Friday, August 12, 2005

Peter Osgood for Chelsea (v AC Milan), 16 February 1966

I hate Barry Davies.

There, I have said it. I feel better. Now I know this statement is akin to saying that you hated the Queen Mother and that you thought she was a doddery old wench with a penchant for boney fish and a tenner on the 3.30pm at Uttoxeter (eh? Oh.), but nonetheless I am going to stand by this assertion.

Thankfully, he has retired from football commentary. Although the same cannot be said for all the other sports which suffer from Barry’s patronising musings. I have heard him commentate at Wimbledon, on ice-dancing, on obscure Olympic events. The BBC applaud his wide ranging skill and general sporting knowledge. I say “jack of all trades, master of none”.

When was the last time you heard Motty commentating on pursuit cycling? Or badminton? Quite right. Never. Motty is a proper one sport commentator.

The problem with Barry Davies is that he applies his (and I use the word very loosely) “style” to everything he does. As I see it, this style involves:

1. Setting the scene by using language that makes it sound like you’re watching a 1950s police drama.

2. Patronising every mistake, foul or infringement by using words like “quite unnecessary”.

3. Spending five minutes saying nothing because you think the viewer respects you for doing that (when actually what they want is commentary which is what you are being paid for)

4. After the five minutes of silence, making a noise that sounds like you’ve just been walloped in the gonads.

It’s the noise that angers me the most. Yelling “oooooooooooooooooooooof” when something of importance happens. Making a career out of the noises Paul Whitehouse makes as the “suits you” character is frankly preposterous.

Anyway, I am going to start a regular feature called “Mr And Mrs Barry Davies” telling the ordinary day to day tales of an ordinary sports commentator....

Mr And Mrs Davies – Part 1

At the restaurant.

[Barry and Maureen Davies walk into the Chinese restaurant. They are seated by the waiter.]

Maureen: “It’s nice in here isn’t it?”

Barry: “Welcome to the Woo Sang. It’s a balmy night in Romford as you join me for this Chinese meal. It’s the sixteenth time we’ve met in this restaurant and so far it’s nine-six to me in terms of who has paid the bill. The restaurant has been decked out for the occasion in the colours of the Dong-Hang-Ming dynasty dating back to several thousand years ago.”

Maureen: “What are you having for a starter, love? I’m having the Sesame Prawn Toast.”

Barry: “Oh, that’s dreadful. A dreadful mistake, and I wouldnt be surprised if that costs you the whole meal. Terrible. What were you thinking? I can’t believe you didn’t even consult the assistant for a second opinion before making that decision. Frankly that could alter the whole outcome.”

Maureen: “And them I’m having the Sweet and Sour Chicken”.

[Barry looks at the menu in silence for six and a half minutes]

Barry: “Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooof. Lovely rice. Lovely rice.”

(Admittedly, this feature may not run to a whole series. That won’t stop me trying, though.)


red one said...

Barry looks at the menu in silence for six and a half minutes

"we're nearly a quarter of the way through the first half, Maureen, and it's been a quiet start for the home side's waiters."


swisslet said...

he's a tit and I hate him too. I danced in the streets when I heard he was retiring from football commentary,and I look forward to the day when he stops poisoning the airwaves with his noxious tripe on sports he ill understands and presumes he knows more about than me.

"Oh I say! Marvellous!"

Piss off. I think that's what is called a triple salchow, and it's bloody difficult to do, and deserves more than just some lazy arsed exclamation of delight.

ahem. Enough about ice dance.

Jonathan Pierce may be too shrill for some, but for anyone with ears it's clear he knows a hell of a lot about football and cares deeply about it. The same definitely cannot be said of this ridiculous preening twerp.


Ben said...

I'm very much with you on this one, Lord Bargain. Good riddance to the pompous prick.

Me said...

Great blog, guys.

I dislike Barry too. I once wrote a song about football commentators which included the line, "I've heard Barry paraphrase Homer and the bible." I was mocking him, of course. Football commentary should be all about mixed metaphors and speaking about something that has just happened in the present tense when it should be in the past tense.

I've had a stinker of a first day of the Premiership season. Here in Singapore we get three live games on a Saturday and three on a Sunday. I missed all six goals in the first two games because I was doing something like talking to my girlfriend or getting another beer.

Schoolboy errors.

There are two channels to choose from and I chose the West Ham game, but flicked over to the Bolton - Villa game and saw I'd missed another four goals.

Trevor Francis was doing the co-commentary on Bolton - Villa and every single time I turned it on, he was talking.

Worse than Barry?