7 March 2006: Sale

It's true, and I can hardly believe it.

The story is this: on the Plymouth Argyle supporter's website (Pasoti), a person going by the name 'Saturday Service' last Monday posted a message stating that Plymouth Argyle were going to buy their ground, Home Park, from Plymouth City Council, who have owned the ground for a hundred-and-some years. The figure was to be in the region of £2.7 million and the details were to be announced towards the end of the week.

The week ended with no announcement, but a growing Pasoti thread that split (as usual) between those who backed the original posters and those who didn't (is it me, or are all internet messageboards exactly the same?). Several people were keen to point out that 'Saturday Service' had only registered for Pasoti some three weeks before and didn't carry the authority of longer term posters such as Mr Newell, Mr Hinches or Mr McRae. However, numerous people backed the story up from varying (always un-nameable) sources, and thus the story carried on a little longer than the normal "Sturrock sacked and about to return to Argyle" or "The real reason Nathan Lowndes left" threads. *cough*.

Then this morning, this happened. And the chairman said this.

If you can't get to those links (not sure how the login system works on the official Argyle site, and it's not been reported anywhere else as I write this), the gist of the story is this: Plymouth City Council have agreed to sell the freehold of Home Park to Plymouth Argyle for a figure of £2.7 million. This not only frees up the club from its rent obligation to the council (not that they paid a lot of rent), but more importantly gives the club an asset against which to borrow money to fund the completion of the 'New Stadium' - phase two of New Home Park, which involves demolishing the Mayflower and Grandstand blocks, and replacing them with brand new two-tier stands, making Home Park all-seater and finally completing the project begun some five years ago. Final deal is still to go through (surely it couldn't fall through now...) but it all looks hopeful.

Of course, the big question on Pasoti this morning is not when this will happen, or whether the deal includes the car parks and surrounding grounds, or even if the only reason the council sold the ground was because they need £2.7 million to keep council tax down (the City Council also today released news of a 5% rise in council tax for the coming year). The question is: who is 'Saturday Service'? He/she hasn't posted since Tuesday (after being roundly roasted by the usual cynics) so the question is, as Frank so eloquently asked this morning, "how did you guys know?"

5 March 2006: Shorts

Wore the crazy flower shorts to church this morning. Gloria once said she doubted I'd ever wear them, so I wore them to the Sunday morning service just to prove I'm not ashamed. In case you're unfamiliar with them, they look like this:

The purpose of this flowery exercise was to raise a little awareness for the fact I'm running the London Marathon this year (in case you hadn't realised it yet) and I was up at the front asking people to sponsor me and support the Oasis Trust's 'Children @ Risk' campaign.

The ridicule was kept to a minimum, which was good, and I got a good number of people to sign up on the sponsorship sheet and a good few more taking my paper flier and saying they'd be keen to sponsor online. Several asked me if I'd be wearing these shorts for the actual marathon itself: the answer is "quite possibly". With cycling shorts underneath to prevent being rubbed up the wrong way, these (nominally 'swimming') shorts are actually very comfortable to run in. Not to mention standing out a little in the crowd.

So we'll see how things work out at the Hastings half-marathon next week. Meantime, if you'd like to sponsor me, check out my online sponsorship page at www.justgiving.com/duncmcrae. And if you'd like to see more photos of the shorts, let me know and I'll see if I can put a gallery together on something like www. DuncanLooksLikeAFruit.com.

Happy running.

1 March 2006: Confidential

Next, intimate tales of Southampton Football Club's first 'underground' Chairman. The action-packed diary of a man who's just a klingon away... from history!

Rupert Lowe - Confidential!

One of the hardest things to do from the secure, undisclosed location is to be able to communicate my needs and agendas to the public. Wooders and George do their best, better than Harry ever did, but sometimes it doesn’t seem like enough. Life is hard, twenty-four seven in the bunker, and my one goal – the defending and promoting of the business – never seems to be appreciated by anyone. The situation was exacerbated last week when Kim Wilde decided to put a non-specific cat among my well-fed pigeons, ducks and grouse. Cowie was the one who provided the first alert, a text message from his business meeting in Crawley.

“OMG R, Tommy’s dad’s shares sold 2 sum1 2.5mill wtf now, wz it u? lol”

Hard to disagree with Cowie’s hard-nosed business-oriented analysis. But no, it wasn’t me. I called Wooders down for an emergency audience.

