No more wrecking bars.

I don’t chain myself to broadcasting house to lobby for the future of a DAB radio station, nor do I own a Ramones t-shirt. I do, however, like music, and have been known to ‘gig’ from time to time.

I can’t profess to know who the up-and-coming artists are - my taste is pretty typical of a twenty-something to have lived through the 1990s. Oasis, loud, Kasabian, loud, with the former particularly satisfying when driving somewhere fast. 

Add to that what I will have to call a guilty pleasure, even though I don’t feel remotely guilty, in Coldplay. Now I know it’s not cool to like them, because, for whatever reason, a lot of people don’t like them, including to my deep regret, Super Hans from Peep Show. But I think I’m old enough and reasoned enough to say I’ve seen them twice and they have provided the best live spectacle to pass my eyes.

But I don’t write this as a debate over just *why* Chris Martin insists on drawing things on himself.

Despite being pretty rigid in my taste, I have branched off to see other live bands, admittedly along a similar theme. The Courteeners - the frontman is trying desperately to be Liam Gallagher and sort of manages to come across as a bit of a douche - I like, as I do Shed Seven, although the thought of a 42nd reunion tour really doesn’t make me want to get my Disco Down.

Once I was a bit obsessed by Embrace but in 2006 they, like many others, failed to get Gerrard and Lampard to play together to the harmony of ‘World at your Feet’, and there have been others. The Kaiser Chiefs support Leeds so I forgive them for some of the bilge they come up with, while I do find the Pigeon Detectives thoroughly excellent.

I’ve seen them all, christ I’ve even stolen a £5 Jet t-shirt from outside of Leeds University, and enjoyed them all. And, save for one ludicrously hot night at Fibbers in York when everyone had to remove their clothes just to stay alive, have stayed on the periphery of the ‘action’, standing in a spot which serves as a thoroughfare for everyone at the gig, but not really caring.

On Friday, however, after a year out of ‘the game’, I went along to Doncaster Dome to see the Vaccines. The last time I’d been at the Dome was just a fortnight ago to see some Premier League Snooker which, unless I am mistaken, wasn’t attended by anyone wearing a scoop-neck t-shirt.

I’m not old, I’m 27, but I found myself largely despising almost everyone there apart from the people I was with. I even despised myself. We waited in the concourse for the utterly awful support band to go (as a side note, ahead of watching Jet at Leeds, a member of the support stopped singing to say to a woman on the front row: ‘no love, we will not fuck off’) and were surrounded by what seemed to be a general ratio of eight lads to two girls, all aged between 18 and 20.

They were all together, fresh out of GCSEs. The boys were wearing scoop t-shirts, had swept hair which was shaved around the sides and faux diamond earrings which had a long stem behind them. The lads were high on the whiff of ginger beer and the girls drunk in their presence. 

Now, despite being happily married-to-be, I have rarely known what the secret is when it comes to women, however, I am fairly confident it’s not charging in to each other, calling each other a “fag c*nt” and then tossing up malteasers to catch in your mouth. Even I, the Mark Corrigan of the dating game, know that’s just not cool. And I think the girls did too, but they’d paid their £20 and they probably needed one of the lads’ dads to give them a ride home.

Inside the gig I could at least rid myself of the ‘boys’ as they went off to the front to ride the waves of similar-minded people. One of them, who my mate described as the “biggest c*nt” he had ever seen, was later spotted crowd-surfing, topless. I thought the initial assessment had been somewhat harsh, but I concurred now.

We slipped in at the back and were happily stood, waiting. We had swapped boys for men, the species not the band, and were now in amongst men my age going through a really wide repertoire of song. “Yorkshire, Yorkshire”. I love where I come from, but I don’t think Geoff Boycott spent eight million hours at the crease to one day allow a man with a t-shirt carrying an ‘I’m with Stupid’ motif to sing the word of the white rose.

I am being unkind, though, there were other songs too. “Lancashire, Wank Wank Wank”. That’s what Geoffrey would have wanted. “Oh Robin Van Persie..... Hmmm, not sure about that. I can’t remember the last time I went to a football match and burst into a rendition of Some Might Say.

