.....AND NOW FOR SOME COMIC RELIEF.

Big-time national politics is all about its Weirdness Quotient. High-level political races should be between identical slim men and women in identical slim suits and saris. Rational, cool men and women, who know the voting market, who never say the wrong thing, who look good on TV…and above all are incorruptible. Candidates who don't fit this mould -- the blatant hacks, the geeks, the loons, the scamsters, the criminals, the people with bad teeth – should be filtered out at the Panchayat level.

The whole point of Indian politicians speaking is watching them makes asses of themselves. They are all weird. Just like the ones who, on the national level, have picked up the torch dropped, with a typical clumsiness, by Morarji Desai and V.P.(weepy) Singh? The fat candidates. The ugly candidates.The stupid candidates.The candidates who go to formal dinners and pass out in the Mutton Vindaloo. Who set fire to themselves with beedis. The candidates, who, the only time they speak the truth is when they call another politician a liar.

If we are to keep the tradition of participatory democracy going in this country, if we are to revive voter interest, we need less of these weird people running for high office, and more of the rational variety and we need them right now.

And so I say: Heaven help Goa, whose very license plates should read, "GOA: WAKA WAKA LOCA." Because in a state like this, a state whose naturally humid climate has permitted a tremendous diversity of human and canine life to flourish and mutate, we should not be surprised to find that this year, we are being treated to an electoral race between politicians who are clearly not Standard Issue. I've spent some time watching all of them, and I can honestly state that regardless of which one is elected, we will all, as voters, have reason to be vastly amused. For example : Here's a full report on the Panaji CCP elections.

***

We are in Manu.P’s rental campaign SUV, which is stout and bouncy, not unlike Manu himself, and we are going to someplace called "Taleigao." Rumor has it that there is agriculture in Taleigao. Manu is going there to show his concern for it.

In the SUV with Manu P. is the press, including a couple of political reporters from Big Bazaar; out-of- state newspapers that are very interested in this race because

(a) it is considered crucial to the opposition’s hopes of coming to power at the centre and

(b) it is nice and warm in Goa.

The press is not crazy about landing in Taleigao. The press frankly does not care about agriculture except insofar as it is a constituent of feni and results in lunch. The press would rather hear Manu P. talk about his opponent, incumbent Anas M.,( no, the part of the anatomy you refer to is spelt with an “u”, although you might not be too far wrong in your presumptions) and his hot new campaign issue,i.e. BLOCKING ALL THE WATER THAT "FLEW" UNDER THE MANDOVI BRIDGES.

This is an issue that materialized out of the air, literally, in the form of an electoral advertisement suggesting that Manu P. is willing to let the waters overrun and drown Panaji and the state. Manu P. who has long portrayed himself as a friend of nature, the Bondla Reserve, bunny rabbits,Tito’s etc., fought back with a counter-advertisement -- featuring a photograph of Anas M. that makes him look like he lost the Room Freshener Pageant because the police thought he was too vacuous -- in which prominent doctors and ecology nuts say that they favor the drowning and they like Manu P. and think Anas’ ad is basically doggy doo.

But in a way, Manu P. has lost the round, because he had to spend money to make additional ads responding to an issue Anas M. raised in HIS advertisement.

The whole thing sort of reminds you of Coke vs. Pepsi, only with less substance.

Carnival Catastrophies and Other Venalities

Tuesday Night’s Red and Black hobgoblins from the Clube Nacional Revelry are doing the devil’s dance inside my head……my eyes blur open, my tongue is stuck to the carpet, and I can’t feel my toes. Oh! Ok those aren’t my toes! God is punishing me for having fun.

Since the dawn of Som Ras , first the Gods and then man has been plagued by hangovers. Having pondered the problem of my alcoholic stupor for the last four hours I have finally discovered the solution.

The best and most obvious way to avoid a hangover is not to drink at all, but I think we can all agree that that is not an option so let’s move on.

It’s Ash Wednesday and the Lenten Season is upon us and in order to cure your hangover and repent you must therefore attend church services as quickly as possible. So tear your tongue off the floor, and weave your way to your pew. During the service, pray for hydration. When the collection plate is passed, remove ten rupees and use it to buy aspirin.

On the way stop at a vegetable vendor and buy a bunch of lettuce leaves. Do not eat the lettuce, as they contain dangerous quantities of butt-blasting fibre. Instead arrange the leaves on your head. Laughter, they say, is the best medicine. Try to laugh at yourself. Look at you in your salad hat in the mirror. You look hilarious.