SCW: What’s happening? What’s the emergency?
RL: Someone’s buying our shares. Two point five million of them. Nine per cent.
SCW: It wasn’t me! Honestly!
RL: I never said it was.
SCW: Then please stop pointing that shotgun at me.
RL: OK, but it goes no further than these four walls. They’re listening, you know.
SCW: *pause* The walls?
RL: The walls, the floor, the Echo, everyone. They’re everywhere. Listening for signs of weakness. Maybe they even bought the shares just to see how we’d react.
SCW: I’ve got to work on Marian’s groin strain. Is there anything you want me to do?
RL: I want your advice. I know I rarely ask for it, but these are exceptional circumstances. I need you to advise me to make a public statement about that Strode-Gibbons man.
SCW: What do you think I should advise you to say?
RL: Something denying we’ve had any contact with him. Something saying we’ll resist his takeover deals. Something showing strength and winningability in the face of the unknown.
SCW: You think it’s him? Strode-Gibbons is really trying to take the club?
RL: Him or one of his men. There are many of them. And more are joining all the time. It is like the growth of the Empire. And Darth Vader is starting to make his presence known. We must send in Luke Skywalker to destroy the Death Star before it is too late. And you are the key to this, Han. Wooders.
SCW: Is any of this in my job description?
RL: You knew the mission when you took on the role. Director of Football means so much more than directing the football. You are to advise me to deny Vader the chance to extend his empire. If indeed you haven’t already turned.
SCW: Actually, Vader wasn’t the Emperor. The Emperor was.
RL: Don’t take that tone of voice with me!
SCW: OK, OK, please put the gun down. I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. What exactly do you want?
RL: For the moment, nothing public. I’ll issue the statements required by the Stock Exchange and remind everyone that such large transaction must be accompanied by certain information disclosure. I need you to advise me and back me up when it all goes wrong. Publicly.
SCW: Would this make me some kind of fall-guy?
RL: We’ll have to see who the buyer is first. And if it’s anything to do with you…
SCW: Gun down, sir. Down.

Friday, nine-fifteen AM. Wooders was lucky to escape the fire. It turned out he was nothing to do with it after all. Kim Wilde, who kept calling himself Michael to hide his previous fame and career, bought the shares. I’d met him a few months ago at a public function where he tried to get me to buy his houses. He was from Liverpool. Didn’t like the Rooney chant. Maybe that was when he began planning his revenge.

Saturday, five-twenty PM. Called Wilde to the secure, undisclosed location for an audience after the footer game.

RL: Welcome, Kim, welcome.
MW: Good game today, eh? Best for a couple of years, eh? Who’d have thought Higgy would ever get a goal in the right net for a change, eh?
RL: Your jedi mind-tricks will not work on me. Now, I hear you have been buying shares.
MW: Yeah, Thompson said he was happy to sell all the shares that weren’t his so he can stay on the board. I thought, well, nice day, sun’s come out for a change, I could always do with a few shares in the club. Give me something to look at in the executive box when the game is slow, eh?
RL: We need the answer to one question, Kim. *pause* Why? Why would you choose to buy all those shares? Why now? What is your agenda?
MW: I already told Keith all this already. Don’t you read SaintsForever?
RL: As you are new here, I will overlook your use of the blasphemous phrase. There are people in that place who do not approve of my direction of this company. They consider the sports side of the business more important than the financial aspects. Fortunately the appointment of George has thrown them a bone to keep them quiet for a while.
MW: So what d’ya wanna talk about then, eh?
RL: You must understand, this business is a large-scale long-term investment scoping a variety of interests. I need to know whose side you are on. There is a war coming. I take it you know there is a war coming.
MW: You’re talking about Andrew Strode-Gibbons?
RL: Yes. And the darker forces of The Seven who ride like Nazgul through the night, barely visible, scouring the stock exchange for the lost shares of legend.
MW: Well, I don’t know about that. Andrew bought me lunch a few weeks ago but he had me pay for it, said his money was tied up in some bank transfer for a few days but he’d pay me back. Never has, ya know. Funny little man, eh?
RL: So you’re not in league with his dark forces?
MW: Look Rupert –
RL: Here you call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Mister Chairman’. There will be no exceptions.
MW: OK, Mister Chairman, OK, please put the gun down.
RL: This is where indiscipline starts. Indiscipline leads to fear, fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. Judge me by my size, do you?
MW: No, no, just please put the gun down.
RL: So you claim you are an independent, not involved with the battle.
MW: No, yeah, that's right, I’m just a bright sunny scouser with some money and I thought it might be nice for a fan to own a few shares. That’s great, innit?
RL: The war is coming. You will have to choose a side. There will be none who are not aligned. If you are not for us, then you are for them. I need to know who you will side with, Kim.
MW: I’m just a happy –
RL: *click* I need to know.
MW: *pause* I’m with you.

The hardest thing is getting across to the public how much I love this business. I make wise investments and deeply-considered trades, appoint those who I know can do well for the company. Getting Kim on my side was only another small step in that process. It’s one battle to take ground, another to keep it. Wooders and Kim are on my side. But for how long? The war is coming, and all will be involved.

End of partial diary, late February 2006.

Sincerely yours,
Rupert Lowe… confidential!

Note: thanks to McDougal for the unintended prompting to put such a thing together. The real deal can be found at HarryShearer.com, for example here and here.

