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The Secret Diary of Lee Ryder (aged 44 and a half)


Craig
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The secret diary of Lee Ryder aged 44 and a half.

05/02/2015

 

Well diary, let's just say ah'm not breaking the official secrets act when ah tell you ah'm known as the Chronicle Casanova. Christmas do's at the old George are the stuff of Thomson House legend and Ryder always features well up the premier table. But......but......sure ah could tap up a starstruck bit of raggy in City Vaults with promises of meeting North East stars like Denise Welch, Pam Royale and Joe McEldery through my contacts in the Thomson House showbiz section, that would be easy, but.....but.......Ryder can't get a fellow media PR person out of his mind. The Anglo-Italian Fanny Rat, (Me Auntie Joyce married an Eyetie in the seventies) has been hit by cupids arrow and ah'm struggling to think of anyone else at the minute. Ah was coming out of a presser at the cathedral on the hill after arranging an exclusive interview with 'Iron Mike' Williamson which ah knew ma loyal readers would be fucking chomping at the bit to read about, it was to be a five year celebration of the man the Toon Army 'loved more than he could know' as the terrace ditty went, one time at Palace away. Anyways, ah was on me way out when ah bumped into her on the steps outside, near to THAT place where the man who sung 'Head over Heels' once fronted out a meeting with desperate Toon Army soldiers wanting to know why Goal King Cole had been sold to rivals Man Utd. Ah said Hi to Wendy and she replied in a voice that sounded like an Angel, "Hi, Lee! Nice to see you back! Lee Charnley is really happy with your stuff since you got back onside with the club! In fact I heard Peter Beardsley say he hadn't seen the club get such an easy ride from the Chronicle for years and he goes back to the days of whoever Alan Oliver was!" Wow!!! Praise from a Legend and praise from my PR Angel, Wendy! King Kev was brave on these hallowed concrete steps once upon a time and Ryder was about to follow in the Messiah's footsteps. Ah was about to chance me arm again. "Err, thanks Wendy, it's all in a days work, y'knaa. Giving the punters what they want, me and you, we understand that, Wendy. We knaa the dance, like. Ah sometimes think, well, y'knaa, me and you, we share this crazy world where everyone wants to know about Newcastle United. We live it every day, Wendy. Ah think that, well, mebbee, we could, y'knaa, with both being in this mad NUFC world, mebbees we could........." Just then a 4x4 Jeep pulls up and someone shouts out to Wendy that they're going to be late for dinner. It's a blokie! Wendy answers, "Hang on a minute Babe, won't be long." and with that she turns away and climbs into his jeep. Later on in the house ah can't believe how ah feel. Ah feel like ah've took a dig off the biggest radgie ah ever saw at an away game, ah'm winded here, like. with one hand on me whisky bottle ah get up and head for me CD rack. Me old faithful CD rack bought from PineWorld in the MetroCentre in 1994. ah don't even stop to look at what's on the Ryder playlist tonight. There can be only one CD tonight in this mood. There's definitely no jacket required as ah put on me old mate Phil on the CD player.

 

How can I just let you walk away, just let you leave without a trace

When I stand here taking every breath with you, ooh
You're the only one who really knew me at all
How can you just walk away from me,
when all I can do is watch you leave
Cos we've shared the laughter and the pain and even shared the tears
You're the only one who really knew me at all
So take a look at me now, oh there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me,
just the memory of your face
Ooh take a look at me now, well there's just an empty space
And you coming back to me is against all odds and that's what I've got to face
As ah listen to Phill pour his heart out all ah see is Wendy walking away from me and jumping into her Lads Jeep. Ah swallow the last of me Whisky from the bottle and turn the CD off. Ah can't believe how me stomach feels, like it's all twisted in knots. Ah think it's going to be hard sleeping when Wendy's all I can think of. It's eaten me up. Just then something sharp digs into me back. Ah takes a look and it turns out to be a DVD and not only any DVD but 'Budapest Babes auditions, Vol VIII'. Fucking Jackpot! Cockeyed Mala lent iz it a few weeks ago, it was a bit of Frankie Vaughan he bought when he went on that stag do in Prague. It was a thank you prezzie for arranging a drink with Pav ah sorted oot for him and his mates! Ah'd stuffed it doon the settee when me Ma popped round unexpextan, unexpexctant, completely by surprise! Anyways, ah'd been looking all over for it and before you could could say, 'Why's there a white snot on that dirty sock?' ah was cheered up and completely forgetting about Jeeps, PR lasses and Phil Collins iconic hit album. You canni keep a good Journalist down, we're just too resilient, especially us award winning ones. Anyways, later, diary, ah think there's still some lead in the old pencil for scene 4. lolz. Laters.
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http://www.chroniclelive.co.uk/sport/football/football-news/newcastle-improved-alan-pardews-exit-8604291?

