The Blackstone Code – Episode 6

The story so far:    Professor Padraig O’Riordan, an expert in football cryptography at the University of Liffey (formerly Dublin Polytechnic), is visiting Preston when the curator of the National Football Museum, Jack Salter, is murdered.  Tara Farmer-Palmer (T F-P), the local constabulary’s football cryptographer, helps O’Riordan to escape from investigating officer, Chief Inspector Freddie Flintoff, in a Chieftain tank.  O’Riordan has worked out that a bizarre clue left by Salter refers to a book by Mike Blackstone and that the book contains clues to the whereabouts of the real Jules Rimet Trophy.  In order to visit ‘Blackstone expert’ Steve Field they ditch the Chieftain at Lancaster Services and call a taxi, unaware that the tank has been discovered by local coppers.  Now read on…

 

          Padraig O’Riordan, in his sideline as an author of ‘tuppenny dreadful’ novels, realised that an episodic style might lead, if he wasn’t very sure of his stuff, to losing track of the plot, no matter how slender that may be.  The taxi driver asked where O’Riordan and T F-P wanted to go, the Irishman gave him the vague instruction “Down the A6”, not knowing Steve Field’s exact address.

 

 

          Back in the police control room, DS Fuzzyduck excitedly approached Flintoff.  “Sir,” he said. “They’ve found the tank at Lancaster Service Station.”

          “Lancaster ?” replied Flintoff.  “Why Lancaster ? I thought O’Riordan would try to flee the country.  Have the service station searched.  I want them found.”

 

 

          The taxi exited at Junction 33A of the M6 and joined the A6.  The radio, which had been burbling incomprehensible messages, suddenly burst into life.  “Car 67.  Come in, car 67.”  The driver tapped the button on the side of the microphone for the radio. “Control this is six-seven here.  I can hear you loud and I can hear you clear.”

          “Erm,” hesitated the person at the taxi control room. “Can you come back to base, please ?”

          “I’ve got a fare.  You know I’ve got a fare.  I haven’t finished this job yet,” replied the driver.  “What’s the problem ?”

          “Erm, it’s, uh,” stumbled the operator with a nervous laugh. “There’s an urgent problem with you vehicle.  Can you come back in, please ?”

          T F-P leant forward and pressed something through her jacket into the driver’s midriff.  “I’ve got a gun here,” she said.  “Stay calm and no-one gets hurt.”

          O’Riordan hoped that the list of those likely to get hurt was limited to one.

          “Pull over, give me the keys and then get out,” she continued.

          The taxi driver dutifully got out of the cab and handed over the keys.  T F-P trained her attention on the driver and held out the keys to O’Riordan

 “You drive,” she said.

          “Me ?” said O’Riordan.  “But ... but... I’m from rural Ireland, where everyone owns a pony.  I’ve never learnt to drive.”

          “Very well,” said T F-P.  “I’ll have to do it.”

          They got back in the taxi and drove off, leaving the driver shaking by the road way.

          “I…erm…I,” stammered O’Riordan.  “Didn’t realise you had a gun.”

          “I don’t,” said T F-P removing a tablespoon from her jacket pocket.

          O’Riordan was glad that T F-P had taken a specialist police driving course so that she could keep control of the vehicle with only on hand on the wheel.  The writer in him knew that underdescription of a character’s appearance, as well as speeding up the story, meant that you could make things up as you went along and that anybody could easily have a Batman-style utility belt equipped for all the perils that they may encounter.

 

 

“Sir,” DS Fuzzyduck said triumphantly. “We know that O’Riordan and Farmer-Palmer got a taxi from Lancaster services.”

“Good,” said DI Flintoff.  “But where are they now ?”

“The taxi firm can’t contact the driver,” replied Fuzzyduck. “So, erm, we don’t know.”

“Well, find them, Fuzzyduck. FIND THEM !”       

 

 

         

          The hijacked taxi pulled into the gravel drive of a large Edwardian mansion.  O’Riordan and T F-P got out and pulled the old-fashioned doorbell.  A small, middle aged woman answered the door.

          “What is it that you want ?” she said in an Edinburgh accent, which was the only thing to dispel similarities with Father Ted’s Mrs Doyle. 