Now make yourself a cocktail. Contrary to popular belief drinking alcohol is not counter productive. That’s why you’re there nursing a headache while I sit poised on the brink of discovering the great hangover cure. A Feni Colada is your best option, as cashew nuts contain healing fats and high levels of salts that will replenish your electrolytes. Electrolytes are essential for good health and are not unlike clean underwear in that you can never have too many.

Time now to exercise. Exercise, particularly jogging, generates powerful endorphins, diminishes nausea and weakness and replaces them with higher-qualities of weakness and nausea. While you are jogging think about all the reasons you got so tanked last night. Your life’s pretty sad, isn’t it? Yes. Run faster now.

Now that you’ve worked out you will have developed the emotional clarity to quit your job, divorce your spouse, adopt a pet python and have meaningless sex with a midget. This set of tasks sounds daunting, but keep in mind that it’s difficult to stay hungover when you’re busy applying for a job as a janitor and training a python to uncoil from around your windpipe.

Finally, it’s time for another drink. This should relieve you of your hangover forever, and leave you with a calming sense of dipsomania and melancholia. If you wake up in the morning with another hangover, don’t sweat it. I’ve discovered a cure and will be happy to reveal it to you in due course. Until then take two aspirin you bought with the money you stole from church, and call your physician in the morning. Cheers.

Meanderings

I feel like writing something. I'm not sure what yet. I assumed that as soon as I began to type, it would come to me, but it hasn't yet and now I am just browsing through facebook and stalling for time.

While I am waiting for my mind to catch up with my fingers, I'll tell you about the difference between roads in Mumbai and Goa.

The roads in Mumbai are much the same as most others in the Metros. Especially in the city. Curbs. Asphalt.Polluted.Noisy.Traffic signals with wall-to wall beggars, hawkers or hijras. Sometimes a random street that is poured concrete or one that is all paving blocks. Pedestrian sidewalks where pet animals have left their steaming piles in the early morning smog. Most ordinary.

The special roads in Mumbai are the ones that lead out of town. The ones that lead back into Goa. They are both fun to speed on and oh! the drive.......

In the winter you roll your windows down. If you have one; you can pop the sun roof. If you are Rahul Gandhi, you take the top off your Gypsy.If you are Salman Khan you take off your shirt and flex your man-boobs. And if you are Jaideep Deoshtale you ride your motorcycle.

Take the NH4 to Pune, turn onto Nipani, Amboli and then take a road with a tilted road sign or no road sign at all. It will more than likely immediately start to go up or go down. There is likely to be a field and then a thick wooded area. Watch for the arrows that tell you to prepare for a turn. Most of them are bent in half.

The smell of foliage permeates the car. You cannot help but stick your arm out the window and hold the door with the flat of your palm. The ones with no regrets stand up through the sun roof and make like Leo and Kate in that “Titanic” scene.


Passing Amboli at sunset-if you time it just right, you'll pass a field full of fireflies as they begin to flicker. When your car drops down into where the road goes down into a small valley, you can feel the temperature drop. And the cold is chased away as the road climbs back up again where the heat of the road fights off the chill.

Once you pass Sawantwadi, there is curve after curve that will take you on to bridges that they say can only take one car at a time. Sometimes the signs that tell you to slow down are mere suggestions. Other times those sign have been run over by people who don't take suggestions well. Just be careful. Of course, there is nothing like the feeling of making it though a curve that you thought for a split second you weren't.

When you see another car, honk – it’s considered good manners.

You've probably had your music system on. Turn it off. Take in the sound of the wind. Of the trees passing you by as you pass by them. The hills and twists are short lived as you can't drive too far without bumping back into the NH17 and thence to Goa.

Go ahead and take a lap through Mapusa. And another through the billboard fields of Guirim. Drive past where The Royal Circus tents were pitched during Christmas and New Year. Loop back around and head out to Porvorim and O’Coqueiro –the restaurant where the infamous Charles Sobhraj sat; and once sitting was nabbed. And then cut right onto CHOGM road and drive past Nelsons’ Picnic Restaurant and down into Green Valley and finally home.

Summer is almost here and the Cashew trees are flowering, and those pesky crows up high in their nest are crapping all over the gate.

Aah! Peaceful night, broken only by the chorus of stray dogs yapping and howling at the moon… a Goan Nocturnal Rhapsody.