 

Jesus Christ on a bicycle, where to start? :lol:

 

Five questions on his mind, not just any questions, 'Burning' ones. And here they are.......

 


1. Have Newcastle improved or declined since Pardew’s exit?

 


2. Is it time to unleash the players that Pardew didn’t see eye to eye with on Wednesday night?

 


3. Should Mehdi Abeid be handed a start in the engine room against Palace or should Carver stick with Anita and Colback?

4. Should John Carver axe Remy Cabella after bottle-gate :lol: :lol: in the dugout?

 


5. Which fans will be loudest at Selhurst Park? :lol: :lol:

 

 

 

(Bit disappointed he never made any suggestions for what songs both sets of fans could be singing).

Edited by Howmanheyman
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The secret diary of Lee Ryder aged 44 and a half.

12/02/2015

 

Dearest Brenda, as I sit here in this Dusseldorf hut I wonder how you are doing back home which I miss very much......Lol, just joking diary, it isn't Neville Hope, it's just your friendly neighbourhood Trinity Mirror group regional sports journalist of year reporter, Lee Ryder checking in forra catch up. Had a bit of a weird couple of days lately with people not paying the respect they should, namely a two bob cook and a Palace dogsbody who tried to shield the abdicated King, one Alan Pardew once of the throne of Barrack Road, from the Knight Ryder. Firsts off, ah got access in the tunnel at Selhurst Park after Carvs lads had fought for a valiantly hard won point at a tough place to go where we won 3-2 and 3-0 in the last two meetings. Ah was waiting for Carvs when ah spotted Pards walking past, being a journalist you learn not to let opportunities like this pass up, the ordinary punter in the street might get starstruck in these situations and stammer or ask for an autograph but Ryder spots the chance to get an exclusive Pards interview for the first time since the King had left the building. Ah was nee messing about with the silver Fox, ah said, "Alan! Alan! Hi mate! Great to see you again! great game tonight, it's me! Lee Ryder! Can ah have a couple of words if you're not too busy, like? The Chronicle's readers would love to hear from you, mate." Pards took one look and said, "Sure, Lee, would Lahve to have a natter, my old san. I tell you what, see that Palace PR geezer over there, tell 'im the King sent you and tell 'im to take you to the Longstand conference room. I'll see you in there in abaht ten minutes." Fucking champion! Pardew not forgetting our special relationship and a fantastic example of keeping good contacts in this crazy business of ours. Anyways, ah'm in this pokey Longstand conference room forra about an hour and a half, fuck me ah thought, is Pards tekking the piss here, like? how long is his fucking post match team talk going to go on for? Here was me waiting on him in this Longstand conference room which was just a glorified boot room where the lazy Palace players had just dumped their boots, bibs and cones, when finally a Palace employee opens the door and is about to turn the light off when ah dives in, "How! What ya deeing, man?! Ah'm waiting for Pards! " The Palace kid said, "I dahn't know who you are, fella, but Mr Pardew left for home 45 minutes ago and you shouldn't really be in here, Geordie." So that was the score, eh? The PR guy was trying to save Pards a Ryder grilling and ushered the ex-King out of the way, very cute ah suppose, credit to the PR kid, protecting his boss. Some you win, some you lose. The next day as ah finished up me match report ah decided to head down to the Thomson house canteen for some scran. Ah notice a new cook in there so ah says to him, "Alreet mate? Ah'll have three sausage, one black pudding, some bacon, give iz the crispy looking ones, some fried bread and beans. Cheers, mate." The cook said back, "Jamie Oliver doesn't get called 'mate' so divvent call me 'mate' ok?" Fuck me! the cheeky bastard! Ah says back, "Ah call Jamie Oliver a soft cockney wanker, do ya want me to call you a 'wanker' instead?" We stare each other out a bit before the Ryder glare gets too much for the kid and he serves up me bait. Fucking hell man, the company have to stop taking on these YTS catering kids, it's not doing the kids any favours thinking they can be lippy to old sweat, ex-terrace, away day Toon Army foot soldiers like yours truly. Anyways, respect, diary. Ryder and out.

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You don't cross the Knight Ryder and get away with it.

 

I noticed that despite the headline he made no reference to any of the youngster's perceived failings.

Edited by ewerk
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