A likkle piece of this and likkle piece of that


In my yard back in the day, it was a strictly “1 to 5” affair. My old man – a staunch character at the best of times (but who is also known to leave Kleenex on his eyelids a la cucumbers just in case the waterworks come on during the sob-stories of reality tv auditions) let us have a short term loan deal with London Cable back in primary school. I and my younger siblings feckin’ loved it.

Watching Nickolodeon, Roger aka Droopy on Sister Sister get continually told to hop it a few weeks earlier than the T4 re-run, Ally McCoist being able to simultaneously finish his scram and a sweeping counterattack and my mum get gassed flicking through channels with fat preachers whose only form of cardio would come from hoarsely shouting into a mic on a day of rest. He soon scrapped the cable and we were back to being terrestrial.

A couple of years passed and the only sky we could afford was the one above our heads. So I had another trick  which involved using binoculars from your finest supermarche – Lidl – to get a glimpse of knockout European football from the block across even though you were a ten minute bop away from the stadium in question. The severity of our viewing situation was often made all the more real when he (or she…I’m just assuming it was a bloke…Beers,Birds,Balls Waheeeey!) would close the curtains.

Salvation was soon found in an eight lettered word. Freeview. No Live Football from the continent but a fictional team on Sky Three who could’ve been easily sponsored by Fry’s Turkish Delight. I heard about Dream Team, yet I wasn’t able to witness the series in it’s prime. Neighbours on BBC1 when Jarrod Rebekchi rocked a ponytail and the eldest Kennedy son Malcolm stopped making regular cameos every month or so (Was he seeing a bird from Qantas or summat? The geezer is partly responsible for global warming with all those airmiles…baaaaare mileage) was soon relegated in my after-school viewing schedule.

Set in the fictional town of Harchester, Dream Team followed the trials and tribulations of Harchester United – a team that suffered the same plight of many teams in the top flight via it’s players and people connected to the club through sex, racism, drugs, suicide and even touched upon homophobia.  On occasion, the odd cameo from the real world of football would overcook it thinking they were in Heartbeat and give a Razzie-worthy performance.

There were a few things I found pretty jokes about it:

1)The manner in which the creators tried to clean up the New Den in Millwall and pass off that shithole aka Hade’s yard.

2)Certain players over-enthusiastic goal celebrations after putting one away…Calm it mate you haven’t scored a last screamer a la Gerrard against Olympiakos.

3) Chopping and changing between archive Premiership highlights and the ten a penny thespians on the pitch with camera shots panning to their boots before the ball hit the back of the net.

4)  Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink aka The Torpedo Toepunt always being used as a double for Curtis Alexander.

5) The leg-end that is Karl Fletcher. A fictional character more widely known than his real professional namesake (the current player manager of Plymouth Argyle) the gifted youth product was the club’s most famous player who fell out with a number of gaffers due to his cassanova antics, partying and bravado.  He left for Spain and the Middle East but on each return he looked ready to be culled for a Roast rather than cut the mustard on the pitch. The club’s all-time leading goalscorer always provided a classic chuckle and was even caretaker manager for a brief period too.

6) Before he trademarked ‘Tekkers’ to the point of creating his own clothing range, Andy Ansah won the role of Assistant Manager after the high-profile  battle between himself and Winston from Eastenders billed by the Sun as the ‘Tussle of the TV Tokens’. Like his stalwart East-End counter – cuz, he didn’t really say much on screen but behind the scenes, Ans was working hard as a football consultant to ensure the actors were on point like a decimal, tight like a tiger and as willing as Kim Kardashian after she’s spotted a large weapon of mass destruction…and how could I forget a blank cheque.

7) Last but not least. Viv ‘Jaws’ Wright. This fella was mental. Ok. You didn’t hear me, so let me reiterate. This fella was FUCKIN’ MENTAL. I am of the opinion that he was based on former “Deutschland Number Eins, Deutschland, Deutschland, Number Eins” and Arsenal badaman Jens Lehmann. You didn’t wanna cross him and God forbid if you entered his 6 yard box to try and block him off. You would feel the crack of his studs and wake up with a permanent  Shortbread pattern on your back.

Enjoy the selection of classic Dream Team clips below.

Take that back mate…back to your retirement home in Spain. Zinnnny!

Watch em all scurry like Godzilla has come to the ends.

Live on Sky Sports. Casual. On another note, Rodney Marsh =24 carat bastard.

100% Convinced Lehmann did this to Manuel Aluminium and Rami Shaaban

Yeah. We’re all gay!

G’wan the JAWS.

So over the top. Leave that shit to Hollywood.

Probably the most classic clip of all. Gets the WHEEL each and every.

Lynda Block….Zinny! P.S Bun Don Barker. Top Wasteman.


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