genius

thank you for introducing me to this site. It is all worth it:

And along with all those great players, QPR has always had its fair share of celebrity fans. Right now, these include Leslie Thomas, Martin Clunes, Robert Smith out of the Cure, Michael Nyman, this podcast’s most ardent admirer (and the man who ensures the staff at Southwark Crown Court never have to worry about being made redundant) Pete Doherty, Vanessa Redgrave and – all rise! - the mighty Mick Jones of The Clash.

Of these good folk the other night there was precious little to be seen. They were very probably on the ground (Mick may have had a gig; Pete may have been involved in a low speed car “chase” with the feds; Vanessa may have been dining with her long-time squeeze Franco Nero, the Italian actor beloved of a million spaghetti westerns, who knows?), but they were not in the director’s box with Flav. No, up there were QPR’s noveau royal family, a ludicrous freak-show of new football fans.

Tamara Beckwith was there. The “It” girl. I never understood what the “it” in “it girl” meant. I always assumed it was some sort of error that occurred when her careers officer was photo-copying their report on the youthful Tammy. It was meant to say “twit girl”. Or something worse. Anyway, she was there. As was Naomi Campbell. Ms Campbell is a former girlfriend of Flavio’s, so is Heidi Klum; clearly Signor Briatore knows a very good dating agency! Campbell is, of course, a supermodel, a singer, a novelist, a perfumier, a former druggie and a maid-basher. But nothing on her CV or charge sheets suggests she has even the slightest interest in football. Hell, even in the spare time between previous paramours - Flavio, Adam Clayton, Robert De Niro, Usher, Sly Stallone, Eric Clapton and Joacquin Cortes - she hasn’t even dated a footballer! I could be wrong about this (I once worked with model Jodie Kidd and she knew a ton about the game), but Naomi watched the “action” with a slight look of befuddlement playing about her features, like she’d seen something like this before, but was wondering what had happened to all the polo ponies?

It should be noted at this stage that both Flav and Naomi have been very busy lately. Quite apart from “getting into” the Superhoops, a couple of weeks ago they caused apoplexy among ecologists (what Mark Smith of The Fall might have called “Conservation Consternation-ah!”) by revealing plans to build a massive and exclusive casino in Kenya – one of the world’s poorer countries – right smack dab in the middle of the habitat of an endangered turtle. Oh, and the casino is to be called Billionaire’s Resort.

You’re laughing. But you should be crying. ‘Cos today it’s QPR; next week your club. And you may not be as lucky as the Rs. You may get a less famous owner and even lower-level celebs. Just imagine: the takeover battle for your club is over; it’s the first home game since the dust settled; there, gazing lovingly at the pitch you’ve adored since you were a nipper, is the new owner, seeing it for the very first time. He is Tam Paton, former manager of the Bay City Rollers (check Wikipedia for his colourful career since then!), and alongside him sit his pals, Shabnan off Big Brother and the bloke from the Cillit Bang ad. You may love and cherish and devote yourself to your team but – like Flavio and Naomi and Tamara – they’re the masters now…