Anyway, yes, the gig. The Vaccines came on and they were actually very good, despite the fact that the frontman’s stage presence amounted to coming on stage and shouting ‘DONCASTER’ before leaving with the word ‘DONCASTER’. The kids enjoyed it, they bounced, and I mean really bounced, to Wrecking Bar, which is possibly one of the most boisterous songs I’ve seen live.

The Vaccines have a repertoire of about 20 songs, all of which last two minutes each, so the whole thing was over pretty quickly. In between times, numerous collar-buttoned-up characters came over to the four of us, either suggesting we had barged them, offering us something from their hip flask or looking for a handshake. They spoke but we couldn’t hear them. For all I know, they were saying ‘I’m the biggest c*nt you will ever meet’. But that wasn’t true, because he was off crowd-surfing.

This all makes me sound really miserable. But I’m not. Today I will cook Sunday dinner while listening to the very same Vaccines songs, such was the amount to which I did enjoy them. But I won’t be wearing my coat, at the back of the room or avoiding cups of flying piss. What I mean is, save more Coldplay tours (I know) or an Oasis reunion, me and ‘gigging’, are over.

Glory Finally Here. Leeds 2 Palace 1.

Glory Finally Here.

That's a clever headline, right? Well, not really, I scammed the idea from the Yorkshire Evening Post's front page on Thursday and thought too few people would notice. Until I just said.

Anyway, yesterday saw the first game of GFH money at Elland Road and, despite all the noise saying it won't be complete until December 21, Neil Warnock's suggestion that the new money had made loan deals for Alan Tait and Jerome Thomas happen, means that is sort of already is complete.

Leeds beat Palace 2-1 and this is how I saw it.

Leeds manager Neil Warnock delivered on his promise that the season started today as his side kicked off their new era by ending Crystal Palace’s 14-game unbeaten run.

After six months of negotiations, United were this week bought by GFH Capital, and Warnock, having said anyone could have done his job for the first four cash-strapped months of the season, claimed today was the first day of his pursuit of a record-setting eighth promotion.

And, although the goals scored by Luciano Becchio and Paul Green do not mask the fact Leeds had gone seven without a win prior to today, leaving them far from Premier League material, this was as good a start as they and GFH could have wished for.

Equally, a first defeat since their Capital One Cup defeat to Preston on August 28 does not spell disaster for Palace, although Cardiff’s win at Barnsley means top spot is no longer theirs.

Manager Ian Holloway, for whom this was a first loss since his switch from Blackpool, will point to two contentious penalty decisions which went against England winger Wilfried Zaha but, short of Peter Ramage’s late goal, his men were undone by a side reveling in front of playing in front of their new owners.

GFH have promised investment in January but it was one of the players they brought in on loan yesterday, Jerome Thomas, who took the fight to Palace early on, skinning Joel Ward and firing in a cross which nearly led to danger.

Leeds fed off Thomas’ energy and soon Becchio was denied by Julian Speroni in the Palace goal, before the Argentinean stopper, a summer target of Warnock, did brilliantly to get down low and keep out David Norris after a bursting run from the midfielder.

After failing to land Speroni, Warnock tied up a deal for another of his old foot soldiers, Paddy Kenny, and he was then called into action at the other end, getting the slightest touch to an across-goal drive from Zaha, who outmuscled Sam Byram to get a shot in.

He then got to work behind a routine drive from Owen Garvan, before a brilliant double save kept his side level. First he flung himself to his left to palm away Jonathan Parr’s curler, leaving the goal open in the process. He was up quickly, though, shutting down Glenn Murray who looked a safe bet to grab his 16th of the season from six yards.

Zaha was Palace’s most dangerous player - far too strong for opposite number Byram - and the two were involved in a flashpoint on the stroke of half-time, with the former not getting the penalty he courted after appearing to be tripped. Fortunately for him, he received no caution for his subsequent shoving of Norris.

There was no doubt Palace had ended the first half the better but seven minutes into the second half, they were behind, owing largely to Ramage’s failure to clear his lines. After Lee Peltier’s cross was nodded across goal by Paul Green, the experienced defender headed it against his own man, Mile Jedinak, allowing Becchio to pounce from two yards.

