1. Charlie Austin could be England’s next casualty

QPR’s set of has-beens and nearly-men launched a lively comeback after going 2-0 down in the first 20 minutes against fellow strugglers West Brom. All goals came from their man of the moment, Charlie Austin, whose hat-trick secured three points for the Hoops.

Austin deserves acknowledgment for his recent performances, but as usual, this brief spell of form has stirred up speculation over his potential inclusion in the England squad.

Let’s keep our heads here. Austin is a competent, hard-working striker who is shining in his current role as key target man in a struggling side, but he will never be much more than this. Selecting a second-rate player based purely on a short run of form is a mistake that England repeat time and time again and which has never, ever worked – either for England or for the players concerned.

By all means, let Austin enjoy his moment in the sun, but remember that he is essentially little more than a poor man’s Rickie Lambert. That is a very, very long way from World Cup quality.

2. Young strikers give Hodgson something to think about

Regardless of Charlie Austin’s shortcomings, he’s done enough to ensure that his name is on a list of young(ish) forwards – along with Harry Kane, Saido Berahino and Danny Ings – who will at least give Roy Hodgson something to think about when he names his next England squad.

The fact that these inexperienced and admittedly limited players are even be taken into consideration is more reflective of England’s lack of genuine quality upfront, but when you consider that Hodgson named just three strikers – one of which was Ricky Lambert – for the October qualifiers, it’s hard not to feel that familiar sense of false hope, particularly with Daniel Sturridge due back in the New Year.

3. Benteke is back and badder than ever

Following his frustratingly long spell out of the game since last April‘s injury, Christian Benteke proved he has slipped well and truly back into his stride in Aston Villa’s home clash against Manchester United this week.

Benteke’s goal on 18 minutes was a sublime finish, and only David de Gea’s heroics prevented him from securing all three points for his club. Always an imposing presence, Benteke made it his business to bully and hound United’s back four throughout the game, at times making Phil Jones look like an anaemic teenager in his wake.

Benteke’s aggression wasn’t only reserved for United’s makeshift defence, however, as Villa’s Leandro Bacuna felt the full force of the Belgian’s wrath for failing to successfully knock a cross to him in the final minute of the game. If Benteke is able to keep his fitness up this time around, he could once again be the difference between mid-table mediocrity and a relegation scrap for Villa.

4. Man City don’t need strikers when they have Silva (and linesmen) on their side

Manchester City shrugged off speculation over a current lack of strikers affecting their title credentials by comfortably beating Crystal Palace to go level with Chelsea (for at least 48 hours, anyway). After a tepid first 45 minutes, City eventually proved too formidable for the Palace defence, with David Silva showing why he’s still so important to the club with an excellent brace in the second half.

Palace were prevented from reducing the deficit to a single goal soon after going two goals down, when a perfectly legitimate header from James McArthur was ruled offside by the linesman.

Through their harsh financial penalties, the FA have effectively silenced Neil Warnock from making his trademark tirades against the officials this season, leaving the Eagles’ boss with little option other than to hint towards his dissatisfaction with the appalling decision with rather unsubtle innuendo and figurative eyebrow-raising in his post-match interview.

Still, given the canter at which City eventually won, it’s questionable just how much of an effect it would have had on the overall outcome of the game.

5. Skrtel is the hardest man in the Premier League

Martin Skrtel, perhaps the only Premier League star who could pass as part of the ‘American History X’ cast, left no doubt over his hard man credentials on Sunday, after Oliver Giroud stamped on his head (accidently, we should add) causing blood to gush out of the nasty-looking wound in full view of the Sky Sports cameras.

Skrtel not only returned to the pitch looking like a bandaged warrior, but scored with a thunderous header in the 96th minute to earn a 10-man Liverpool a much deserved point (although, really they should have taken all three).

Less impressive was Skrtel’s weak defending in the first half, losing an aerial duel to Mathieu Debuchy who nodded in a lose ball to make it 1-1, but the Slovakian made sure he atoned with interest.

Connor Pierce & Alex Andrews

For the amount of money that Tottenham Hotspur has spent on its youth academy, you could forgive the club’s chairman Daniel Levy for feeling a little short-changed. It was a different story, however, during Spurs’ astonishing New Year’s Day take-down of Chelsea, with Mauricio Pochettino naming five players in his starting XI who have all worked their way the club’s youth ranks (if not exactly starting their careers at Tottenham).

By now, you’ll know that it was 21-year-old Harry Kane who was once again the most lethal weapon in Spurs’ armoury, assisting two goals and scoring two of his own, but you may not have fully considered just how unimaginable this would’ve seemed not so long ago, or why Kane finding form is so important for a club, which is apparently going through a ‘transition season’ for what surely must be the third year running.

ALSO READ: Don’t write off Spurs, Lamela could still be lethal

The narrative at Tottenham for the past year or so has been how to fill the Gareth Bale-shaped void in the club. Levy’s relentless pursuit for new talent cost the club more than £100 million and at least one man his job. But perhaps the gravest consequence was that it robbed Tottenham of its identity: seven relatively obscure players were drafted in from foreign leagues, as fan favourites like Jermain Defoe, Sandro and Benoît Assou-Ekotto were phased out.

Meanwhile, Harry Kane – on the back of unsuccessful loan spells at Norwich and Leicester – was Instagramming pictures of his dinner at Nando’s and his many holidays abroad.

Failing to make much of an impact when Harry Redknapp first started fielding Spurs’ new crop of weedy-looking youngsters on dreary Europe League weeknights, no one would’ve guessed that Kane would emerge as the pick of the bunch. But where as once-lauded youngsters like Tom Carroll, Stephen Caulker and to a certain extent, Andros Townsend have so far failed to deliver on what was promised from them, Kane has not only exceeded expectations, but smashed them into smithereens.

With André Villas-Boas driven out of Tottenham little more than a year ago, Kane rewarded interim manager Tim Sherwood’s faith in him, scoring in three consecutive Premier League appearances at the tail end of last season.

New boss Pochettino decided – perhaps naively – not to invest any more money on attacking options and Kane was given another chance to prove himself in the Carling Cup and Europa League this season. He rose to the new challenge remarkably well and made it increasingly difficult for Pochettino to resist giving him a regular start in light of the side’s misfiring strike force.

The tipping point came at Villa Park, with Kane coming off the bench in the second half to help his struggling teammates breakdown a 10-man Aston Villa. When Spurs won a free kick outside the edge of the area in the game’s dying minutes – and Kane had the audacity to hover over the ball, pushing aside Townsend and Erik Lamela – you could already sense him bending the ball into the corner of the net, such was his form at the time. It didn’t exactly happen like that; Kane struck the ball sweetly, but it cannoned off of Nathan Baker’s head and bamboozled goalkeeper Brad Guzan to seal a lucky win for Spurs, and perhaps more importantly, announce Kane’s arrival.

Kane made consecutive starts against Stoke and Hull, suddenly finding himself above both Emmanuel Adebayor and Roberto Soldado in the pecking order. While he didn’t score against Everton, it was his best performance so far; he covered an incredible 13 km of ground (more than any Premier League player that week other than Burnley’s George Boyd) and worked tirelessly to both penetrate and contain Everton, helping his side to achieve another 2-1 win.

To hear Kane’s name holler around White Hart Lane or to watch him stumble gormlessly through a post-match interview, doing his best to reflect on another MOTM performance, is something that no one would have predicted.

But besides the goals, there are perhaps bigger, more poignant reasons why Spurs fans – who may have once mocked Kane – have taken the lanky centre-forward into their hearts so dearly. While the bulk of Spurs’ new arrivals from their summer of love remain unknown quantities both on the pitch and off, Kane is a local lad who grew up supporting the club. He plays like any fan would: getting stuck in, hassling the defence, covering large amounts of ground and celebrating passionately.

Kane’s work rate has been the difference; it has led some to suggest that he’s a natural fit for Pochettino’s high-pressing style and initially, it allowed fans to look past his somewhat comical, gangly physique and technical deficiencies. But against Chelsea, Kane proved to the doubters that he has more in his locker than just a knack for finding himself in the right place at the right time. His second goal was a work of art, dragging the ball back with his left foot, pivoting towards the goal and side-footing the ball past Thibaut Courtois. His first goal wasn’t bad either, cutting in from the left and blazing the ball into the back of the net from 25 yards out.

The charm of Kane is that he could be any 21-year-old lucky enough to be living his own dream. Despite his youth, he’s a throwback to simpler times; he’s been neither blessed with the looks or intelligence of a modern footballer, and his skill – which could still improve greatly over the next few seasons – appears to be learned through hard graft rather than something that was gifted to him.

It’s important that we don’t get carried away; there’s every chance that Kane’s current form might simply be a case of good fortune, like many youngsters who once burnt brightly only to find themselves in the bargain bin by their mid-20s. But at this moment in time, Kane remains an incredibly exciting prospect – for Tottenham, for England and for modern football in general.

Alex Andrews

Three moments of clarity have occurred in my life recently.

The first was when a band I had followed religiously split up after five years of blood, sweat, tears and some awesome, anthemic tunes that quite simply blew my head off. Their name was Morning Parade, a British band who had toured the US extensively and had a loyal, die-hard following that, knew every word and every note.

Their lyrics were beautiful and refreshingly poetic, and they always put on an epic gig, which left them physically and mentally exhausted and the audience captivated. They were a truly remarkable band that had explored every avenue, knocked on every door and lived and breathed their music. Then, all of a sudden – one final London show and an upsettingly moving Facebook announcement later – it was all over.

There was no admission of a band rift, no musical differences that had torn them apart, just a mutual agreement to throw in the towel. It had been too much, the time was right to quit as there was nothing else they could give or try. The machine that created them had defeated them at the same time.

They were the only band I had seen live over the last three years. They were the only band worth seeing and when it was officially all over, my stomach turned for them. They had thrown all they had at the music industry, and had been chewed up, swallowed and spat out.

After digesting their break-up for a while, I had my first of three moments of clarity; it centred on me coming to terms with what music meant to me now. If Morning Parade couldn’t stomach the music industry, then why should I continue to put up with the music that it spewed out? The easiest option felt just to give up, and not bother searching for anyone new and exciting anymore.