24 February 2006: Wilde

The buyer is one Michael Wilde. A rich gentleman originally from Merseyside but who these days owns Merlion and Infinity Homes down here in the south, he has sponsored Saints in various capacities in recent years (shirt sponsorships, corporate box) and, according to phone calls he's had with Keith from SaintsForever, he's nothing to do with any consortium at all: he just fancied buying 9% of the club's shares yesterday at 6p over the odds.

Andrew Strode-Gibbons, leader of the more publicly-visible but (seemingly) much smaller consortium (the 'Magnificent Seven' are larger, more mysterious and rumoured by many not to even exist), contacted BBC Solent and said it was all linked in with his consortium, and the BBC duly reported this through the day, much to Keith's seeming annoyance as he had a denial right from the horse's mouth. The BBC later withdrew that link and the story now seems fairly set in place. Not ASG, not Mag 7, not any consortium. He just thinks the fans should have more ownership of the club. And he just happens to have bought a huge stake in the club at an 11% price premium right when there's a whole load of takeover speculation. And there's nothing more to it than that.

We'll see, won't we...

23 February 2006: Broker

At 10.52 this morning, about an hour ago, a broker-to-broker deal on the London Stock exchange saw the transfer of just over 2.54 million shares in Southampton Leisure Holdings plc (parent company of Southampton Football Club) at a price of 50p per share. That's a little over 9% of the total number of shares on the club. Other trades (a few hundred here and there) were at 44p or so per share, so this price is substantially over-the-odds.

While broker-to-broker doesn't mean a sell as such, it means something is definitely afoot because (so say the knowledgeable people on SaintsForever) brokers don't do deals like this because they're bored.

Are the 'Magnificent Seven' about to ride into town? Will Rupert really be swung from the Itchen Bridge? One thing remains true: there is never a dull moment with Southampton FC.

18 February 2006: Battle

Donald Rumsfeld is worried about the effective use of the media by Islamic organisations (not necessarily Al-Qaeda, just "our enemies") and so he says the following:

"The US must fight back by operating a more effective, 24-hour propaganda machine."

Such a statement ten years ago would have been unthinkable. You become that which you fight against, Donald.

And anyway, Fox News already exists.

13 February 2006: Shoes

We held our breath and went to Pompey last Friday.

Marathon training is at times hard, at times fun, at times boring (well, the only training you can do is running and that can get old quite quickly) but the last few times it's been painful - pins-and-needles in my feet followed by mild numbness? Not a good sign. So at McDougal's recommendation, Kev and myself hopped in the car and headed off to Alexandra Sports down in Portsmouth.

It's an interesting shop. The first thing you think is that you've taken a wrong turning because to get there you have to drive up through a one-way system in a residential area. And then turn right, there it is: an expensive-looking running shop right in the middle of a bunch of terraced housing. Well, ok, at the end of the street, but still it looks quite out of place. Although then you look across to the road to the park and think "ok, maybe they get some business from joggers". So why did we Southamptonites decide to trek through Pompey housing estates to get to an obscure running shop?

Because they're good, that's why. Doug and a number of other folks declare them to be the best in southern England. And walking into the shop, we began to understand why. Racks of running shirts, shorts, bottoms, sports drinks, timing devices, you name it. And shoes, lots of shoes. We took our numbers and waited for our experts to be summoned from upstairs. Young guy who clearly knew a lot about feet came down and started prodding and poking at my toes and ankles. He then had me walk barefoot around the shop while he watched. Next, up on to the treadmill where I had to walk, then jog, then run, all barefoot. He videod this and not only played it back to me on the computer, but had the computer analyse my walk, jog and run and determined that I landed too much on the outside of my foot when I ran, which would need to be compensated for with my shoe choice. (Which explained, among other things, why my feet had been going numb - thudding the sides of my feet into the ground via a pair of trainers that cost a fiver from the gloriously-named 'PriceLess Shoes' in town was never going to be a good idea.)

So he went away and got three pairs of running shoes that would, in his opinion, be most suitable for me. I tried them - one pair felt a little tight, one pair felt a little wobbly at the back and the third felt like second, only slightly heavier. Ascertaining that even though I'm a size nine foot, I should actually run in size ten given the thickness of my running socks (that actually hadn't occurred to me at any point in my training), I tried a size ten of the first one, and that was that. Snugly fitting, compensating for my foot-rolling style of running and a bargain at seventy-five pounds.

Seventy-five pounds?? How many curries is that?

I asked the prices of the other two pairs. Both over ninety. I'd got the bargain.

So Saturday was the first day running in them. Keep it short, the guy had said, otherwise you'll get blisters - you have to break the shoes in gently. So four-and-a-half miles later on the treadmill, I am pleased to report no discomfort, no pins-and-needles, no hint of anything dodgy going on at all. The PriceLess trainers have run their last training run. From now on I'm a Brooks boy.

So the next question: what to wear for the run itself? I hear there are cheap shirts available...