Palace’s attempts at a response inevitably went through Zaha who again thought he had claims on a penalty when he and Byram became entangled for a second time, although the best chances fell in Leeds’ favour, with Norris drilling over after a Byram cross fell kindly for him.

A second Leeds goal would arrive, though, with Green’s 75th-minute sweet back-post volley - after Alan Tate’s punt forward fell to him - deflecting beyond Speroni’s reach.

Thinking the game was done, Warnock sent on Ross McCormack for a first home appearance in almost three months following injury, but Leeds were given a reality check with five minutes left when Ramage dived to head in Kagisho Dikgacoi’s cross.

With five minutes of time added Palace had a chance to get a second, but the closest they came was Michael Tonge booting off his own line following a scramble, and Leeds held on.

end

Enter the Cobra

Hmmm, 11 months is a long time not to blog. Hardly an indication that I've been taking this seriously. So now I really am going to try and get it up and running, not that many people will care.

Anyway, here's a piece I wrote this week about Carl Froch ahead of his IBF world title fight with Yusaf Mack. I will try and keep this more up to date with topical stuff, this is just to get things moving again.

Carl Froch is not worried about failing to live up to expectations in Nottingham on Saturday night, believing he has it in his armoury to produce another memorable occasion.

Froch enjoyed arguably the defining night of his career at the Capital FM Arena on May 27, destroying the previously unbeaten Lucian Bute inside five rounds to become the super-middleweight world champion for a third time.

The 35-year-old has gradually become a crowd favourite over the course of his career, and in stopping Bute to claim the IBF title he will defend against Yusaf Mack, he stood firmly in the spotlight.

Mack is not as feared an opponent as Bute was, though, and Froch enters this bout as the overwhelming favourite, with Mack carrying a record of 31-4-2, meaning that another explosive event may not be guaranteed.

'I'll just do what I do,' Froch said. 'The crowd are already turning up, we've got a packed arena and obviously, Lucian Bute is a different opponent. He was an unbeaten fighter and I was the underdog and I shocked the world that night.

'People know what to expect and I'm expecting a fantastic night.'

Froch takes great pride from having won a world title on three different occasions and has a resume that would be the envy of many a champion.

Over the last four years he has taken on a stellar cast of punchers, starting with Jean Pascal, going on to Jermain Taylor, Andre Dirrell, Mikkel Kessler, Arthur Abraham, Glen Johnson, Andre Ward and ending with Bute.

Kessler and Ward were the only ones to better him - the two losses of his 31-fight career - and rematches with the pair, as well as a second shot at Bute, are being eyed up for 2013.

Froch, though, knows none of that can be possible without beating Mack.

'I went through one of the biggest tournaments in the world, the Super Six, where I knew who I was fighting for the next five fights, so you've always got your eye on your next opponent,' he said.

'That said, you can't take someone like Yusaf Mack for granted. I am looking at the future, but that's nothing new for me.

'I was in the amateur game for many years, boxed at the top level and had a massive pedigree. I've been a professional for 10 years and nothing is going to faze me.

'I'm not going to be complacent or lackadaisical, to take my eye off Yusaf Mack. I know I've got a job to do and I know that job could be a difficult one tomorrow night.'

With his penchant for taking on such punishing fights, Froch is surprising many by getting better as he grows older.

Bouts against Kessler, Ward and Bute next year would no doubt be one of his toughest-ever assignments as well, but he is confident he has the body and the game to keep going.

'It's two fights a year, so that's not the end of the world, and I don't take many punches,' he said.

'I live cleanly between fights. It's how you abuse or treat your body between fights that determines your longevity. I'm a clean liver, a consummate professional, I don't eat rubbish food, I don't drink and I don't smoke.

'Physically I was a late developer and I feel like a young 35. I feel in my prime, at my peak and as long as I have the desire to train in the gym, there's no reason why I can't go on until I'm 39, 40 years old. I'm not saying I want to, but physically I think I'm going to be able to.'

For his part, Mack has had little to say this week, having earlier branded Froch as a 'fake Joe Calzaghe'.

The 32-year-old was muted when the two met on Tuesday, saying little more than: 'I am ready to rumble. I've been the underdog all my life. I am ready. I've been training hard. He says he is fit, but I am fitter and stronger.'