Sugar Runs My Life

It’s the beginning of a new decade. With all the festivals and weddings that cropped up since I last posted here I have lost count of how many times I've lost the battle with sugar.It's too humiliating.

Poor poor widdle Kenny, he’s having a rough time walking the hills and dales of Porvorim without falling down and shredding his face on the shards of Ice Cream and Chocolate, not to mention wedding cake (the downfall of millions of bachelors worldwide). Sugar is not tobacco, weed, booze, drugs, women, etc. etc. It's me against sweets. What a complete sucker I am.

As you may have gathered, I'm a bit nauseated at my own inability to just do what's healthy for my body. But no! It's tiatr. Save me! I'm on the edge of a cliff, about to jump to my hyperglycaemic death into Creamy Chocolate Fondue Falls.Temptation! The Devil's own work! Argh!
One of my most asinine sugar-high low points of the past few weeks: Death by Chocolate. Me and DC. Never heard of it? It's next to the Fruit Salad on the menu at Dandey’s Grill. Made of chocolate, cream, honey and chocolate flakes, blended together to make this smooth, creamy, sinister, decadent, spreadable, spoonable best treat in the universe. I had two servings. A serving has about 8 teaspoons. I ate each serving in 60 seconds flat. I ordered another. I ate half of it. I saw the error of my ways in the disgusted looks of the others at the table. I knew I couldn't just abandon the other half-portion to the wastebasket or the trash bin outside because I would toss my pride to the monsoon winds and crawl in like a bandicoot and get it out and start up again. So I had it packed and took it home and stored it in the fridge only to slink back at 3 in the morning and lick the bowl clean. What I should have done was poured some hot chilli sauce over it like I had to slay it. Like it was one of those alien snake-creatures; you cut one head off and it just grows another.

There are people in the world with serious problems. My sister-in-laws mother died 2 weeks ago and she asked for a prayer to be said for her at church. A childhood friend has been declared terminal with cancer and one does not know what to say when going to visit. A tourist from Bhopal was beaten up by locals at Baga when he tried to do the usual. yes you guessed it ....molest a Russian woman.Yeah. Imagine that.

So there is no reason at all to whine and whimper and freak out over the fact that I need to stop eating sugary, poison, things that are going to make me sick. And there is no reason to make a big deal of it. Right?

But here's the thing. Take my comforting little habit away from me and there's nothing left between me and, well…. me. If I can't flip my jaw open like a corrupt CWG officials’ wallet and ram a half kilo of sweet stuff down my anxious throat, I will end up in a straitjacket so I have to keep on doing what I’m doing, live the decadent life I’m living, and just deal with it. By the way, if I get any more clichéd in the next 30 seconds, please, someone push the big eject button that will jettison me into the Milky Way. Oh man!. Milky Way !

OK, forget that. I'll sum it up. Ready?

I'm tired of struggling. Fighting the same boring, frustrating, mind numbingly repetitive repetitive repetitive sugar battle, all the time. Give me something new and interesting to fight. Not life-threatening. But maybe a fear of face-booking. Or an obsession with biting my cuticles. Or make me long to trek to the Himalayas in only my underwear.

Give me something. But first let me taste that chocolate strawberry croissant next to the lemon-meringue pie.

Up The Commonwealth !

Delhi — In ancient times, a Westerner had to journey for months, even years, to reach India. Today, thanks to modern air travel, it takes much longer.

Talk about getting a visitors visa ! And after you fly all the way across the Atlantic I estimate that the plane you are on will fly in circles over Delhi airspace about 3 days before you actually land, since the airfield will first need to be cleared of construction debris, dengue carrying mosquitoes, and the rain-ravaged potholes filled.

But after you have showered, you will be excited to be here for these historic Commonwealth Games, the first ever hosted by this proud and ancient culture, which has given the world so many important inventions, including hockey, algebra, the zero, kabbadi, paan stains, delhi belly, the Taj Mahal, call centres, Mayavati, Bollywood and Deepak Chopra.

But despite its colourful historic past, India is not a bazaar: It is a modern economic superpower that replicates every product ever manufactured in China including pirated DVD’s. India is the world's second most populous nation, with a population of more than 1.2 billion, making it home to one out of every four people on earth. Think about what that means. It means that if you belong to a family of four, one of you lives here. (To find out if it's you, check your ration card.)