***

My second moment of clarity occurred at a recent house party. After the awkward ice-breaking, the conversation quickly switched to the recent ‘X Factor’ final, and the eventual winner. It appeared that the majority of the people in the group had watched the final (which seemed to run bizarrely over two nights), and they talked a lot about the format of the shows, the songs that were sang and the way they were performed. However, not once in this brief, but enlightening conversation, was the winner’s name mentioned. I honestly didn’t feel the need to ask for it.

‘X Factor’ at the moment seems to be the pinnacle of the music industry, a heavyweight machine that is delivering knockout blows to everyone and anyone who gets in its way. If this Muhammad Ali of the music industry is no longer about the musicians that it champions so much, then what is the music industry now anyway? I was left pondering this, as well as my own relationship with music. I felt so disillusioned by my favourite band splitting up and ‘X Factor’ seemed like the easiest excuse for their break-up.

Yet I knew deep down that this was an unreasonable feeling. Morning Parade hadn’t split up because of the ‘X Factor.’ The series – and the commercialisation of popular music – may have in some way impacted and limited the band’s appeal to fans seeking new and exciting music, but the music industry is suffering a bang on the head that has knocked it unconscious for a while. Rather than covering my eyes and closing my ears to any kind of exposure to new music, I have come to terms with where I am at with the music industry.

The beauty of music to me is stumbling upon it: falling in love with a support band before a headline act, Shazamming a song in a nightclub, or discovering an album in the murky backwaters of the iTunes store. Music defines us, and it certainly defines me – especially when I was at school, where I often had fallings out with friends over music taste. I spent many sleepless school nights browsing the internet over a creaky dial-up connection, searching for something new that would get me bragging rights in form the next day.

***

My third and final moment of clarity came to me when I began to remember how fun it felt to discover something fresh, both from the past and present. I realised that I had became lazy and had started to settle with old playlists that I’d listen to over and over again, as it was the easiest option.

I realised that the music industry isn’t dead, it’s just in a coma. We need to continue searching a cure for to wake it up again. We’re all separate from the music industry, and we can certainly fight what we don’t like about it but we just have to keep in touch with it, and listen to what we want to hear. This is especially easy in the age of Spotify and iTunes which both continuously throw suggested artists at us.

Music and the industry that houses it is a complex beast that I enjoy, hate and love at the same time. It’s a beast that needs to subsume you, but also something that you can easily break free from – and I am certainly up for the fight again with it.

So, here’s to you Morning Parade – and thanks for the excellent memories, but a new chapter is about to begin, for me and you, as I click on your suggested artists in the iTunes store and take the plunge again into some unknown music to see what I can find. Fingers crossed a sleepless night awaits listening to something new…

Oh, and no – I still can’t tell you who won ‘X Factor.’

Matt Cooper

1. ‘Mad Men’ bows out

The long-awaited conclusion to ‘Mad Men’ airs in the UK this spring, drawing the curtain on one of the most visually and emotionally arresting television series ever made.

Fittingly, the final series will be set in 1969, against the backdrop of one of most iconic of modern eras – the ‘60s – coming to an end. But as the decade closes, so too will American television’s recent golden age. The plethora of stunning US dramas that we have all become accustomed to over the last 15 years or so (‘The Sopranos’, ‘The Wire’, ‘Breaking Bad’ etc.) are now, for the most part, over.

Big movie actors have realised the potential and gravitas that serious television can provide, and this – coupled with the rise of online streaming services like Netflix – has transformed the industry. As the cream of the Hollywood crop start hogging all the best television parts, Mad Men could well be one of the last TV shows that truly ‘made’ its cast. This is an appropriate time to say farewell. CP

Starts in spring on Sky Atlantic

2. ‘Straight Outta Compton’

‘Straight Outta Compton,’ scheduled for release this August, is, as the title suggests, a film charting the rise to success and notoriety of hip-hop legends N.W.A.

Films inspired by hip-hop are, to say the least, a mixed bag. For every gritty piece of cultural and social realism (think ‘Boyz N The Hood’ and ‘8 Mile’) there are a dozen hagiographic, cynical money-spinners made for no reason other than to exploit a particular rapper’s fan base.

It’s difficult to tell at this stage which kind of film ‘Straight Outta Compton’ will be. On the one hand, Dr Dre and Ice Cube are the producers – so this isn’t exactly likely to go easy on the conceit and self-aggrandisement.

On the other hand, N.W.A.’s story is one hell of a tale. The reality is rich in material ripe for both sharp social commentary and debauched, hilarious rock ‘n’ roll anecdotes. If they get this right, ‘Straight Outta Compton’ could be one of the best hip hop films ever made. If they get it wrong, it’ll just descend into another crass gangsta ego massage that amounts to little more than two hours of former rappers sucking their own cocks, much like 50 Cent’s ‘Get Rich or Die Tryin.’ Let’s hope it’s the former. CP

In cinemas from 14 August

3. Star Wars: Episode VII

In a year that’s bursting at the seams with exciting new cinema releases, surely there can be no more anticipated a film than JJ Abrams’ take on Star Wars and the seventh episode in the saga ‘The Force Awakens.’ November’s excruciatingly short teaser trailer offered few clues as to how the film may pan out and fans can expect precious little further information as the months progress, with Abrams a master of keeping his cinematic secrets until the release date.

What we have been treated to is a cast list, with Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher reprising their legendary roles as Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and Princess Leia from the original trilogy. Alongside them will be a host of new talent, including upcoming Brit John Boyega (‘Attack The Block’), Adam Driver (‘Girls’) and the relatively unknown Daisy Ridley. Love it or hate it, expect the world to grind to a halt for its release. MT

In cinemas from 18 December

4. The prospect of Frank Lampard winning the Premier League for Man City

When we predicted that Frank Lampard would score a decisive goal against Chelsea we didn’t actually think it would happen. But with Chelsea virtually booking an open-top bus for their victory parade before they’d even kicked a ball, their quest for the title suddenly doesn’t look like such a sure thing. Part of that is down to Lampard; he’s wonders for Man City’s credibility as title contenders, not just as a super sub, but as someone who you can depend on can close out games.

Having committed to City until the end of the season, we’re now faced with the tantalising prospect of seeing Fat Frank awarded with a winner’s medal for the Manchester side as a dumbfounded Jose Mourinho scratches his greying stubble and thinks of what could have been. AA

Parading through Manchester in mid-May

5. Rugby World Cup

Rugby’s showpiece global event hits these shores throughout September and October, as the best in the world battle it out at a ground near you. As the host nation, England will hope to evoke the spirit of London 2012 and Euro ’96 by igniting a passionate nationalistic fervour. They have good pedigree in World Cups – winners in 2003 and finalists in 2007, before the rather embarrassing 2011 episode.

It’ll take some doing: the world champion All Blacks from New Zealand are almost unbeatable and there’s a handful of home nations who love nothing more than to beat England. But if you’re a fan of the oval ball, it’s going to be a six-week long festival of rugby that should satisfy no matter what your affiliation. MT

18 September – 31 October

6. ‘Spring Breakers 2: The Second Coming’

Harmony Korine’s ‘Spring Breakers’ was a strange one, a nightmarish day-glo joyride into the dark heart of American consumer culture, where morals – and clothes – are left by the wayside. The film left a lot to be desired; Korine was accused of everything from poor taste to full-on lechery. So why is its sequel – which Korine has already decried – included in this list? Two words: Irvine Welsh.

The foul-mouthed and often sadistically-twisted Scotsman is bizarrely handling scriptwriting duties, as Jonas Åkerlund – best known for music videos and tour documentaries – replaces Korine in the director’s chair.

Korine’s eagle eye for weird and wonderful visuals will be missed, but plotlines have never been his forte. Welsh is a far more capable writer; his tightly woven tales of Scotland’s criminal underbelly are never anything short of fascinating, so it will be fascinating to see if he can create more depth than Korine managed with his cast of American airheads and gun-touting gangsters. AA

In cinemas in late 2015

7. ‘People Just Do Nothing’ Series 2

The fact that ‘People Just Do Nothing’ is by far and away the best new sitcom to have come out of the UK in years probably says more about the state of British comedy as a whole than the show itself, but it is still a brilliantly crafted program by anyone’s standards.

Shot in the now familiar ‘mockumentary’ style, the show follows the hapless exploits of Grindah and Beats, head MC and DJ of Brentford’s second most popular pirate radio station, Kurupt FM. This isn’t the most original show in the world, but its depiction of two deluded wastrels and the gaggle of morons and losers with whom they associate is both hilarious and painfully realistic.

If you’re not already familiar with ‘People Just Do Nothing,’ and the broad, ‘70s-style slapstick dirge of ‘Mrs Brown’s Boys’, ‘Miranda’ and ‘Citizen Khan’ leaves you cold (if it doesn’t, you may be better of reading a different blog altogether), you could do worse than familiarising yourself with this show. Check out the early YouTube webisodes and pretend like you were in on it from the start. CP

Starts in summer on BBC Three and iPlayer

8. Under-21s Euro 2015

Taking place in Prague, the stag do capital of Europe, UEFA’s European Under-21 Championship 2015 is a chance for the nerdiest of armchair pundits and social media ITKs to gen up on Europe’s most exciting new talent for the purpose of being able smugly reel off observations about a young Italian playmaker as soon as he’s linked with half of the clubs in the Premier League.

In the case of England, our under-21s – who can’t be too chuffed about spending their summer holidays with Gareth Southgate – are at least two years away from becoming money-grabbing egomaniacs and actually have a point to prove unlike their jaded seniors.

This year, we’ll get to see the likes of Danny Ings, Will Hughes and man of the moment Harry Kane representing the three lions. Who knows? It could actually be fun. AA

17 – 30 June

9. World Snooker Championship

Yes, the Snooker World Championship happens every year, so this isn’t exactly exclusive to 2015, but aside from the obvious reasons to watch snooker, after 2014’s UK Championship gave us one of the most enthralling matches in the game’s history, the World Championship simply cannot come soon enough.