          “We wish to see Mr Field,” responded O’Riordan.

          “I’ll see if the master will see you.  Who shall I say is calling ?”

          “Professor O’Riordan. Padraig O’Riordan.”

          The woman shut the door behind her, leaving O’Riordan and T F-P standing in the dark in the portico.  Shortly she returned and ushered them in.

          “You’ll have had your tea,” she said.  “The master is in the library.”

          O’Riordan and T F-P entered the vast, book-lined room.  To one side sat a man in a smoking jacket, so close to a blazing open-hearth fire that, like Roald Dahl introducing Tales of the Unexpected, you expected his trousers to catch alight.

          “Ah, come in,” said the figure in a stagey manner that, O’Riordan thought, would make him an ideal character to be played in a film by one of Britain’s gay theatrical knights – or possibly even peer – giving him the chance to go right over the top.  “I was just perusing an anthology of Charlie Buchan’s Football Monthly.  What is it that you want at this time of night ?”

          “Erm, we want information,” said O’Riordan.  “About Mike Blackstone and the followers of Blackstone and the search for the real World cup.”

          “Slowly, slowly,”  said Steve Field, for it is he, as if you hadn’t guessed.  “Too many questions for an old, hobbled man to answer.”

          O’Riordan had not noticed until now the small crutch in the fireplace, looking much like Tiny Tim’s, the Dickensian character, not the Jewish American ukulele player who had a hit with Tiptoe Through The Tulips.  Just then, the maid returned.

          “Will the lady and gentleman be staying, sir ?”

“No, Agnes, they will not,” said Field.

“Very good, sir,” said the maid retreating from the room.

“That was Agnes Dea,” remarked Field.  “She has been my faithful servant and protector for many years.  I don’t know what I’d do without her.  Please take a seat and I will explain to you the rumour – and it is mere conjecture – about the true whereabouts of the real World Cup.”

“We already know that the Real FA replaced the trophy with one made by John Noakes and stole the real one back,” said T F-P.

“Ah, but that is only the half of it,” replied Field with the air of a man about to go off on one.  O’Riordan thought that such a monologue as Field was about to embark on would, while advancing the plot, make a bad screenplay as a movie would need to use it as an overdub or intercut it with flashbacks and action scenes.

“Well,” continued Field.  “There are those that say it never left the country and that it was the replica that was stolen in Brazil.  But the true followers of Blackstone believe that the trophy was taken to Mexico for the next World Cup Finals.  The pre-tournament farrago with Bobby Moore and the bracelet in Bogota was the Real FA having a dry run for stealing the trophy itself.   That is, of course, if it could not be returned to England by deeds on the playing field.  And even when that was lost, the tournament had been rigged in such a way that three of the four semi-finalists – England should have been the fourth rather than Germany – had won the trophy twice so they would keep it in perpetuity if they won it again.  It would then be simple to steal the trophy back and the Real FA would have ample time to do so.  This is hinted at by Mike Blackstone in ‘Brown Sauce’ when there is a robbery in a game he attends at Penrith with a crowd of 87; naturally he and Hugh Elwood as the two newcomers are the chief suspects.  There are those that say that the robbery and rumours that Penrith were soon to move grounds are more than mere coincidence.”

“But the World Cup wouldn’t be hidden in Penrith, would it ?” queried T F-P.

“Why not ?” said Field.  “Withnail and I is set in Penrith in the late Sixties and there are a lot of strange goings on in that !  Anyway, when Adam Crozier, a Scot – not to denigrate Miss Dea’s countrymen – was appointed as the FA’s Chief Executive and he, in turn, appointed Sven-Goran Eriksson as England coach, the Real FA had to take action to stop the whereabouts of the World Cup getting out.”

“The fire alarm business…” mumbled O’Riordan.

“Fire alarm ?!” enquired T F-P.

“Fa-rye-a A-lam,” confirmed O’Riordan.  “It’s the Irish accent.”

“It turned out that Sven knew nothing, as did his successor, the fool McLaren,” said Field.  “And Mark Palios’s body was dumped in the North Sea, theatre of breams.”

