Monday, 5 January 2009



And I'm not even Irish. But it's such a lovely word - all singular and authoritative. You can row a few of them up like ducks on a mantelpiece:
Feck Feck Feck Feck

As a Northerner I really should be a Fook girl: my friend Richard says Fook. A lot. Poor Richard, he's been like a parent at the touch line waiting in vain whilst his offspring pisses about with the ball somewhere down the other end of the pitch. Except it's not his offspring - it's me, and the ball is me actually making some bloody decent contact. Richard, I'm sorry. This year I shall make amends.
Anyhow, I like Feck. Such a jolly looking thing. Me and it shall become friends this year.

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