After cruising into a 9-5 lead in December’s UK final, Ronnie O’Sullivan suddenly found himself at the mercy of one of the most inspired comebacks of all time by greasy young pretender, Judd Trump. With the scores level at 9-9, the match was taken into a deciding frame, in which O’Sullivan had to draw on every piece of skill and experience in his armoury to clinch victory back from the jaws of defeat with a sublime snooker.

Snooker of this standard is a joy to behold. With Rocket Ronnie and the Juddernaut both firing on all cylinders, this year’s World Championship promises to be an absolutely explosive tournament. Do yourself a favour and cancel your Easter plans this year. This could be history in the making. CP

18 April – 4 May

10. The return of Adam Curtis

On 25 January, the documentary-maker Adam Curtis will release ‘Bitter Lake,’ a new film shown exclusively on BBC’s iPlayer and his first major work since 2011’s ‘All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace.’ It follows hot on the arresting sequence that he made for ‘Charlie’s Brooker’s Wipe 2014.’

The current formula for most ‘serious’ documentaries seems to have evolved little beyond primary school education videos – essentially revolving around one egotistical presenter holding Roman artefacts in a field somewhere, interspersed with cringeworthy, Crimewatch-style historical ‘reconstructions.’

Curtis, however, has always been an auteur. His films rely almost exclusively on archive footage and first-hand interviews, and he never appears in the flesh (although his distinctively deadpan, home counties narration is ever-present).

His documentaries weave historical, political and cultural figures and events into grander narrative themes which, although sometimes over-ambitious, never fail to be thought-provoking, inspiring and often disturbing. His ability to question perceived truths and tap into society’s most subtle neuroses is almost unrivalled.

‘Bitter Lake’ will attempt to show how politicians in the west lost confidence in their own stories and increasingly gave power away to other forces, particularly global finance. At 2 hours 20 minutes, this probably sounds like heavy fare, but Curtis also has the rare ability to make the inherently complex both accessible and interesting. This is not one to be missed. CP

From 25 January on iPlayer

Connor Pierce, Alex Andrews & Mark Tilley

Every morning, even before I have managed to get out of bed; I wake up, roll over and check my phone for the latest sport news – or more specifically, the latest Spurs news on Twitter. I do this for two reasons:

1. I pray that Gareth Bale has announced overnight that he hates Spanish tapas and wants to come back to N17 for some proper Tottenham kebabs.

2. Twitter makes me so annoyed and agitated in the morning, the only reason I constantly flick onto it straight away is that it gives me a reason to get out of bed and take on the world.

I know what you’re thinking. Firstly, yes – I am a social media addict who spends far too much time on my phone, but that’s for another blog post entirely and no, I can’t just delete Twitter and be done with it. Twitter’s an unhealthy addiction that I simply cannot shake off, no matter how much I try and step away from it.

To be honest, the reasons above aren’t the real reasons I think Twitter is starting to make me hate football. Twitter is fast becoming a hive of attention-seeking morons who claim to know about football – and we are all buying into it. Myself included.

For many years, especially in light of all the recent phone-hacking scandals, journalism has become pretty lazy. The sport pages are less insightful and detailed and increasingly based upon source-less rumours that have spread across Twitter. An ‘investigative journalist’ is now someone who just trawls through thousands of tweets a day, sitting at home in his underpants. Christ, I could do that – and may even wear some jeans while I do it.

ALSO: Why the transfer window should shut before the season starts

If you’ve never been agitated by Twitter before then you should look during a transfer window. If you want me to be more specific, you should log on during the final week of a window, and start following a few ‘In the Knows’ or (#ITKs if we’re talking in Twitter speak. A person who claims to be an ITK is essentially someone who claims to know the source of a transfer rumour before anyone else and usually one of four people:

1. A club insider who gets kicks out of unveiling an imminent transfer before the club announces itself.

2. An agent who has the time during his busy day to Tweet transfer-related updates;

3. An undercover player who seems to know the inside details about every transfer that is happening up and down the country.

4. A jumped up 16-year-old who between playing with himself in his dark bedroom, is writing down all the transfer rumours that appear on his game of ‘Football Manager’ and adopts them as his own factual rumours and shares them with the world.

The other day I was browsing through the BBC Gossip column as part of my morning ritual, and was half-amused at some of the rumours floating around until I stumbled upon one of the worst made-up rumours I have ever encountered. It infuriated me, but also made me burst out laughing. The BBC had listed a rumour that Tottenham’s Vlad Chiriches was in line for a move to North London rivals Arsenal.

For someone who looks like they have won a golden ticket to play for Spurs (and they’re not hard to come by at the moment), this was the rumour that really sent me over the edge. The BBC had just fallen prank to their biggest prank EVER. Someone had literally invented an rumour and it had somehow gained enough traction that it appeared in the gossip column! If I wasn’t taking the gossip column with a pinch of salt already, I am now taking it by the bucket load and risking heart failure as a result.

Only last week Lionel Messi was linked with a move to Chelsea because he started following the club on Instagram on a day that he apparently missed training.

In both of these cases, what started as the vaguest of Twitter rumours soon went viral before being regurgitated by newsrooms that should really know better. Sure, there’s people that will enjoy and share these rumours with their followers, but for those that are more easily agitated, you have to start to see the woods through the trees.

Twitter is a platform that requires careful nurturing. It can be an enlightening, funny and sometimes eccentric place that is engaging as much as it is infuriating. The majority of people who I follow are prolific club bloggers (who have thousands upon thousands of followers) and they provide some of the most appealing debates – especially post-match – that are really worth cottoning onto. If I think a player has played particularly badly, I head to Twitter where I am often proven wrong by debates that lend a different perspective.

Twitter has opened my eyes to the unnoticed ability of certain players who had once written off. Take Tottenham’s Nabil Bentaleb; if it wasn’t for the more insightful Spurs fans that I follow, I’d still be calling for him to be dropped.

I’ve learn that Twitter is about picking your fights and in the mornings I pick the wrong fights by getting caught up in a sticky spider’s web of false and laughable transfer rumours. But the truth is that I’ll never delete Twitter. It might be a playground for fools, but who doesn’t love a briks run-around a playground with a half-inflated football, kicking lumps out of people that wind you up?

I have a love/hate relationship with Twitter; it’s a tool that perhaps I don’t quite know how to use yet. Yes, a lot of lazy journalism stems from Twitter but often the best journalism and conversation on Twitter is started by people who go completely unnoticed (much like Bentaleb). These tweeters are often fighting against the bullshitters and blaggers who are getting all the attention – and that my friends is what I really hate.

Matt Cooper

Now that Christmas and New Year’s Eve all but blurry memories and the only redeeming features of an unforgiving winter in the northern hemisphere have been packed away for another year, it’s time to buckle up and plan how you’re going to get through the rest of the season whether losing your mind.

The five albums that we’ve picked aren’t going to transport you to warmer climes, but they might just make things a little more bearable. So whether you’re devising a battle plan for commuting to work/uni/school in what might as well be the middle of the night, or even if things have gotten so bad that you’re considering hibernating until March, we suggest strapping on some decent headphones and letting us curate your soundtrack…

Bruce Springsteen – ‘Nebraska’

The legend of ‘Nebraska’ paints a picture of a youngish Springsteen – already famous from ‘Born To Run’ – holed away in his bedroom in Colts Neck, New Jersey, writing grim tales about the working classes and fringe-dwellers of America and taping them onto a four-track recorder that he’d bought to save time in the studio.

For the first time, Springsteen was able to take fully-formed song ideas into the studio to record with the E Street Band. But having some sort of epiphany, he decided that the cassette, which he’d be carrying around in his back pocket for weeks without a case, was what the people needed to hear, so he scraped the studio sessions and the demo became the album.

‘Nebraska’ is the dark horse of Springsteen’s legacy, a haunting collection of truly lo-fi cuts that would sound completely out of place nestled alongside his fist-pumping arena anthems. But it showcases his skills as a storyteller and captures a mood that many have linked with the Reagan era, but could just as easily work as a soundtrack for any gloomy situation.

TV buffs may recognise the unnervingly repetitive ‘State Trooper,’ which was chosen by another great American writer David Chase to close out the first season of ‘The Sopranos’ (which incidentally stars the E Street Band’s Steven Van Zandt as Silvio Dante).

Key track: ‘Atlantic City’

The Wrens – ‘The Meadowlands’

In truth, ‘The Meadowlands’ is too good to restrict it to any one season, but there’s an autumnal crispness to the guitars, rare moments of sunshine and a sombre feeling throughout the album that lends itself perfectly to this time of year.

Indie rock has long been the preserve of lovesick teenagers, but The Wrens were old enough to know better. As middle-aged divorcees experiencing existential crises, they wrote songs about an altogether more debilitating kind of heartbreak.

‘The Meadowlands’ is lush and expansive; some of the songs are messy and erratic, while others are wistfully catchy, but The Wrens really hit their stride when they’re at their most brooding and patient, teasing out melodies and layering guitars, piano and strings to match the lyrical melancholy.

Key track: ‘Thirteen Grand’

Burial – ‘Untrue’

Before dubstep became a buzzword for pilled-up students on their gap years, Burial was one of the genre’s original architects, making shadowy, hypnotic music that was heavy on bass and generous in its influences. The attention that ‘Untrue’ received at the time was unprecedented, forcing Burial to unmask himself in order to stop the tabloids from obsessing over his identity.

Burial’s South London upbringing and love of the night – as he revealed in this thoughtful interview – are rare pieces of information that we know about the enigmatic producer, and both are integral themes in his music.

At the heart of ‘Untrue,’ is a collection of ghostly vocal samples, chopped up, pitch-shifted and looped to create melodic hooks that decorate the album with a profound sadness. The sparse instrumentation and eerie timbre of the voices create a nocturnal feel, while the low-key drums sound like trains scraping on the tracks.

Key track: ‘Archangel’

American Football – ‘American Football’

When you think of emo, there’s a good chance that you think of angsty teens moping around shopping centres in jet-black uniforms and smudged mascara. But American Football looked like any clean-cut American college kids and mastered a brand of emo (or indie-rock, if you insist) that dealt with a much subtler kind of teenage longing and self-reflection.