“Bream,” said T F-P.  “The plural of bream is … bream.”

“Feck,” muttered O’Riordan.

Not having heard the expression before T F-P thought that it might have been a reference to Mike Atherton, and obliquely to Atherton Collieries where, indeed, the brown sauce was off, who had ‘FEC’ scrawled on his locker as a young professional in the Lancashire dressing room.  Newspapers had tried to convince the general public that it stood for future England captain, but others said the phrase was less complimentary and the E stood for Educated.

“You mentioned the Real FA,” O’Riordan remarked.  “What does that mean exactly ?”

“There is a school of thought that the FA is a front; Graham Kelly was an accountant, Crozier a PR man, Brian Barwick is a TV executive – not men used to running football.  The people who do run football, the power behind the throne, are the Real FA, with their ancient regalia, blazers, slacks and archaic rituals…”

“Archaic rituals ?” said T F-P falteringly. “Oh dear.  Oh my.”

Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Whatever’s the matter ?” asked Field.

“No, it’s just ..” she continued, now sobbing.  “No, it’s too horrible.”

“What is ?” said Field . “Do tell us.”

 

 

To be continued…

Any resemblance of any of the characters to any person, living or dead, particularly Steve Field, is purely coincidental.

Walkers Crisps Vote 2014

     There are 6 new flavours that - as Walkers seem to do every year - are competing to become a 'new' flavour in the Walkers range.  I have bought two large variety bags and will be trying them all.

Hot Dog and Tomato Ketchup

     Possibly a poor move to start with the one that I feel will be my favourite.  They have certainly captured the authentic flavour of a hot dog .  I did feel that when I finished the bag, that seems to have fewer crisps in than I remember from years gone by,  I actually wanted to eat more.  Possibly a little too similar to tomato ketchup crisps.

Ranch Raccoon

    When I explained to my brother, who lives in Canada, that Walkers were releasing a raccoon flavoured crisp and that I wouldn't be able to tell whether they'd managed to get the real flavour of raccoon, he asked me to read the ingredients.  When I got to 'Dorset sour cream', my sister in law shouted "ranch salad dressing flavour". Ah, problem solved; but I don't know what that should taste like either.  On eating the first one it was so sour that I had to get a drink to take the taste away, the second one tasted better, the third one sour again and so on alternately.  They tasted to me like curdled mayonnaise and although I finished the bag, it's not something I'd care to try again.  I'm sure the fact that for 24 hours afterwards I felt as if I wanted to vomit is a coincidence.  Other sites have reviewed these crisps, such as Grocery Gems, and have described them as 'meaty'.  I thought them sour.  My take on this is that we've been influenced by what we've read; the other reviewers saw the word 'raccoon' and expected meat, I read sour cream and expected sour. However, few of us have found them tasty.  Or, as a Devonian, maybe the Dorset put me off.

Cheesy Beans on Toast

      The one I was least looking forward to as I don't like cheese and don't like beans, but I do like toast. It was therefore a relief that they don't taste of cheese or beans but simply, as with a number of crisp flavours, the great taste of synthetic. I'd say this was like a cheap barbecue flavour, but might just stick with "like nothing that exists in the natural world". I may be doing Walkers a disservice as they do not state which sauce the beans were cooked in. Or if they were cooked at all.

Chip Shop Chicken Curry

     I'm guessing Walker's have labelled these 'chip shop' to avoid being sued by curry houses throughout the world.  On tasting it seems that what they were aiming at was the curry sauce that you get to dip your chips in.  And jolly nice they are too. Or maybe it was just the fact that they're made with free range chicken from Devon.

Pulled Pork in a Sticky Barbecue Sauce

     I was expecting to taste pork and to need to wash my hands afterwards.  Turns out that the crisps aren't sticky and the major taste is the barbecue sauce.  Again the great taste of synthetic. Possibly the most off putting thing is the name 'pulled pork'. I know it's a fashionable thing but to me it has unfortunate connotations.

Sizzling Steak Fajita

      A strong taste of peppers and, so I read, paprika. not an unpleasant taste but I don't like hot, spicy food.  Finding out that the inventor/ proposer is studying civil engineering simply reminds me of the (alleged) Yellow Pages entry - Boring: See Civil Engineers.