The Commonwealth Games are a HUGE deal, be it only for the Indian politician, bureaucrats and A.R.Rehman (motto:Waving My Oscar in Their Faces). There’s corruption money to be milked from every aspect of it, whether it's for buying a 4000 rupee roll of toilet paper, hiring a treadmill for 9.75 lakhs for 45 days instead of buying one from Harrods in London for 7 lakhs (VAT included) or composing a lame theme song (Yaaro India Bula Liya) for 5 crores .

Everywhere you look in this swarming capital city of Delhi, you see vague shapes in the distance that might be large impressive Games structures if you could actually get a good look at them, which you can't because the air is thick with toxic dust particles the size of satiated dog’s ticks. The Delhi government has been trying to reduce air pollution by keeping stray cattle off the roads - thereby threatening the world's strategic supply of “asli ghee” - and ordering Delhi residents to cease swarming during the Games. But dirt and grime are still a big issue, as evidenced by the controversial decision by the Games Committee to allow vuvuzelas into all games venues to drown out complaints.

Nevertheless, there will be no problems whatsoever during these Games, which will without question be the greatest Games ever held. Why do I say this? I say it because Indian government authorities are closely monitoring journalists and controlling our use of the Internet and Blackberries. They can cause trouble for anyone who writes something they don't like, or mention a topic they want to avoid, such as......

ERROR ERROR ERROR THIS WEB PAGE IS NOT AVAILABLE IF YOU CONTINUE ON THIS SUBJECT YOU MAY DAMAGE YOUR COMPUTER ERROR ERROR ERROR

So the Indian government is a little scary. There are police and plainclothes detectives dressed as beggars stationed roughly every 3 metres throughout Delhi; I'm pretty sure you will find one in your hotel closet.

On the other hand, the regular Delhiite is a wonderful host, unfailingly friendly and helpful. You will need a lot of help though, since most people here speak Hindustani, which is basically a giant secret code that sounds like Hindi designed to prevent non-delhiites from having any idea what the hell is going on. For example, that snack you have just bought from the roadside “dhaba”; do you really know what it is?? Because the only words on the label that you recognize are “International” and "Made in India." I suspect that Indian authorities are watching you on a hidden camera and going, "He's eating it! Ha ha! Tomorrow we will give him battery acid to drink."

Likewise, when you get into a taxi and show the driver a slip of paper helpfully written in Hindi by a hotel employee. You think this writing says, "Please take me to the Red Fort." But it could just as easily say, "I wish to pet a King Cobra."

Fortunately your hotel has English-language TV. Check out the public-service commercial on television that ends with this appeal: "Please, use only Musli Power Xtra, You get more than you can imagine, Official Health Licensee of Commonwealth Games." I pass this along in case you were considering getting lucky.

Your hotel will have Western-style loos. This is a luxury in India, which, while it was busy inventing algebra, defining the Kama Sutra in stone, etc., apparently did not have time to get around to plumbing. You have to carry your own toilet paper, because many public loos here don't have it. Ideally, you would also carry your own toilet, because many loos don't really have that, either. What they have is basically a miniature bathtub in the floor. If I say anything more on this subject I will be spoiling your experience of discovery. A word of wisdom though….do not lean against compound walls or corners of buildings and alleyways.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Overall the Delhiites have done an amazing job of preparing for the Commonwealth Games, and they've gone out of their way to make their visitors feel welcome. I’m sure you will look forward to attending the Games, and even more to getting to know this fascinating country. So run along now and take a taxi to go see the Red Fort. Or, pet a King Cobra. Whatever that piece of paper says.

An I Day Celebration

A few years ago, we had an old-fashioned Independence Day Picnic? At least I think it was Independence Day since that seems to be the only day in the year when everyone was home.

Food poisoning was one of our concerns. After a few hours in the sun, ordinary potato salad can develop bacteria the size of squirrels. But we did not let the threat of agonizingly painful death prevent us from celebrating the birth of our nation, just as Indians have been doing ever since that historic first August 15th when our Founding Fathers – Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Swami Vivekananda, Kishore Kumar, Mohd. Rafi and Mowgli – learned to spell “Satyagraha”

Step one in planning the picnic was to decide on a menu. Sanjay Kapoor of Khana Khazana had loads of innovative suggestions for unique, imaginative and tasty monsoon meals. So we ignored him. ``If Sanjeev Kapoor comes anywhere near our picnic, he's risking a tandoor seekh to his jabulanis'' was our patriotic motto.

Since we were having a traditional Independence Day picnic, that meant a menu of kababs charred into clumps of carbon, and tandoori chicken so undercooked that when people tried to eat them, they jumped off the plate and ran around the lawn like squirrels.