Their fondness for long instrumental jams, repetitive noodling and the occasional trumpet parp finds the band teetering on the brink of post-rock territory, but although wonderfully gifted musicians, American Football prefer a looser, more relaxed feel to their compositions rather than mathematical precision.

The hush vocals and thickly-layered guitar harmonies are what makes ‘American Football’ such an intimate sounding album, but it’s the sense of nostalgia that keeps you coming back for more.

Key track: ‘Never Meant’

Kanye West – ‘808s & Heartbreak’

Detailing both the death of his mother and his break-up from his fiancée, ‘808s and Heartbreak’ found Kanye bathed in Auto-Tune, not so much rapping, but flatly crooning over a murky background of heavily synthesised sounds and stark, electronic darkness.

Kanye internalises his pain and laments about his own shallow pursuit for fame and fortune. On ‘Welcome To Hearbreak’ he sounds like he’s backed by an apocalyptic marching band, singing: “Chased the good life my whole life long, look back on my life and my life gone.”

Although divisive at the time, Kanye’s fourth album signalled a turning point in his career, as he started down a long path of doing whatever he felt like (something which we’ve now gotten used to).

Key track: ‘Welcome To Hearbreak’

Alex Andrews

A sensation goes through my body; it seems almost foreign. I’m not quite sure what it is but something is wrong.

I had left my house about thirty minutes before for my weekly long run and I felt laboured ever since never quite settling into a rhythm.

I’m sweating loads, my heart is racing… Oh god, I’m going to shit myself.

I’m out in the Surrey Hills, dog walkers galore, toilets nil. Panic begins to set in; I’ve never seen so many walkers! I accelerate past another group and accept that this is it. I run off the path, tumbling down a ravine.

I rip down my tights (yes, tights) and take one last look around before I unleash all mighty hell. I stop for a second, I could cry with relief.

Then and only then, I think about the clean up operation. I look around the forest floor for a viable brush before my glare settles on my gloved hands.

I dispose of the gloves of which I can only say served far and beyond any remit of a glove. As I clamber back to up to the path I can’t help but think: “How the hell did I get here?”

***

As a kid the only sport I spent any time playing was football and I could of made it professionally if it wasn’t for a cruel twist of fate. Afflicted from a young age with an inability to hit a cow’s arse with a banjo and cruelly devoid of any tactical awareness, I spent a lot my youth running around a pitch like a headless chicken. Heart breaking, but saying that, I did have a bit of pace about me and the stamina to run all day. It seemed a pragmatic decision to try a sport that required minimal coordination.

Some friends have never quite come to terms with why I turned to running. They call it dull and boring but I love it as a spectacle. I remember being captivated by the fairly unknown Stephen Cherono, who was paid $1 million to switch allegiance from Kenya to Qatar. The Kenyans HATED him and were determined to stop him from winning. The crowd were going ape-shit as the second best Kenyan – Ezekiel Kemboi – gave it his best shot, but Cherono kicked past him to win by half a second.

I loved it. You had joy and utter despair in equal measure. A world class display driven by greed and even a family feud, as Cherono’s own brother – who finished in fifth – refused to congratulate him.

Events on the TV inspired me and I plucked up the courage to head down to my local athletics track and joined a training group. I was a complete novice, but I had plenty of enthusiasm, summed up by my first coach saying I had “lots of heart, no head.”

I wasn’t sure which event suited me best, but there was space in the track team for the 5000 metres, which I jumped at the opportunity for my first race. I was convinced if I just tried really, really hard I’d win or be there about. I didn’t have any concept of tactics or pacing, I just went straight to the front and sped up every time someone tried to overtake. Sure enough about two laps in, I was completely fucked.

A bloke attempted to go round me again and as I tried to speed up once more he turned to me and said: “Calm down, let me help you!’” I was well past the helping stage and it was a truly humbling experience as he and many others went on to lap me as I came last in a field of over a dozen.

It was a big learning curve; I only raced intermittently through injury, before I took a hiatus from the sport. I came back with a feeling that I hadn’t even touched the sides of my potential. I got the ball rolling with a few PB’s and before you can shout “run forest, run” I was completely hooked.

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The transformation has been stark and worrying. You’ll find me most nights roaming the streets in skin-tight spandex, panting as I bounce around in my fluorescent shoes with a buff on my head. I’ve even purchased a pair of buggie smugglers so my underwear doesn’t stick out of my minuscule running shorts.

I try to tell myself – and anyone who will listen – that it’s all worth it. I have PB’s that many would be envious of and I have been able to win my fair share of trophies and prizes. I’m Surrey champion on the road and track and have gone on to represent the county. I even sometimes get offers for paid travel and accommodation for further away races – and on occasion had the balls to collapse, so the organisers had to stretcher me to the nearest A&E.

Truth be told, the one time hobby has become an obsession and there’s really not that much to distinguish between me and any other addiction.

Well the first step in any programme is to admit you have a problem…

My name is Gilbert Grundy and I am a runner. I regularly wear tights and have been known on occasion to shit in the woods.

Gilbert Grundy

1. Ronald Koeman latest gamble pays off as Saints’ hot streak continues

Who says you can’t build a team from scratch, make shrewd signings from the foreign leagues and get them to gel almost immediately? It’s rare that such experiments pay off, but Ronald Koeman has made it look remarkably easy in what many other clubs would have written off as a transition season.

Koeman took a gamble that most managers would be afraid of taking, bringing in players who had never played in the Premier League before and trusting hungry youngsters with an unnverving amount of responsibility.

If the performances of the likes of Graziano Pellè, Dušan Tadić, James Ward-Prowse and Nathaniel Clyne weren’t already enough to prove Koeman’s midas touch, his latest gamble on Eljero Elia – a player whose career has been in the doldrums for the last four years – scored twice in his second game for the club, earning the club another three points in what was a much more tightly contested affair than they’ve been used to.

2. Alan Pardew knows what he’s doing

Well, what a turn up for the books. Just a few months after 60,000 disgruntled Geordies rather unsubtlely hinted towards a faint dissatisfaction with Alan Pardew, the former Newcastle United manager has shown the Magpies just what they’re missing with two consecutive, thrilling wins as boss of a Palace side who hadn’t won in eight games before his arrival.

Pardew was keen to stress the importance of ‘mavericks,’ after last week’s win over Tottenham Hotspur, and given his unorthodox approach to management, it’s no surprise that Pardew is setting to mould the team in his own defiant image. Football’s own rebel without a cause again adopted this reckless approach on Saturday, lulling Burnley into a false sense of security by gifting them a two goal lead inside 20 minutes, before his side – led by the firepower of a rejuvenated Dwight Gayle – launched a devastating comeback on the Clarets to snatch a 3-2 victory in the game’s dying minutes.

The magnanimous Shaun Dyche naturally expressed disappointment at Burnley’s performance, but insisted his side’s spirit was not broken. This result, however, could be pivotal in deciding the outcomes of both Burnley and Palace’s seasons when May comes around. It’s a dog eat dog world down there at the bottom of the Premiership, and at the moment, it looks like Alan Pardew has the biggest teeth.

3. Arsenal do Chelsea a favour

After thumping Swansea 5-0 at the Liberty Stadium, Chelsea fans found themselves cheering on Arsenal as they travelled to the Etihad Stadium to face Man City. All of their dreams came true, as Arsenal won 2-0, opening up a five point gap at the top of the table (although City still have a game in hand). Not even Frank Lampard could save City during an ill-fated second-half cameo.

Arsenal dug deep and served up a performance that was very unlike Arsenal. They looked compact, restricting David Silva to the odd deft touch and thus cutting off the supply to Sergio Aguero, who started for the first time in six weeks.

Crucially, Arsenal were dangerous on the counter attack, with Santi Cazorla pulling the strings in midfield – and doing more than his share defensively – and Alexis Sanchez transitioning the ball quickly to steal the impetus away from City and make the usually unflappable Vincent Kompany look bang average.

4. Jermain Defoe returns to the Premier League with a whimper

Jermain Defoe’s agent must be a miracle worker. If it wasn’t enough that he managed to wangle a four-year deal with Toronto FC, the striker returned to the Premier League – having failed to make much of an impact against MLS’ creaky defences – to sign a three-and-half-year contract with Sunderland, which will keen him in gainful employment until the grand age of 35.

Defoe was thrown straight back into deep end, leading the line away at his old club Tottenham. His perceived pace and 100% record of scoring on his debut was enough to pressure Mauricio Pochettino into dropping Federico Fazio for the more agile Eric Dier at centre-back.

It’s safe to say that the change wasn’t required. Aside from getting Jan Vertonghen a little hot under the collar on two occasions, winning a cheap free kick – which Sebastian Larsson expertly converted – and very nearly a penalty early on in the game, he was rarely involved, managing just one shot on goal and being substituted in the 75^th minute.

5. No one understands the handball rule

The furore which followed Southampton captain José Fonte blocking a shot with his arm – in his own penalty box no less – during his side’s victory over Newcastle made it very clear that football fans still have no idea when a referee should penalise a player for handling the ball and when he should allow play to carry on.

In the Sky Sports studio after the game, Matt Le Tissier said the referee was right not to award a penalty, because there seemed to be no intention of Fonte’s part, based the speed at which the ball was struck and his close proximity. This riled Jamie Carragher, who argued that the vast majority of handball claims are unintentional and therefore, whether it is meant or not is irrelevant.

While Carragher may have a point that penalties and free-kicks are frequently awarded for unintentional handballs, they shouldn’t be. For all the talk of ball-to-hand, hand-to-ball and unnatural positioning of the arm, the only guidance from Fifa is that a player should be penalised if he “handles the ball deliberately.” So let’s move on shall we?

Alex Andrews & Connor Pierce

Seduced by a promotional poster showing Kate Moss in a sparkly plastic breast plate (‘Body Armour,’ 2013), which had become the highlight of my commute, I found myself at London’s Royal Academy last Sunday, perusing a range of paintings and sculptures that make up the Allen Jones retrospective.

