Things to do while searching for a working stream for Arsenal vs. Villarreal

Consider just sitting in front of the telly and watching the Porto-United match. Decide against it on principle — the principle being that RTE are a shower of United-loving pricks and shouldn't be encouraged to PICK A UNITED GAME OVER AN ARSENAL GAME FOR THE BILLION-AND-FIRST TIME.

Refresh liveblogs for both games. Say "Pfft, Ronaldo's goal wasn't that good", even though you haven't seen it.

Eat some leftover Easter chocolates in semi-darkness, not knowing what the centres are. You live on the fuckin' edge, man.

Wonder whether ex-Liverpool defender Steve Harkness ever got called Steve Darkness at school. Bet he did, but probably only at primary school, unless the people he went to secondary school with were a bit thick.

Check reflection in the back of a CD (The Great Eastern by the Delgados) to ensure the unexpectedly chewy toffee hasn't turned your winsomely gap-toothed smile into a vision of true, manky disgust.

Turn on the light, goddammit.

Find a woefully stuttery stream. Get lulled into a vague trance by random words uttered by Alans Parry and Smith.

Cogitate on the possibility of a "vague trance".

See that Arsenal have possession. Watch as the picture freezes for a few seconds, then quickly fast-forwards to a minute later. Notice that the score overlay in top-left of screen now says ASL 1-0 VIL. Woot.

Wonder why they abbreviate Arsenal as ASL, not ARS. You don't think anyone is embarrassed that "Arsenal" begins with the letters A-R-S-E, are they?

Start to feel sorry for this Tommy Smyth chap everyone's been vilifying today, even though the only time you've ever seen him was when the video thing in the sidebar of Soccernet's main page autoplayed and you were somewhat shocked to hear a thick north Louth accent blaring from your laptop speakers. Then have the thought strike you that you've met plenty of people's uncles who are exactly like him and reason that you'd probably want to do harm to him after a few minutes of listening to him as well. Feel a tad more sorry for him as a consequence of this thought.

Sketch out an idea for a screenplay about a man who becomes caught up in a cycle of violence and guilt. Like Neil Warnock. With guilt.

Remember how much you hate Neil Warnock. You hate Neil Warnock.

Actually watch Ronaldo's goal. Wow.

Think to oneself that Grafite's goal of the millennium has already been superseded by Senna, Adebayor, Torres, Keita/Barcelona, Ronaldo and probably approximately two hundred goals worldwide.

Find a Spanish feed with a frozen picture but uninterrupted audio. Notice how the /s/ sound seems to almost disappear much of the time in the middle or at the end of words. Wonder how you might convincingly drop this thought into a future conversation.

Wish you knew more about phonology.


Spend half-time likening your plight to man's helplessness in the face of an uncaring universe. Stare wistfully at a spot on the wall just behind your computer. What is that, pencil? How did that get there?

Check your Analytics account and marvel at the global reach of your media empire. Hello Ipoh, Malaysia!

Long for the Justin.tv chatterers' comforting brand of hideous xenophobia.

Find a stream. Isn't working.

Find another stream. Is working!

Audio provided by Generic English Commentator and Generic Ex-Pro Scottish Co-Commentator. Like watching someone play a mediocre computer game. Have it make you realise how, like, this whole "watching television on a computer" thing, is just, you know, kinda freaky when you think about it, and shit?

GOAL! Adebayor scores. GE-PSC-C says something to the effect that it's the only good thing Ade's done all night. Ponder the benefits of the lack of stress from not having been exposed to Adebayor's apparent earlier mishaps.

Sketch out an idea for a screenplay about a machine that lets you edit out the bad parts of your life and allows you to live in eternal bliss until you die, wait, dying's not good, how are you going to get around that?, you haven't really thought this through, have you?, when...

Stream freezes just after goal, in the midst of Arsenal celebrations, on this picture:


Think it's sweet of your computer to try and provide you with a happy ending like this, but resolve that you must press on with your quest.

Find a new feed, this time from Russia. Feel slightly too proud of yourself that you know what СПОРТ means.

See that, oh, it's 3-0 now.

Keep an eye on Porto-United liveblog. Get the feeling that something might happen yet still refuse to watch it. Hah! Take that, complacent semi-state monolith!

Note how the Russian dudes really don't give a shit. Cheer up, guys! Arsenal are winning!

Games over. Wonder how long it will be before The Man sends a cease-and-desist to the Guardian for their liveblogs.

Start to get over-confident about Arsenal's Champions League chances and wonder whether you should symbolically delete that post you wrote after the Roma tie in which you essentially likened Arsenal's role in this season's Champions League to that of a twig Zeus trampled on as he galloped through a forest to have sex with a mortal.

Imagine that RTE will probably still find a way to deprive you of Arsenal in the semi-finals, even though they're playing United; say, by showing old Live at Three clips accompanied by the Angelus bell whenever Arsenal are in possession. Chuckle bitterly like the wheezy aul' cynic you aspire to be.

Consider writing a profoundly profound situationist analysis of the effect of watching, or attempting to watch, live football on the internet on an already atomised culture.

Consider writing a fake profoundly profound situationist analysis of the effect of watching, or attempting to watch, live football on the internet on an already atomised culture, attaching the name of a moderately well-known academic to it, sending it to a deconstructionist journal and seeing what happens.

Realise that you're rambling now.