Bunty was in charge of the cooking, because only Bunty, being a software engineer of the masculine gender, had the ``expertise'' to operate a piece of technology as complex as a tandoori grill.

Remember to be truly traditional, the grill should be constructed of the following materials:

-- 5 percent ``rust-resistant'' steel rods;

-- 50 percent rusted oil drum;

-- 30 percent hardened black grill grunge from food cooked as far back as 1947 (the grunge should never be scraped off, because it is what is actually holding the grill together);

-- 15 percent spiders and lizards living in the grill from when you last used it.

All tandoors use charcoal as fuel, Bunty always starts lighting the fire early (no later than August 1) because charcoal, in accordance with safety regulations, is a mineral that does not burn. The lizards get a huge kick out of watching Bunty attempt to ignite it; the spiders emit hearty laughs and slap themselves on all eight knees. This is why many cooks prefer the modern gas grill, which ignites at the press of a button and burns with a steady, even flame until you put food on it, at which time it runs out of gas.

While Bunty mouthed traditional bad words in chaste Punjabi to the grill, Pinky organized the kids for a fun activity: making old-fashioned boondi ladoos by hand, the way our Dadaji’s generation did.

She used a hand-operated boondi maker, which you can pick up at any store. All you do is put in the ingredients, and start squeezing! It makes no difference what specific ingredients you put in, because -- I speak from bitter experience here -- no matter how long you squeeze them, they will drip through the holes in the bottom and never, ever turn into boondis.

Ladoo makers laugh at the very concept. ``Boondi is not formed by squeezing,'' they point out. ``Boondi is formed by buying from the mitthai shop.'' Our grandparents' generation wasted millions of man-hours trying to produce boondi by hand; this is what caused the Sepoy Mutiny.

When the kids got tired of trying to make boondi ladoos (in approximately 2 minutes), it became time to play some traditional Independence Day games.

One of the most popular was the ``three-legged race.'' All you need is pieces of rope, which you can obtain from the hardware store. Or you can get designer cords from Fabindia boutique. We called the kids outside, had them line up in pairs on the lawn and tied the left ankle of one to the right ankle of another; then shouted ``GO!'' and watched the hilarious antics begin as, one by one, the kids snuck back indoors and resumed trying to locate pornography on the Internet.

Come nightfall, though, everybody was be drawn to the sound of loud, traditional Independence Day music being played on the television with reruns of the movies Lagaan and Mother India.

Then Bunty and his friends, after consuming a number of traditionally fermented beverages, gave up on conventional charcoal-lighting products and escalated to petrol and plastic explosive.

As a spectacular pyrotechnic show lit up the night sky, one began to truly appreciate the patriotic meaning of the words to Saare Jahaan Se Achha, written by Cosmonaut Rakesh Sharma to commemorate the fledgling nation's first tandoori platter:

Saare Jahan Se Achcha;

Yeh Tandoori Murgh Hamaara;

This year we went out for Chinese food.

GOAL Goa !

Party on! ..... A Win-Win situation everytime

I will now attempt, using my extensive vocabulary and professional writing skills, to describe what football was like in the land of Feni:

Talk about a party. I've watched the IPL cricket, the Olympics, and the Pink Chaddi Campaign. Compared to the World Cup, these events in Goa were equivalent to a meeting of the Society for the Prohibition of Feni.

The World Cup caused entire villages to go insane. They also serenaded crowds on the roads with World-Cup-themed songs, including one, called Waka Waka Kaka, declaring that referee Stephane Lannoy was ... OK, I can't tell you this is because of censorship rules, but it was nasty.

And that was support for just one country. There were supporters for the 31 other teams, and their fans were just as enthusiastic, by which I mean crazy. For a month they watched matches being held all over South Africa, and every match ended in a huge party regardless of who won.

Huge television screens projected these matches practically all over Goa, except in the Secretariat where members were busy looking for a replacement Tourism Minister.

We watched the final on the beach in Morjim, where giant TV screens had been set up courtesy of the foreign drug -dealers. There were scores of screaming, singing, dancing face-painted football fans, and I can honestly say it was one of the most exciting sporting events I have ever seen, because some of those drug-dealers girlfriends were topless. You'd go to the bar counter, and you'd turn around, and YOWZA there would be a drug-dealer girlfriend standing right behind you, acting as though she was not basically naked, which she was. I recall going to the bar counter numerous times.