On viewing this bold, provocative and in parts shocking collection, it is immediately clear why Jones has sparked such controversy and outrage amongst critics and feminists. However, being a woman (and for the most part, a feminist), I am not ashamed in the slightest to say that I thoroughly enjoyed (most of) his stunning and thought-provoking works.

The exhibition does not make any attempt to ease the viewer in gently: the first room contains two sculptures, each one a life-sized woman on all fours, laced into skin-clinging S&M attire. With a rectangular pane of glass fixed to her back, the first woman takes on the structure of a coffee table (‘Table,’ 1969). Balanced on the back of the second woman is a large paint palette (‘Green Table,’ 1972).

Along with ‘Chair,’ 1969, (a similarly dressed woman in another compromising position, her body this time becoming the framework of a chair as her legs support a padded seat), these are arguably the most shocking pieces in the collection and are definitely the most difficult to defend from a feminist perspective.

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With their degrading positions, expressionless gazes and their use as the body-work of household furniture, these women are powerless, void of character, and encumbered. However, looking at these sculptures I can’t help but think that they wouldn’t go amiss as part of a feminist protest piece – a dark, bitter and somewhat indignant reflection of the treatment of women by society, men and even women ourselves.

Showing his subjects as household items, Jones sculpts the ultimate domestication of women. The doll-like aesthetics and vacant stares portray these women as real life sex dolls. For me, the most interesting thing about ‘Table’ is that positioned under the woman’s face (which is pointing towards the floor) lies a hand mirror – quite literally casting a reflection of the face of vanity.

The question that arises, which I feel has been overlooked by the offended, paint-stripper throwing adversaries of Jones is essentially: “Isn’t this guy actually on our side?”

Jones does sculpt offensive and upsetting figures of women – but who’s to say that he promotes what his sculptures convey? The troubling nature and shocking content of these pieces act as a contemptuous comment on the treatment of women in a world which is becoming ever more superficial and in which women are becoming ever more objectified.

As an artist, Jones sculpts and paints his impression of society. It is not his place to portray this vision as pretty, or comforting. It may be shocking, but what better way to force an audience into seriously reflecting on his subject matter than to provoke such a strong reaction?

Charlotte Jones

2010 was a difficult year for Crystal Palace. Unable to pay its debts, liquidation loomed, and the prospect of oblivion was fast becoming a stark reality. After entering administration, the club were deducted 10 points, and as they languished forlornly in the Championship relegation zone, demotion into football’s third tier for the first time in three decades felt inevitable.

Amid this anxious and desolate atmosphere, rumours of a talented trainee called Wilfried Zaha began to circulate. One of former chairman Simon Jordan’s more sensible legacies had been to invest heavily in Palace’s youth academy, which became a source of hungry, talented and above all else, cheap players in these difficult, cash-strapped years. It was from this system that Zaha emerged at the age of 17 to make his debut.

Given the club’s over reliance on youth, Zaha’s inclusion in the Palace first team at such a young age was not a surprise. But it soon became clear that there was something special about this particular youngster. Zaha’s impact was immediate, and watching him leave cumbersome Championship defenders panting in his wake with his dazzling pace and trickery became a reason for depressed and disillusioned fans to believe in the team again.

His arrival on the scene seemed like the light at the end of an incredibly dark tunnel in the tough times that followed administration. Only a year after his debut in March 2010, he was already the most important player in the team.

***

Inevitably, word of the young Ivorian skillster spread quickly, and as Palace competed for promotion in the 2012-13 season, it was Zaha who shone brighter than almost any other player in the division.

As the hype surrounding this Championship wunderkind began to reach boiling point, so too did interest from the Premier League big boys. When Sir Alex Ferguson offered the Eagles their record fee of £10 million for Zaha to join Manchester United in January 2013 – with the promise of a return loan for the remainder of the season – it was too good an opportunity for a club to pass up, with the horrors of bankruptcy still fresh in its memory.

After an emotional play-off final, in which Zaha played superbly and was instrumental in securing victory, Palace fans said a teary farewell to quite possibly the most naturally gifted footballer the club had ever produced. They would, it was hoped, meet again as opponents in the more glamorous circumstances of the Premier League, but Zaha’s performances – and the role he had played in bringing hope to a team that had looked so desperate just a few years before – would never be forgotten.

***

Needless to say, things did not quite go according to plan.

Two years on from his transfer to United, the media furore that surrounded Zaha in that period has evaporated. In its place, phrases like ‘outcast’ and ‘reject’ are more commonly associated with his name. The majority of commentators have, it seems, already written him off as yet another over-hyped youngster who failed to make the grade at the top level. In his first season with United, Zaha did not make a single start.

It is tempting, and easy, to follow this line of thought. After all, this is a saga that has happened all too frequently to gifted youngsters who did not possess the right application, mentality or, plainly speaking, enough talent to succeed at English football‘s highest echelon. There have been countless players who, hailed as the next big thing one season, limped humbly into obscurity in the next, never to be seen again.

It isn’t fair to tar Zaha with this brush. Various rumours spread last season as to the reason for Zaha’s exclusion from the United squad, from the ridiculous to the believable. But while the tall tales of his liaisons with David Moyes’ daughter provided hilarious tabloid fodder for football fans all over the country, the reports of his apparent attitude problems seemed equally implausible to those who had seen him play for Palace.

Although sometimes inconsistent (what young player isn’t?), Zaha’s dedication had never been in question. He was undoubtedly a team player, and always committed to defending when required. The impression he cast to the media in that period was that of a shy, religious boy who preferred to let his football do the talking, and who by no means fit the vulgar stereotype that most young British footballers eagerly conform to.

It is also important to consider the nature of his transfer, and the subsequent events that followed. Zaha arrived in Manchester in the summer of 2013 to a very different club from the one he had signed for. Fundamentally, of course, it no longer included Ferguson at the helm. The manager who had brought United so much unrivalled success, who had such a spectacular track record in developing young talent and who – most importantly in this case – had clearly seen enough promise in Zaha to fork out a sizeable sum for him, was now absent.

In his place was the hapless David Moyes, a manager hopelessly out of his depth who had never shown any interest in Zaha in the first place. In the pandemonium that was United’s 2013-14 season, it is little wonder that Zaha fell by the wayside. As the confidence of the entire United team seemed to collapse at the hands of Moyes’ inept leadership, it is hardly surprising that Zaha’s confidence also fell.

It is interesting to compare Zaha’s progress with that of Raheem Sterling – another young player who garnered attention at around the same time. When the pair first appeared on the scene, Zaha looked the more innately talented of the two – or at least the more skilful. Amid the atmosphere of a club willing to invest in and nurture him by giving him significant game time with world class players, however, Sterling has gone from strength to strength.

Zaha, on the other hand, has stalled in a way that is all too commonplace for talented players left on the fringes of squads too large for them to play a proper part in. Doling him out on loan to the incompetent Ole Gunnar Solskjaer at Cardiff City in January 2014 was no doubt equally damaging to his development.

***

Zaha now finds himself back where he started – at Crystal Palace, albeit as a loanee. But his homecoming was not the kind of triumphant fanfare that he – or Palace fans – would have hoped for. His return in August 2014 was humble, even sheepish, in comparison to the glory of his departure, and he has struggled to reclaim his place in the side amongst tougher competition than he previously faced.

But this, at least, is an environment where he can grow. As Palace’s ship now also seems to be steadying under the stewardship of Alan Pardew, Zaha may find himself able to rediscover some of his former magic. He has already shown glimpses of what he is capable of under Pardew – none more visibly than in Palace’s recent victories over Tottenham, Burnley and Southampton, where he played important roles in and showed promising signs that his career could be getting back on track.

Zaha was truly one of the most exciting young players to have emerged out of England in the last five years, and at 22 he is still at the start of his career. He needs development and support to regain his confidence, but it is simply too early to write him off as a failure. If enough faith is shown in him, he may yet go some way to fulfilling the incredible potential he once showed.

Connor Pierce

1. ‘Fortitude’ leaves a bloody footprint

It’s not often that you get a British drama that actually looks like it has a decent budget behind it, so ‘Fortitude’ certainly had a lot to live up to. Naturally, Sky bigged it up with the kind of hyperbole that’s usually saved for the Manchester derby and thankfully, it didn’t fizzle out into a stalemate.

The action-packed opener introduced a whole host of characters to map out a complex puzzle, but did little in the way of putting the pieces together. Instead, the viewer was lured in with a sleek sequence of gory images, strange creatures and a sweaty death metal band, ending with the promise of a mystery that will presumably unfold in the coming weeks.

The sprawling, double-length episode brought ‘Twin Peaks’ weirdness together with the stark violence of a modern Scandi-drama, as recognisable actors served as a reminder that you were watching a quality piece of TV. The show is never going to be as culty as ‘Game of Thrones’ or ‘Lost,’ but with some clever scripting, ‘Fortitude’ could pack a similar punch this year.

2. Welcome to ‘Wolf Hall’

The much-anticipated TV adaptation of Hilary Mantel’s excellent Tudor novel, ‘Wolf Hall’ strode into its second episode this week, starring Mark Rylance as protagonist Thomas Cromwell and token ginger Damian Lewis as his petulant boss, Henry VIII.

I had been cynical about this show before it started, expecting more frothy period drama nonsense with Benedict Cumberbatch and David Tennant playing every role, but the adaptation is actually very good. Mark Rylance is a somewhat flattering version of Cromwell in the looks department compared with the pig-eyed, double chinned battle-axe of Hans Holbein’s most famous portrait of him, but then, ‘Wolf Hall’ was never supposed to be a history book. Rylance gives an excellent account of the intense, intimidating but ultimately sympathetic Cromwell of Mantel’s novels, and this is all the show should be expected to deliver.

It’s good to see that the BBC can still make decent drama when it puts its mind to it. A few quibbles with some of the more secondary roles aside (Claire Foy does not make a good Anne Boleyn), this has started very promisingly. The absence of anyone who has ever been involved with ‘Doctor Who’ was also a huge relief.

3. Mike Skinner loves country music more than life itself

As one of Britain’s finest 21st century storytellers, Mike Skinner’s love of language is no secret. But it was still novel to hear him admit to getting “hella into country” in what was pretty much a three-hour love letter to the genre on BBC’s 6 Music.

