THE diarist has never been particularly au fait with card games. I once, for instance, became embroiled in a lively game of strip poker during a ribald charity night at a vivacious nightclub of questionable repute in Goole and ended up with two corsets on.
“Poker face?” asked the sports editor. “Well, they were pretty tight,” I replied with a wincing recollection. “But you’re supposed to remove items of clothing if you lose, not put them on,” added an intrigued colleague who was gently thumbing his two of clubs. “Aye, but the problem stemmed from the fact that I turned up in the scuddy in the first place.”
Given that the diarist struggles to muddle through the complexities of a game of Snap, the idea of playing bridge would be akin to asking me to hold a conversation on homological conjectures in commutative algebra. My interest in said game was stirred this week, though, with the news that the world’s No.1 bridge player, Geir Helgemo, was suspended after failing a drugs test.
Rather like Dick Campbell, the 49-year-old Norwegian is renowned for his vertical thinking and preternatural skill. Helgemo has been rumbled, however, after testing positive for a giddy cocktail of synthetic testosterone and the female fertility drug Clomifene. Prior to his ban, Helgemo had built up quite the reputation. He was known as the “bad boy of bridge” which is quite a title in a pursuit more used to dank afternoons in community centres, some meat paste sandwiches and sharp exchanges between grumbling octogenarians.
Helgemo was recruited to represent Monaco at the behest of some Swiss businessman. He lived in luxury for a spell, picked up a fortune but forgot to pay his taxes in Norway and spent six months in jail. Apparently, Helgemo got the idea after watching a Rangers documentary. That figures. Let’s face it, Ibrox was a bit of a house of cards wasn’t it?
*PORN to ride? Perhaps not. A cycling club made up of adult entertainers has been stripped of its British Cycling affiliation. The Porn Pedallers Cycling Club has been met with, er, stiff resistance from cycling chiefs who say they “might damage the image of cycling in general”. Somewhat tenuously, this saucy situation reminded the diarist of Ronnie Corbett’s gag about wanting to start up a restaurant with topless waitresses. “I was put off by the overheads,” chortled wee Ron. Any excuse eh?
*THE pie’s the limit. We are in the midst of Great British Pie Week, a celebration of everything great about that down-toearth delicacy. Nothing tickles the taste buds as half time at the fitba approaches quite like the prospect of a slootery steak pie and a Bovril. Of course, the standard of said meaty offerings can vary greatly at grounds. Cordon Bleu? Some of them should be cordoned off ...
*ON this March date in 1934, the celebrated Russian cosmonaut, Yuri Gagarin, was born. Gagarin, the first man to venture into outer space, orbited the earth in 1961. “I looked and looked but I didn’t see God,” he said upon his return to terra firma. Funnily enough, that’s what Brendan Rodgers used to mutter to the staff at Lennoxtown until he finally got them to install the mirror in his office.
*AND we thought Scottish fitba was off its trolley? Shenanigans in Turkey make the rumblings here look like tea and cake with the vicar. Turkish third division club Sakaryaspor have accused an Amed SK opponent of cutting some of their players “with a sharp object” during a league game. The club have stated that a number of players went to hospital after the match with injuries while claiming that players were also attacked as they inspected the pitch before their away match and again during the warm-up.
A player from either side, meanwhile, was red-carded before kick-off. Sakayaspor reported the attack to the police, claiming the referee did nothing. Apparently said referee is now being touted for a lofty position in the Ladbrokes Premiership.
*BY all fist-shoogling accounts, becoming an ambassador for the Trump organisation is broadly equivalent to performing PR work for the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. It was hardly surprising then than Aberdeen defender and keen gowfer, Scott McKenna, took a fair amount of pelters for signing up as a club ambassador for the Trump International Golf Links at Menie on the outskirts of the Granite City.
McKenna, of course, has been the subject of much transfer speculation in recent windows with Aston Villa reportedly having a £7 million bid for him turned down by the Dons. As Trump may have waffled: “What you’re seeing and what you’re reading is not what’s happening. £7 million for McKenna? Fake news ...”
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