Pete Cashmore: From red losers to red winners

I'm not going to talk about football too much because, as a Wolverhampton Wanderers fan, I obviously have no idea what I'm talking about, in much the same way that eating a cold pre-packaged pasta salad purchased from a motorway service station once a week doesn't qualify one to talk about fine Italian cuisine. What I would say is that, if an English football team must lose in a European final, then from a headline writer's point of view I would rather it be Sevilla (pronounced 'Severe') than any other club in the game. Sevilla letdown, Sevilla disappointment, etc.

One thing I noticed during the game (apart from the repeated, unforgiving close-ups on the same weeping Liverpudlian, who I imagine will catch it something awful at work on Friday) was the management on both sides covering their mouths when they talked among themselves. This phenomenon is an interesting adjunct of the ultra-high stakes of the modern game – they're literally covering their mouths so that their tactical discussions can't be lip-read. Or perhaps they're just swearing. Some of the language used by these football types can be a bit on the Sevilla side.

Hmmm. I think I now know why, whenever I present my editor with a print-out of this column, he goes into the deputy editor's office with it and spends the next 15 minutes with his hand over his mouth.

From red losers to red winners. When politicians are described as 'firebrand' it usually just means that they are prone to shouting from time to time. But Dennis Skinner is the real thing, an irascible old school buzzard with precious little respect for the silly niceties of the Commons. The (appropriately) red card he was given for refusing to retract calling the PM 'Dodgy Dave' a few weeks back, was, in isolation, hilarious, but his pretty much annual traditional heckle of the state opening of Parliament has become the stuff of legend. This year's bark was 'Hands off the BBC!' which I believe was a rallying cry against gubernatorial intrusion in the state broadcaster rather than a plea to preserve the editorial purity of Strictly Come Dancing. He'll do well to better his 1988 ribbing of the Black Rod, Admiral Sir Richard Thomas, though – "Ey up! Here comes Puss In Boots!"

Another, lesser known fact about Skinner – when he is not disrupting the pomp and circumstance of state occasions, he spends his spare time visiting care homes in his Bolsover constituency to sing for dementia sufferers, using his, by all accounts, considerable crooning skill to trigger treasured memories in, and bring comfort to, the elderly. The term 'legend' is an over-used one, but not here.

I wonder what the Beast Of Bolsover would make of the news that the ceremonial tossing in the air of mortars upon graduating is being investigated by health and safety types, fearful that a falling hat could cause serious injury. It leads one to wonder which acts of celebration will be nixed next: The tossing of the bouquet at weddings (could have someone's eye out, hay fever risk)? Cake candles (fire hazard)? Stag and hen parties (exclusionary to those identifying as non-binary gender)? Pretty soon we won't be able to do anything except the two things we're best at: complaining about stuff and getting it banned.

I received my first fan email yesterday, for which I'd like to publicly thank Mrs F Jones of Dudley. Understandably, there have been a fair few asking when Mr Rhodes is going to be coming back, which is fair enough. Bit dispiriting to get one of them from your own mother though.