Filling in for Gilles Peterson, Skinner picked a selection of tracks that reflected his love of storytelling lyrics and packed in the likes of Kenny Rogers, Kris Kristofferson and Loretta Lynn. There were some fascinating insights into the way Skinner works and some of his closest influences came as a surprise. Who would’ve guessed his favourite song of all time was ‘A Boy Named Sue?’

In a rare break from all the southern-fried heartbreak, Skinner threw in a few curveballs, including The Beatles’ ‘Eleanor Rigby,’ Oasis’ ‘Half The World Away’ and The Smiths’ ‘Stop Me If You Think,’ where he cued up the track with a lovely assessment of Morrisey: “[He] often sounds like a man talking past you, but says some amazing things on the way.”

4. ‘Catastrophe’ is anything but

The second episode of ‘Catastrophe’ made it clear that the success of the first episode wasn’t just down to beginner’s luck. For those that haven’t seen it, the premise is simple: a somewhat bumbling but all-round decent American businessman (Rob Delaney) gets an Irish woman (Sharon Horgan) pregnant while visiting London after what they describe as a “six-night stand.” The couple – who still barely know each other – then decide to make a go of things, causing hilarity to ensue.

The interplay between Delaney and Horgan is most certainly the driving force behind the show and the American/British crossover feels like Channel4 is trying to replicate the winning formula behind ‘The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret.’

It’s sweet, funny and very promising, but you wonder if there are enough legs on such a familiar story to keep things fresh and funny throughout.

5. The Olympics is next year. Scary, right?

Last Sunday I had some spare time. So much spare time in fact, that I decided to browse the BBC Sport website in its entirety and I stumbled across a video of diver Tom Daley. Now, I am not a huge fan of Daley; I recognise what he has done for British sport and think he’s a commendable competitor but truth of the matter is – I find him quite irritating.

Anyway, the video of Daley was a recent interview of him telling the viewer about his new dive (something about twisting, hopping and splashing), and in the midst of explaining this, he managed to drop in that the Olympics was next year. NO WAY. I simply won’t believe it. I mean..London 2012 was only last summer, right?

Somehow the Olympics has sprung itself upon us again and despite being shocked that the time had flown past so quickly – I am rather excited to be welcoming it to our TV screens. You can’t beat the thrill of the Games, especially when Great Britain actually has some half-decent athletes. I know it’s on January, but roll on next year…

Alex Andrews, Connor Pierce & Matt Cooper

The chances are that the above headline will decide whether you’re going to spare me your time or not. If you’re staunchly anti-rugby, it’s likely you’ve been so repulsed by my suggestion that I am already addressing an empty space. But if a tiny bit of you is partial to the idea of an oval ball, then welcome. This is a safe environment.

I’ve found the issue of rugby vs football to be quite the contentious topic, with a surprising level of hostility arising at the mere suggestion that other sports outside of football even exist. The main bone of contention between the two sports has always seemed to be down to class – rugby being the privately-educated, investment banker’s sport of choice and football lending itself more to the working classes. Of course, it goes without saying that all of that is nonsense.

I myself am as common as the next man, born on the unforgiving streets of suburban London (otherwise known as Surrey) and brought up on an exclusive diet of football. But I’ve since found it possible to incorporate other sporting pursuits into my daily obsessions.

Rugby is no more suited to me than I am to it. I am 5 ft 10 in and weigh 83 kg. The thought of throwing myself at someone on a cold January afternoon in an effort to strip them of a ball and thus expose myself to similar challenges from much bigger bodies is enough to make me shudder. But in becoming immersed in the sport from a spectator’s point of view, I’ve found rugby to be every bit as rewarding to me as its football cousin has been for so long.

So with the 2015 Six Nations about to kick off, now is a perfect time for anyone feeling a little try-curious to dive in and discover why the sight of 16 gigantic blokes passing a ball backwards and wrestling in packs is a true sporting spectacle.

1. England has a national team to actually be proud of

I’m not going to make too many about comparisons between rugby and football, but for all the much-publicised shortcomings of Wayne Rooney, Jack Wilshere and co in recent years, our national rugby team have been making promising strides.

Since a highly embarrassing 2011 Rugby World Cup in New Zealand, which was blighted by poor off-field behaviour and lacklustre performances, head coach Stuart Lancaster has slowly put together a squad and a team culture that has taken England far away from those dark days.

One of only two teams in the last three years to defeat the supposedly undefeatable All Blacks, England have developed a team that can, on their day, beat pretty much anyone else in the world.

The recent autumn series was disappointing in that they weren’t able to overcome New Zealand and South Africa, the two best sides on the planet. But, though the performances weren’t spot on, both defeats were marginal and England did manage to put one over Australia – who are set to become familiar opponents next year (see no. 2).

There’s still some way to go but England regularly turn out performances to be proud of – even if the end results don’t always go the right way. They also have a strong connection to their 80,000 strong home crowd at Twickenham, which is a refreshing change from the soporific atmosphere at a half-empty Wembley.

2. Rugby’s coming home…

Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock for the past five or so years, you’ll know that the Rugby World Cup is being hosted in jolly old England this Autumn. The economic benefit to the UK has been projected at almost £1 billion. Whether or not that is the case, there is certainly the potential for the tournament to have an overall effect on the country at a level similar to the London Olympics – especially if England deliver the goods.

As already mentioned, England are nowhere near the finished article yet, but with a powerful forward unit that can threaten anyone, it’s plausible to say they are building towards a side that can – with a bit of fortune – make a serious impact next year. Escape from a tough group featuring both Wales and Australia and they could go on a run towards the final which could evoke memories of the football boys at Euro 96.

It’s not just England to be excited about either. With games to be staged across the length of the country, there should be a huge interest in some of the pool stage fixtures, where fans in Birmingham can enjoy an immensely physical clash between the giants of South Africa and Samoa at Villa Park. Or if you’re up north, why not see if the rising USA can cause an upset against an occasionally fragile Scotland at Elland Road?

3. The Six Nations

When the England football team visited Glasgow towards the end of 2014 and beat Scotland 3-1 in fine style, it got me thinking about the possibility of regular clashes between the home nations. The passionate atmosphere created by the Scots, the actual interest in the game shown by the England players, the euphoric celebrations that followed each goal – this was the type of occasion that mirrored fixtures seen in rugby’s annual Six Nations tournament.

A seven-week gamut of emotion and nationalistic fervour, the Six Nations is an exceptional competition, contested by teams that, to varying levels, are absolutely desperate to beat each other. The Welsh hate the Irish, the Irish hate the Welsh, while the Italians and the French don’t get on. Of course, everyone despises England.

The rugby might not always be of the highest quality. Played at the back end of winter, Six Nations games have all too often been the sort of weather-ruined, low-scoring, forward-dominated power plays that those from the southern hemisphere like to deride.

But the emotion on display is often enough to make it enough of an event and at least four of the teams are relatively well matched. Italy are the whipping boys (though on a very steady improving curve), Scotland are just about above them but still there for the taking, France are gloriously unpredictable and England, Wales and Ireland can all beat each other on their day. It all makes for superb viewing.

4. The game is thriving domestically

The Aviva Premiership is a flourishing competition which year-on-year has four or five serious title contenders. The last four seasons have seen four different winners and the end of season play-offs add to the sense that anyone can win; it might not be necessarily fair, but finish fourth and you can still win the title.

With a healthy mix of seasoned favourites, foreign superstars and up-and-coming English talent, the quality of the rugby on display is the next best thing to international level. And a direct outcome of the quality of the players is some utterly absorbing fixtures.

Admittedly, the crowds at places like London Welsh or Newcastle might be less than impressive, but this is offset by regular sell-outs at places such as Leicester, Northampton and Harlequins, where thousands of die-hard fans lend vociferous vocal support week-in-week-out.

In short, the English domestic scene is thriving. English players are encouraged to stay in the Premiership, mostly by the rule that only domestically-based players can play for England. If that sounds barbaric, consider the situation in Wales where the lack of quality competition or substantial wages has seen an exodus of top players to the richer climes of the French league, where the Welsh national coaches can have less of an influence on them.

5. It’s an alternative to your usual Saturday afternoon

I support a football team that is measured as the second most expensive match ticket in the country. That’s clearly not the case for all teams in the football league, but a rugby game in England – at pretty much all levels of the game – is certainly worth experiencing.

The atmosphere differs from football in that opposition supporters sit or stand amongst each other. This might draw strong feelings from those who enjoy the tribal nature of expressing your support in the direction of opposition players and fans – and while that level of hostility can still exist at the rugby, incidents are few and far between. The focus instead is on enjoying the fare on offer no matter who you’re supporting and enjoying plenty of drinks before, during and after the game.

It’s also significantly cheaper than following a Premier League team in London. The cheapest ticket at a Premiership home game at Saracens in North London is £25, whereas tickets at the next two leagues down could come in at around half of that. If I want to watch my football team play, it’ll cost me upwards of around £40 just for the ticket alone and all we’ll do is boo our team for not winning.

6. All Black everything

No matter what your allegiance is, it’s very hard not to admit that the New Zealand All Blacks are from another world of cool. Possibly the best and most dominant team in world sport, these guys know how to play and how to win.

Since their World Cup win on home soil in 2011, they have lost just twice. That’s just two losses in 42 games. Routinely playing the most threatening sides to them, after that solitary defeat to England at the end of 2012, they responded by winning every single match they played in 2013.

They have a terrifying aura about them and not just for the spine-tingling pre-match haka routine. No matter how deep the hole they find themselves in, their innate ability to win games is awe-inspiring. They have every single trick possible in their locker, be it a rolling maul shove from the forwards or a 90 m counter-attack score that begins on their own try-line. Every single player can run, pass, step, kick and generally bewilder the opposition.

They’re the team you want to beat the most, but if you’re not playing them, they’re the ones that you always want to win. Unless you’re an Australian, of course.

