3rd April 1999
Easter.
What on earth has a bloody bunny got to do with it? I mean, Jesus died and rose again… for what exactly? Discounted Cadbury’s Twirls in Woolworths and a parade of chocolate eggs wrapped in foil. Somewhere along the line we’ve taken a fairly significant religious moment and turned it into a confectionery free-for-all.
Doesn’t sit right with me.
Packed Premiership schedule today as well — proper full card, which is some consolation. Merseyside derby should have a bit about it. Fowler back in after all that business in the papers about his fondness for the white stuff. Coke, not milk. Absolute rascal, but you can’t argue with the goals. Perhaps that’s his secret.
Skeleton staff at the Beeb due to the aforementioned Easter nonsense. Always the same — either everyone’s in or no one’s in. Unfortunately I fall into the former category. Can’t exactly cry off, can I? I’m the bloody face of the thing.
Shame, really.
Family are all back home in Ennis this weekend. No doubt they’ll be down St Patrick's Catholic club, supping Guinness and reminiscing of years gone by on the Emerald Isle. Not a chocolate egg or bunny in sight. Far more appropriate, if you ask me.
Got to go.
There’s a knock at the door — probably Garth Crooks. He’s been hovering about for the last half hour. He's doing a whip-round for Lawrenson shaving his moustache for Children in Need. Happens every year.
And every year, Mark bottles it.
Anyway. Happy Easter and all that.
— Des