Order of merit:

Hot dog with tomato ketchup
Chip shop chicken curry
Cheesy beans on toast
Pulled Pork in Sticky Barbecue Sauce
Sizzling Steak Fajita
Ranch raccoon (frankly, cardboard would be rated higher than these)

Before compiling the order of merit I did try most of the flavours again. And some cardboard to check that I preferred it to Ranch Raccoon flavour.  I couldn't be arsed to vote as it would've mean registering on the Walkers site and quite frankly they can poke it.

Stickers: Second Epilogue

     And hopefully this is the last sticker blog, probably for ten years.  I ordered both the collectabubble stickers and Panini at the same time. The collectabubble ones turned up two days later by recorded delivery, at a cost of £4.70 plus £2 delivery.  Eight days after ordering I got an e-mail from Panini saying that the stickers would be delivered within fifteen days.  A further eight days later I received the stickers, including the fabled 00 Panini logo, at a cost of £3.39, having got a discount for joining the Panini club.  Thus I have completed the set with the only gap being the My Panini ad, which I'll have to draw myself as the paninicheapskates people haven't replied. 
     The total cost was:

                    Two boxes and album              £102-99
                    Forty extra packets                    £ 20-00
                    Collectabubble.com order           £ 6-70
                    Panini order                                 £ 3-39
                    Grand Total                             £ 133-08

     The roughly 600 swaps were given away to a colleague's son; I have no idea how well he has done.  Apologies to anyone who thought that I might be desperate to get rid of my swaps; I was, so I took them to work.
     The paninicheapskates people have had worldwide publicity, a short film made about them,  are having an exhibition and may be part of a Panini book. Me ?  Absolutely nothing.

Stickers: First Epilogue

  Possibly the first of many. So, I bought 40 more packets and in the first 10 packets got nine new stickers.  In the second ten packets, I got 2 new stickers and the wheels were definitely coming off.  In the third ten, I got 3 new stickers, meaning I needed the last ten packets - 50 stickers - to provide 21 new stickers if I was to get to the Panini order threshold.   I actually got five. Assuming a similar swap ratio I'd need another 30 packets to get to the magic fifty needed.
     Hence I decided to order enough to get to that threshold from collectabubble.com, but was surprised to find that they don't actually have every sticker. As they were ten pence and Panini charge fourteen, I ordered as many that I needed as I could  and the rest, including sticker 00, from Panini.  I got an e-mail confirming that the ordered stickers would be sent out from collectabubble, but  a rather vague order confirmation from Panini giving no estimate of delivery date.
      I haven't done a statistical analysis of the two boxes I initially bought to confirm if they conform to the Swiss mathematical findings because it's a lot of work and I can't be arsed.  An educated guess based on the fact that I didn't get more than three swaps of any one sticker is that it did match with their findings.

Stickers: World Cup Day 25

    So, the World Cup is over  but the sticker collecting goes on.  The predicted 2-1 to the land of silver went awry as they won silver.  An extra time goal from the bloggers' favourite Chas und Dave song, Götze.   And my bet from roughly a fortnight ago that Germany would win the Cup comes in. Bastian Schweinsteiger makes it through 120 minutes despite a "punch in the face" from Sergio Aguero that left a cut on his cheek.  The Argentina team group seems rather ironic given the eventual result and Rodrigo Palacio comes on in the 78th minute and misses a gilt-edged chance


Via affaritaliani.it

by trying to lift it over Neuer.  He also showcases  his awful rat's tail ponytail, which doesn't make up for the male pattern baldness which can't be seen from his World cup sticker, but is fairly obvious, along with the rat's tail trying to hide itself inside his shirt through shame, in a card showing him in his Genoa days.  He looks surprisingly like former Exeter City striker Daniel Nardiello.

Missing:  85 (hence got 555)

Swaps:         482
Complete sets: Colombia, Ivory Coast, Japan, Italy, Ecuador, France, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Iran and Germany.

      Least:              10   Cameroon and  South Korea (but also missing 8 of 24 stadium stickers)

      Most Swaps:    30   Iran  
                               28   Croatia, France

      Least Swaps:   2    South Korea
                              3    Cameroon and Belgium, and those Belgian swaps were all in the
                                    last six packets.