I spent that night on the Morjim beach, swept along by a boisterous river of several million wild happily stoned football fans.

Question: How happy were they?Answer: They were so happy, foreigners were actually hugging Indians.

"Enjoy this!" I shouted to my friend, as we were being hugged. "Tomorrow they'll despise us again!"

My point is that for excitement and atmosphere and a general United Nations of craziness, there is no sporting event that approaches the World Cup

Scoring a goal in football is not as easy as say, hitting a sixer in cricket. It's really very very difficult, one might say almost impossible since everything favours the defence. So the offensive players usually have to do something magical just to get off a half-decent kick. That is why, when a goal is scored, they tend to be brilliant. Especially World Cup goals are so priceless, the tension preceding them is often nail-biting and adrenalin-pumpingly unbearable, leading to a cataclysmic moment — GOOOOOOALLL!!!!

The final this year was between the Netherlands and Paul the Octopus— much to the surprise of the Mimi the parrot. The Netherlands was heavily favored, but Paul won, and the whole of Spain went berserk.

And no one seemed interested in the Santosh Trophy... I wonder why ?

India can win a World Cup? and Octopuses can fly !!!!

The World Cup tournament was due to start, and all over India sports fans were asking the question: "The World Cup? Is Sania Mirza playing?"

No, you clowns, it's football or soccer, and it happens to be the most popular sport in the world as determined by both the humongous numbers of sports fans as well as rioting in the stadiums. Some countries shut down entirely during the World Cup. Granted, our country shuts down for pretty much any excuse, including a full moon. But the World Cup really is a major international event — except, of course, in America, where it generates about the same amount of public enthusiasm and interest as reruns of Manoj Kumar movies.

I truly believe that, even though many Indians say they hate football, if they gave it a fair chance — if they took the time to actually watch a World Cup match or two — they would still hate football. I don't know why this is so, but apparently it's not going to change. I've given up arguing with guys who tell me how boring football is, but will happily spend five days watching a cricket test match in which 95 percent of the action consists of bowlers rubbing their groin with the ball and suggestive jargon such as “two fine legs, between a slip and a gully” from the commentators.

"So what," I hear many cricket fans scoffing. "Football still sucks. Nobody ever scores and the players are a bunch of weiners with ‘60’s hairstyles and names like 'Kaka' and wimps who fall down writhing in fake agony every time they come into contact with an opposing player or stray pollen."

Yes, they do dive. Not to single out any one player, but I hear that Oscar Director for “Slumdog” has offered a role in his next film to Keita for his award winning performance on the field.

I personally find the diving to be one of the more entertaining aspects of football, which is a wonderfully theatrical sport. But don't be fooled by the theatrics: Footballers are amazing athletes, this sport requires extraordinary toughness and stamina — and, at the international level, unbelievable skill.

I first played football in school, where we had 30 players per side and could kick the ball for an entire year without scoring a goal. This was in the '60s and our football matches consisted of guys standing around the field in our house colours having philosophical discussions about topics such as girls. Every now and then the ball might roll past; if it got close enough, you might try to kick it to one of the guys wearing a similar house colour, but you would never consider actually running after it. The goal-keeps did nothing at all; they just stood there picking their noses.

After school, football and I parted ways for several decades. Then, in 2006, with Indian television covering the world cup live, my friends and I, bought 40 cases of beer and partied right through to the finals. The world cup matches were also quite good. I believe the winner was either Italy or France. It’s still hazy.

This year I watched about half the games (those which aired during my waking hours), and stayed up agonizingly for the semis and the final, and it became abundantly clear that India needs to address the following if we ever hope to be competitive in world football.

1. Find, import, build, buy, grow or steal some footballers. It is blatantly obvious that our front line cannot compete with the world-class talent of European and South American teams. We don't have anybody who is fast or strong…… Baichung Bhutia is our only striker. When your midfielder is a guy named Climax Lawrence you need to rethink your strategy, and whatever happened to I.M.Vijayan?

2. Somebody go down to Spain and get a Spanish coach, then get our kids into football jerseys with a big Indian tri-colour plastered to the front of it. At the same time maybe it's time to shut the Pakistan border as we have plenty of cricket players…I think.

Playing football is immensely popular amongst kids so it's not like they aren't being exposed to it. In this country, football is still seen mainly as a game played by kids and unemployed youth who eventually outgrow it and take up traditional Indian sports such as minority bashing and eve teasing.