7. Jonny Wilkinson (and the next Jonny Wilkinson)

Rugby is much poorer for the recent retirement of Jonny Wilkinson, who will remain an absolute idol to supporters not just in England. Richly talented on the field and impossibly humble off it, Wilkinson was the poster boy for English rugby for such a long time that for the next few years, the sport may feel a little empty.

His World Cup winning heroics are still present in the sporting minds of the English public. Picked by England from an incredibly young age, Wilkinson is living proof for that hard work will always pay off. If he was slightly put off by the fame that came after 2003, the injuries that followed must have tortured him. A player that loved being on the field with a ball in his hands was forced to take a backseat. But he returned and played in two more World Cups, as well as enjoying a remarkable spell in the south of France with Toulon, where he won two Heineken Cups.

As for the next Jonny Wilkinson? Trying to match his achievements and reputation is probably unwise for the next generation of English players, but if we’re looking for a talisman, keep an eye on Sam Burgess, the rugby league superstar who recently switched to union with an eye playing for England in the World Cup.

Already a global legend in the other form of the sport, Burgess is said by almost all to represent the same character traits that helped Wilkinson up onto his pedestal. Plus he cried after winning the Australian title last year. And real men cry.

8. The Lions

Once every four years, a group of the best players from England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales cast aside national rivalry and come together as a squad to play either New Zealand, Australia or South Africa.

One of rugby’s richest traditions, the Lions are steeped in history and pulling on the red shirt remains the absolute pinnacle for a British player. For fans, it’s a unique opportunity to see players that normally would be pitting their talents against each other come together to take on the best of the best down under.

On the field, players can carve out a legendary reputation in pulling on the Lions jersey. In 1974, a tour to South Africa was so poorly officiated that captain Willie John McBride instigated a policy whereby if someone gave the coded call of ‘99,’ every Lion on the field would be required to join the melee and go for the nearest South African – the theory being that the referees could not send off every single player that took part in the scuffles.

Violence aside, there have been plenty of epic Lions moments on the field. Jeremy Guscott’s last minute drop goal to win the 1997 series, Brian O’Driscoll’s 50 m run in against the Wallabies in Brisbane in 2001 and, most recently, the victorious 2013 series in Australia.

You’ll have to wait until 2017 for the next series when the Lions go to New Zealand, where they haven’t won since 1971. History beckons.

Mark Tilley 

Phallic graffiti is one of history’s oldest art forms. From cave walls to school textbooks, crudely drawn penises have remained a proud symbol of male immaturity. The question of why is one for greater minds than myself to answer. But what I do know is that I am among those who gave in to the temptation of drawing nobs on public property at a time in my life when I was certainly old enough to know better.

It started in school, of course. On one occasion I remember an IT lesson. I had no interest in working on the spreadsheet that I had been given, so my attention quickly turned towards drawing a rather elaborate penis on MS Paint for the amusement of my sniggering friends.

Having heard them loudly congratulating me, the teacher marched over and discovered my handiwork still on the screen. Now, even in my days as an IT rebel, I don’t pretend that I was without empathy. My teacher (who we all suspected of alcoholism) had probably entered the profession as an idealistic young man, with a dream that he could make a difference to the world by educating the nation’s youth on the value of Powerpoint presentations. Yet there I was, defiling everything he believed in – zero work done, one boner drawn.

I was sent to see the deputy head with a printout in hand and asked a series of questions.

“Is this a suitable use of school resources?”

“Do you find this funny?”

“Is this what you want to so with your life?”

I did my best to show remorse, but the answer to all three questions was, of course, yes.

The deputy head was not impressed with how I had chosen to spend the past hour and suspected that my father would be equally unimpressed. After careful thought, he told me the punishment he had settled on: he was going to send a copy of the printout home.

I couldn’t believe my luck. The image of a disapproving receptionist enclosing my drawing inside an envelope and posting it to my unsuspecting father was priceless. I imagined his face as he noticed the school’s stamp on the envelope, perhaps expecting a report card or another school trip asking for “more damn money,” only to be confronted by a winking Johnson.

It took all of my self-control to stop a satisfied grin from creeping onto my face. I would have paid good money for someone to assist me with this kind of prank, and yet here was the school’s second-in-command telling me that he was doing exactly this.

***

A couple of years later, a friend and I decided to go big for that years’ April Fools’ Day. We hatched a plan while playing football at the local park, and returned that night armed with two spades. We set about digging a giant phallus about 6 ft long into the soft ground. This was the holy trinity: I’m talking balls, shaft and bellend.

We thought it was brilliant. The thought that our work might be visible from high in the air – perhaps by an old lady off on her spring holiday – had us in hysterics. Word got around the school and I was lauded as a legend by my peers. I’ve done it again, I thought – it doesn’t get much better than this.

***

A few days later, as I was walking home from a kick-about, I spotted two police officers getting out of a car near my house. “Wouldn’t it be funny if they went into your house,” one of my friends joked.

Well, it wasn’t actually that funny, when I saw them turn into my driveway.

I decided to lay low for the rest of the evening and came home a few hours later. My father wasted no time informing me of the police’s visit and I did my best to pretend that I was shocked.

I denied everything to the ground, but I soon found out that my accomplice had blown a planet-sized hole in my plan by caving in to the police’s questions and spilling the beans on our stunt.

I thought I still had a chance to escape, and looked at my father with an astonished, innocent face. ”Why would he say that?” I asked.

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Things got worse. Incredibly, my father believed my barefaced lies and leapt straight to my defence. ”We can’t let him make accusations about you to the police,” he barked, as he picked up the phone and started dialling the number of my loose-lipped accomplice.

I desperately tried to reason with him. ”We don’t need to do that,” I said nervously.

“Well, he told the police you did it. We have to find out why,” my father insisted.

I started to sweat as I heard the phone ringing through the receiver for what felt like an eternity. What the fuck do I do now?

My friend’s mother answered the phone and just as my dad began to speak, I caved in. “Dad, I did it,” I said, staring at the ground and unable to look him in the eye. My chickens had come home to roost.

***

A few weeks later my father drove a 40 mile round trip so I could be cautioned for criminal damage. He complained the whole way that they were actually punishing him and not me as he was the one who had to drive.

At the police station a policewoman reminded me of my actions, sternly reading out the details of my offence. When she got to the part about “digging a phallus,” I began to snigger, causing her to snap. “Is there something funny?” she asked.

Err…

“Is this appropriate use of school playing fields?”

“Do you understand the serious nature of your crime?”

Oh, boy…

As we drove home, my father gave me a life lesson. “Gilbert, we all do stupid things, but when you get caught you have to act sorry and take it,” he said.

He tried to level with me by telling a story of how he once left a pornographic magazine in his school library. It wasn’t the most original stunt, but to this day it still makes me smile to think that generation-by-generation, there are adolescent Grundys pissing off the powers that be with a simple misplaced phallus.

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Incidentally, my father didn’t find it so funny when some friends of mine hid a porn mag in the fridge. He went ape-shit and chucked them out of the house, but I suppose we all eventually grow up to be hypocrites in one form or another.

As I think about my father being reprimanded by a school librarian all those years ago, I wonder what questions he must have been asked.

“Do you think this is funny?”

“Is this a responsible use of the library?”

“Is this what you want to do with your life?”

I like to think I know what the answers would have been.

Gilbert Grundy

Wales fail to live up to their own hype

The pre-match talk ahead of England’s trip to Cardiff was dominated by the Welsh. They named their team two days ahead of schedule, questioned the legality of England’s attacking tactics and complained about their opposition’s request to keep the Millennium Stadium roof open.

But save for an opening period in which Wales took a 10-0 lead, that was where their dominance and bravado came to an end. England, written off by so many, confounded expectations to not only win the match but control it as well. A makeshift back-line that was supposedly out of its depth against their opposite numbers created plenty of chances, the forwards dominated at the set-piece and the breakdown, and George Ford, in only his third start, looked to the manner born at fly-half.

The traditional notion is that Wales are the spirited underdogs, desperate to cut the arrogant English down to size. But might it be that the hubris comes predominantly from the west side of the Severn Bridge these days? Countless newspaper articles had so confidently labelled Wales as the better team going into the fixture and barely a moment’s thought was given to an English win.

The result gives England priceless momentum as they kick off World Cup year. For the Welsh, there are plenty of questions. Time to do some talking with the ball rather than with their mouths.

Ireland labour, but are still on the right path

Taking on Italy in Rome was probably the ideal test for the reigning champions as Joe Schmidt’s side aimed to avenge their 2013 defeat in the Eternal City.

There was nothing really to write home about on the game for the neutral as the Irish attack ran into a solid Italian defensive wall time and time again for the majority of the match. Ian Keatley’s (pictured above) accurate boot established an Irish lead that was rarely in danger of disappearing, even though the wait for a try was over an hour.

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After the retirement of the great Brian O’Driscoll, much attention was and will continue to be on the centre pairing of Robbie Henshaw and Jared Payne. It was a mixed performance from both as Ireland struggled with their fluency in attack, with most of the limited spark with ball in hand coming from scrum half Conor Murray.

Murray cemented his burgeoning global reputation with a well taken second half try and Ireland eventually ran away with a 3-26 win as the rain cascaded down in Rome. But the holders will be aware that a drastic improvement will be required if they are to secure a second successive title. The likely return of Jonny Sexton next weekend will be a welcome boost.

Scotland blow major chance of Paris upset

A promising autumn campaign for the Scots created renewed optimism ahead of the year’s Six Nations, with many an esteemed pundit suggesting they had a genuine chance of victory against the French in Paris on opening weekend.

Philippe Saint-Andre’s French team are notoriously unpredictable to the point of comedy – their own autumn campaign saw them blast aside Fiji and then Australia before ruining their entire campaign with a desperately poor defeat to Argentina. The feeling was that if Scotland could bring their A game and catch the French cold, then anything was possible.

Les Bleus (they actually played in their red alternative jersey, which was an odd sight for a French side) were certainly off colour, turning in a disfigured and listless performance. But Vern Cotter’s Scotland couldn’t capitalise on their indecision and slumped to a 15-8 loss.