      Complete Pages:   31

      Most Individual Swaps: 3  Nineteen different stickers

    Longest Sequence of Stickers:   61   Numbers  421 - 481

    Longest missing sequence:    9   Numbers 627 - 635

     Betting total:      -£13.32

     I bought 40 more packets from the Co-op, in the belief that an average of one new sticker per packet - roughly what I was averaging near the end - will see me below 50 stickers.  I was served by a Polish assistant that a mate of mine thinks is mad.  He counted the packets silently, I was tempted to count them out loud but I'd have been counting in English and he'd probably be counting mentally in Polish.  In the first ten packets I get 9 new stickers.  A fair start, but below the required rate.
     Today I read of a guy who finished his 1996 Premiership sticker album by tracking down the six players he still needed - I don't fancy tracking down assorted Australians, Bosnians and South Koreans in nearly 20 years time.  But then he threw his album in the sea and wrote a book. Bloody publicity hound.

Via whoateallthepies.tv

     Before moving on, and I will be back with an epilogue or possibly more, there's something that's been bugging me for most of the tournament: why was Reni, the drummer of The Stone Roses, so keen to see the back of Spain ?

Via john-squire.com



 

Stickers: World Cup Day 24

      Third Place day. I didn't realise they actually got bronze medals, thought it was just a prestige

Via worldcupballs.info

thing.  Anyhow, today's prediction Brazil 0 Netherlands 1. Another chance for Brazil to humiliate themselves or possibly redeem themselves, although coming back from a 7-1 defeat won't be easy.
     With supreme irony it was 1-0 for thirteen minutes which was ended by the player whose sticker I got, Daley Blind, who is later carried off.  Brazil went on to complete conceding double figures in two games with a 3-0 defeat. 
     Well, it's over. I still need 92 stickers but have only 30 to reveal, so even the chance of ordering the last fifty from Panini has gone.  I've decided to take the Swiss survey I mentioned earlier as a guide - OK, I have no-one to swap with - but they recommended one box and forty packets, so I'm going to buy another forty packets and just over one new sticker per packet will see me to below the Panini order threshold.  If that doesn't work out then I will have to consider ordering from another company (eg collectabubble, who are cheaper per sticker anyway) despite hoping that ordering from Panini will bring the elusive 00 Panini sticker.  With my determination to finish the set by hook or by crook, I have asked paninicheapskates whether they will do a sticker of me to put in the 'mypanini' space on the same page as the 00 sticker.
     The Final prediction: Germany 1 Argentina 2, courtesy of stickers Bastian Schweinsteiger, the Argentina team group and Rodrigo Palacio.

Stickers: World Cup Day 23

      Think I mentioned yesterday that today's prediction - you may have noticed that due to the UK-Brazil time difference, with games ending late at night UK time, this blog is a day in arrears - is a 2-2 draw.  And that would have been a far more interesting game than the borefest we got. The stickers also throw up two no-shows Rafael van der Vaart and Ever Banega, while Dirk Kuyt gets to take one of the penalties and Pablo Zabaleta lasts 120 minutes.  The highlight of the game was Ezekiel Garay hoofing the ball into the crowd because he only had one boot on and wanted time to put the other back on.
     So Alex Sabella becomes the first (to the best of my knowledge) ex-Leeds United player to manage a side in the World Cup Final.  So a reminder of when stickers/ trading cards would sometimes be faked. An old Dauily Star trading card where Alex Sabella's face has been cut and pasted onto someone else's body, I think possibly  Frank Gray.

Via e-bay

 And if you thought tonight's game was a lot of balls...

Via spanishleeds.blogspot

With 101 stickers still needed and only 60 to reveal it's unlikely that I'll get down to the fifty ordering threshold of Panini - requiring a 85% success rate - so alternative means will be needed. The small profit of two correct results for the semis has brought me down to a loss of £17.95. It'll be a bit tricky to make that up from four fifty pence bets.
     And finally paninicheapskates can really show up how scary some of the stickers are. I give you potential Dr Who villain, Australia's Mark Milligan.