We all know that football will never be anything more than the fourth sport in this country and people will point to this as to why we cannot qualify for a World Cup let alone win one. This is total B.S.; fourth or fifth place still means you can get lakhs of viewers, especially with the right kinds of cheerleaders and Bollywood celebs in attendance.

Of course it will never be as popular as cricket or politics, but just consider the 1.2 billion plus Indian population as opposed to some of the countries who are in the World Cup with less than 10 % of that population, Uruguay’s population is less than 1%.

The way I see it even if only one-in-ten thousand kids are interested, India would have more talent than any other country to select from.

Indian football should be investing in youth programs. With the internet, satellite TV etc it's about time we start getting some good football in this country on TV because our kids know how to watch TV and play video games which is the first step to getting interested and eventually good.

I'm convinced that if the World Cup was every year India would be more competitive because this country does get into it for big events. It's just hard to follow Indian football which is so amateurish it’s like watching the equivalent of a game of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. I would like to watch good football it's just hard to find an Indian team to root for.

But most importantly we need a coach who can teach our players to act because it's very obvious that if you can't grab your leg in abject pain and agony when a guy slides 3 metres away from you, you'll never compete on the big stage.

My FIFA World Cup 2010 Rant.

I can’t say I’m the first person to rant about this and I’m sure as hell not going to be the last but is there anything more asinine in this world than the fact that in 2010 there still are sports which refuse to embrace technology?? I am so sick and tired of watching a perfectly well-played game get decided because some half-blind referee made a bone-head call.

It is completely ridiculous that in the World Cup, watched closely by more people in the world than any other sporting event, including the Beijing Olympics, some referees are the only ones apparently not watching the game and THEY are the ones who decide the outcome!!

Last month Kaka was denied a perfect game because some fat referee was scratching his haemorrhoids at the time of Keita’s faking a nose bleed.

The so-called “human element” is one of the dumbest concepts in the history of the game. Maybe a century ago before television this was an excuse, but in 2010 when every person in the stadium has a smart phone able to stream an instant replay in seconds, it’s ridiculous that the referee can’t possibly ask for the same thing.

Frankly football has so many completely convoluted rules you could write a book. Football is so ass-backwards that they don’t even have the clock tick down like any normal sport, they have it ticking up. As for the extra-time; no one knows how much time it will be because the clock is kept on the field. This is like boxing where the 2 boxers fight it out with no idea how far into the round they are. Then there is the lame–brain off-side rule, and don’t get me started on the equally retarded penalty-corner that is more in favour of the defending team. And what are those Adidas’ Jabulani balls made of? Flubber?!!

This World Cup, which has been great, will be remembered primarily for those stupid vulvazelas,(yes, I call them that because they do send out genital noises). I bet South Africa would not have been selected to host the world cup had the selection committee but known about them, and even though their team was not favored to win, the South African fans blew away all other nations in the competition for the title of “Most Irritating Sound Made In Any Tournament”. You knew this because they would constantly entertain the public with mass ear-bleeding.

Second place of course would go to the total amount of blown calls by the refs. FIFA in its stupidity keeps throwing the “human element” at us which is an argument you only make when you have no argument to make.

Why can’t they review a goal? How many major matches have to be decided by “human error”?

Whether it’s the “Hand of God”, the “Hand of Congress(I)” or just the good old “Hand Job” someone has to blow (pun intended)some sense into FIFA. How many times do you need your biggest games decided by the worst calls? Crucial goals were taken off the board because of calls that were so blatantly bad they could have been correctly called by Kaka’s 70 year old grandmother Vera.

If FIFA should have learnt anything, it is that on their biggest stage their refereeing system is the laughing stock of the world. No matter how many years you have played without replay it is time to join the 21^st century, any moron that still claims that the human element adds something to the game must be living in the stone-age when balls were still cubes.

Another Public Service Announcement

How to save money on petrol/diesel

It makes no sense boo-hooing over the governments deregulation and subsequent increase in petroleum products. It’s only going to get more expensive in the days to come, given that:

A) The oil leak by BP (Barefaced Polluters) in the Gulf of Mexico does not seem to be nearing a solution.

B) America which has a reputation for guzzling gas, especially during the summer months increases its demand and processing prices alone go up by about 3 to 4 rupees a litre.

C) The government is never,never,never,never,never, EVER going to reduce excise and taxes on petroleum products, in fact they are probably already thinking of an additional petroleum “luxury” tax. Yes, it will soon BE a luxury to drive your car or bike on Indian roads, pot-holed as they may be.

