrangler. Two hands went up - mine to ask about Sven's attitude to picking Chelsea players for England who don't even get a game in their enormously expensive squad, and some woman. He pointed, unsurprisingly, at the blonde.
"Do you think," said the no-tail, "they should play football indoors during the winter?"
About 150 hacks, to a man, said "Oh for fuck's sake" under their breath.
I nearly spoke to Svennus.
posted by Alistair Coleman at 4/22/2006 08:58:00 pm
3 Crumbs:
It's idiotic questions like that that make the rest of us look bad.
But, wow! You nearly spoke to Svennus! You are The Dude, Duck. THE. DUDE.
Yes. Yes I am.
I am bound by Chatham House Rules not to tell you of the question I nearly asked Jack Straw.
Dye your hair blonde, Scary.
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