On the plus side however, by declaring a ‘Bharat Bandh” the opposition has actually benefited Indian fuel consumerism in the same way the recession brought gas prices down globally.

But whether you're planning a road trip or just trying to avoid spending your paycheck on your daily commute, there's a lot you can do to save money on fuel. The best strategy is to simply drive less often, maybe carpooling or cycling instead, but even if that's not possible here is a list of things you CAN do to save both time and money.

1) Steady as you go.
Mileage lessens in most vehicles at high speeds. For cars once you're going faster than about 70 - 80 kmph; for every 10 kmph you drive over 80 kmph, you're essentially paying an extra 3 rupees per litre of petrol.

Try to maintain a constant speed on the highway. It can also help to use your car's overdrive gears, which save fuel and engine-wear.

2) Drive Smart in traffic
Aggressive driving — speeding, swerving, sudden acceleration and braking — is not only dangerous, it can lower your mileage 33 percent on highways and 5 percent on city streets. Revving your engine when in neutral is even more wasteful.

Anticipate when you need to reduce your speed or stop, slow down and change into the appropriate gear instead of slamming on the brakes. By coasting to a stop you save precious fuel and lessen wear on your tyres as well.

3) Don’t completely chill out
Air conditioning can be a big drain on fuel, so make sure you don't just leave it on absentmindedly, and especially don't have it going with your windows down, even if they just cracked open. You can improve your fuel efficiency in stop-and-go traffic by turning off the A/C and rolling down the windows instead, but in summer and given the dust and air pollution outside your car on Indian roads that's not really a very good idea.

When driving above 70 kmph, especially for long periods on highways, the opposite is true — open windows make the car less aerodynamic by letting in air, which increases air resistance and decreases fuel efficiency. On long road trips, using air conditioning could actually improve your mileage by up to 20 percent.

4) Don't just squat there
On top of pointlessly pumping out greenhouse gases without actually getting you anywhere, idling vehicles also contribute to ground-level ozone, airborne particulate matter and other near-surface air pollution. These emissions can aggravate asthma and even hinder breathing in otherwise healthy people, especially children and the elderly.

If you're just idling to warm up your vehicle in cold weather, it still only needs to run less than a minute. Anything beyond that is just wasting fuel.

5) Tune up
Repairing a vehicle that needs a tune-up or has failed an the pollution control test can improve its fuel efficiency by an average of 4 percent. More serious problems, like a faulty oxygen sensor, can reduce mileage by up to 40 percent.

And don't forget to get an oil change roughly every 5,000 kilometres or three months whichever comes first. (or you could look into importing and installing an Electro-Lube Oil Refiner, which reportedly eliminates the need for oil changes while boosting efficiency 3 to 4 percent).

6) Pump it up
Keeping your tyres properly inflated can improve fuel efficiency by about 3.3 percent. It's also safer and lengthens the lifespan of your tyres, since under-inflated tyres lose their tread quickly in addition to wasting fuel. Regular checkups for your tyres' alignment and balance aren't a bad idea, either.

7) Take a load off
While it mainly affects smaller cars, carrying extra weight means burning extra fuel, no matter how big your vehicle is. On average, you may be cutting your fuel efficiency by up to 2 percent for every 50 kilos extra you carry.

8) Be slick
Using the manufacturer's recommended grade of motor oil can boost mileage by 1 to 2 percent. Try to also use the regular unleaded fuel that's appropriate for your car, since high-octane grades cost several rupees more per litre.

Fill up at a trusted fuel bunk to be sure, but as long as your engine doesn't start knocking, you're probably OK. Switching from premium to regular fuel would save thousands of rupees every year.

9) Put a lid on it
Fuel can evaporate from a vehicle's tank if it's able to find an opening, which is bad for your wallet and your lungs. Make sure your gas tank's cap is tightened securely after you fill up, and if the cap's thread is worn or it fits too loosely, you might want to buy a new one. Also don’t fill your tank right to the brim, not only is it hazardous, there is also the possibility of spillage with fuel sloshing around when the vehicle is in motion.

10) Join the aam aadmi
Carpool or, even better, don't take a car at all — walk, ride a cycle, or take mass transit. It saves you money, improves your personal health, and helps the planet by keeping greenhouse gases out of its atmosphere. Try to work from home as much as possible…. if you have that option.

Happy motoring… and remember be courteous on the road, the guy who cuts you off or keeps blowing his horn from behind, may be carrying a lot of emotional garbage.