The rhetoric from the media may be one of ‘brave’ Scotland falling just short once again, but this was a golden opportunity to end a 16-year wait for a win in Paris that was squandered. Fly half Finn Russell showed up well and injected a spark into the Scottish attack that has been missing for years but the majority of the rest of the side failed to keep up with him, repeatedly offering French kicker Camille Lopez kickable penalty opportunities.

Dougie Fife’s try in the corner (the only one of the game) was a perfectly worked attacking play but there wasn’t enough to back it up and France, as dour as their performance was, were able to kick themselves to an opening day win. Neither side should be especially. satisfied with the outcome.

Player of the weekend: Chris Robshaw (England)

England were the team of the weekend and their win in Wales was littered with standout performances but the captain Chris Robshaw pictured) deserves the absolute highest praise. He made a monumental 26 tackles in the game, missing not a single one, and was simply immense at the breakdown.

He led his team with purpose and bloody-minded determination, typified by his Martin Johnson-esque refusal to take his side onto the field before the game and wait around for minutes before the Welsh joined them.

There can be few remaining critics of Robshaw and his place as captain after this comprehensive burying of the demons of 2013 and that 30-3 defeat. Special mention also to fellow back row James Haskell, who was absolutely outstanding but misses out here thanks to his running into the post when a try looked certain. Head down and dive for the line next time, James.

Mark Tilley

Amid the flurry of stirring, teary epics and biopics that populate the Oscars 2015 – Best Picture nominees, two films have snuck in to the category at the final furlong to upset what seemed to be an inevitable victory either for ‘Boyhood’ or something starring a British actor.

These two rank outsiders have come in the form of ‘Birdman or (the Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)’ and ‘Whiplash.’ Both were released this year, only a month or so before the awards, and either could steal this most coveted Oscar away from the favourites on 22 February.

‘Birdman’ must be one of the most unusual films to have appeared on the list in some time. Alejandro Innaritu’s black comedy focuses on Riggan Thompson (Michael Keaton), a washed-up movie star (pictured above) whose role as the blockbuster superhero ‘Birdman’ brought him fame during the 1990s. In an effort to reinvent himself and his failing career, he attempts to write, direct and perform in a high-brow Broadway play.

Thompson’s quest for critical and artistic recognition is hindered by his popular image as an action hero, in both a personal and public sense. The part that brought him success has not only prevented him from penetrating New York’s snobbish cultural elite, but has also become the internal embodiment of his own self-doubt. His former character appears as a voice inside his head that taunts his lofty aspirations when the pressure gets to him.

Critics have obsessed over the parallels between ‘Birdman’ and Keaton’s own career. Keaton played Batman in Tim Burton’s versions of the Marvel franchise, so it’s hardly a surprise that this has been discussed. But frankly, this is the least interesting thing about the movie.

It’s a success in its own right on a number of levels. The performances are superb – Keaton’s role is career-defining, but Ed Norton is also hilarious as the intense, unpredictable and impotent Broadway stalwart Mike Shiner.

Innaritu’s directing is also bold – his technique of making the film look like one continuous take gives it a frenetic, nervous energy that complements the cracking of the fragile façade Thompson spends most of the movie trying to maintain.

What is most striking about this film, though – despite all its ambition and eccentricity – is just how relatable and universal it is. At its heart, this is essentially the story of quite an ordinary middle-aged man in the throes of a mid-life crisis.

Despite the obscure premise and surreal backdrop, Thompson’s problems are general middle-aged ones. He has a difficult relationship with his daughter, Sam (Emma Stone – also excellent), and is frustrated with the direction is career has taken. Life, in short, has not turned out as he it should have, and he is left with the desperate realisation that his time to achieve is running out.

He takes on his attempt at reinvention with the kind of short-tempered, headstrong vigour that only middle-aged men can muster. This is where a lot of the comedy stems from: Riggan Thompson may be a globally recognised superstar with ludicrously grandiose ambitions, but underneath, he’s just your dad trying to prove he can put up shelves.

It’s no wonder that he cracks under the pressure of such a monumental task. No matter who we are, the film seems to suggest, we are all victims of our own self-doubt, always running from failure, and always living in the shadows of our past.

But the film’s central message is that this is not something to be ashamed of. There has not been a more touching and sympathetic portrayal of that most unsung of heroes – the relatively untalented, balding middle-aged male in a long time. That Inarritu has managed to disguise this in such an original and surreal story is the film’s real achievement.

***

By contrast, that sense of relatability is what is lacking from Damien Chazelle’s ‘Whiplash’.

This film tells the story of Andrew Neiman, a drumming prodigy obsessed with becoming the next jazz legend. He attends the prestigious Shaffer Conservatory music school, where he falls under the tutelage of the terrifying Terence Fletcher – a bald, sadistic bully resembling a cross between Michael Stipe and Simon Cowell. However, where ‘Birdman’s’ characters, although dysfunctional, are ultimately sympathetic, the protagonists of ‘Whiplash’ are all profoundly unlikeable.

Fletcher is of course supposed to be intimidating, rationalising his aggressive approach as a motivational tactic to force his students to fulfil their potential. But he is such a cruel, vindictive sociopath, who clearly enjoys the trauma he inflicts on his students, that these justifications always fall short in the context of his behaviour.

Given that he is so frequently on the receiving end of Fletcher’s tirades, it should be easy to empathise with Andrew Neiman – but he is equally unlikeable. A typically awkward, fat-lipped American teenage nerd, he is predictably friendless and socially uncomfortable, finding solace only in drumming and obscure jazz music.

It’s almost impossible to identify with someone as blinkered and irritating as Neiman. At one point, he dumps his girlfriend because she might somehow distract him from his true calling of becoming an underappreciated jazz genius.

At another, after Neiman shuns the achievements of his family members (whose college football accolades are praised more highly than his musical ones) during a dinnertime conversation, he is abruptly put in his place by his uncle, who asks: “You got any friends, Andrew?” To be honest, it’s easy to see why his answer is no.

This would all be very well if we weren’t clearly supposed to be on Neiman’s – and, to a certain extent, Fletcher’s – side. The film demands that we root for Neiman and his quest, that we admire him for the sacrifices he makes to achieve greatness. It also seeks to portray Fletcher as a kind of brutal genius – a Brian Clough or Alex Ferguson figure who may be tough, but who gets results, goddamn it.

The problem is that this just doesn’t really work. ‘Whiplash’ is a kind of redemption story that lacks any characters worth redeeming, making that typically American theme of chasing success at all costs just come across as narrow and vain.

The film seems to want to do for jazz what ‘Rocky’ did for boxing, but it actually does for music schools what ‘Full Metal Jacket’ did for military academies. The world of ‘Whiplash’ is not a place where jazz soldiers are born – it’s just hostile, ruthless and very, very noisy.

***

It will be interesting to see how these two films fare in the Oscars. ‘Birdman’ has received nominations in various categories, and its recent success at the Producer’s Guild of America awards suggest that it could be a serious contender for the crown.

‘Whiplash’, however, fared far better at the BAFTAs (not that that means anything). If the panel award the Best Picture Oscar to ‘Birdman’ this year, they will have chosen a highly original and deserving film for the award. ‘Whiplash,’ unfortunately, just doesn’t make the grade.

 Connor Pierce

Joseph becomes England’s new talisman

They may have scored just shy of 50 points but England’s win over Italy highlighted a couple of defensive frailties which will need addressing before they head across the Irish Sea to Dublin in a fortnight.

Save for the three tries conceded – all of which could and should have been prevented with more committed tackling – England provided a fair amount of warmth on a cold February afternoon and they may just have found their 2015 talisman in the form of Jonathan Joseph.

The Bath centre backed up his try-scoring display against Wales last week with another fine performance, showcasing his vision, guile and pace to scorch over the try-line twice. The Italian defence might not have been the strongest but Joseph’s tries were a testament to the ability of a player who has long since been hyped as a Jeremy Guscott-type international midfielder.

Last year, England often turned to full back Mike Brown to provide the inspirational attacking spark that seemed to lift the entire side. This year, it seems as if Joseph has taken on that mantle. Ireland awaits.

Sexton helps set up a Dublin classic against England

Ireland repeated their success over the French from last year with a Jonny Sexton-inspired 18-11 win, but again, it was not a vintage Irish performance.

Much was made of Sexton’s return to the side from injury and supposed French plans to send the 120 kg Mathieu Bastareaud down his channel as often as possible. Sexton has few, if any, challengers as the premier fly half in the northern hemisphere and it showed as he steered his side around the park and kicked five from five from the tee.

It was something of a turgid game with neither side really putting together much by way of attacking cohesion. French infringements cost them dearly as Sexton kept slotting the penalty opportunities handed to him and the Irish lead wasn’t threatened until, finally, the French strung together a couple to passes to send Romain Taofifenua in on the left.

Camille Lopez was unable to match Sexton’s accuracy from the kicking tee and, despite a spirited French comeback attempt in the closing minutes, Ireland were worth their victory.

There will be further concerns over Sexton’s fitness, having taken a fearsome head-to-head blow from Bastareaud, but his return to the side has helped set up a potentially Championship deciding clash against England in Dublin in two weeks time. Bring it on.

Wales ride luck to get campaign back on track

Scotland once again blew a major chance to demonstrate that their alleged resurgence actually has some substance to it as they went down to a 23-26 home defeat to Wales.

It was an extremely committed performance from a Welsh side no doubt very eager to right the wrongs of their opening round defeat but it was not a flawless game from Warren Gatland’s men and Scotland had plenty of opportunities to cause them more problems that they failed to take.

Greig Laidlaw and Stuart Hogg were excellent attacking threats throughout, but basic errors in their game let them down – missing kicks to touch when gifted penalties, launching the ball out of the full when there were numbers out wide and perhaps the biggest mistake of all: choosing to indulge in a try-line punch-up rather than quickly convert the last minute try and get the game going again.

Wales just about shaded the win and were also extremely fortunate to be on the receiving end of some very questionable decisions from referee Glen Jackson. But their campaign is back on track. For the Scots, more is needed to prove they’re on their way back.

Player of the weekend: Jonny Sexton

Tough to pick out too many individuals this weekend and despite Jonathan Joseph’s try-scoring heroics for England, the context of the opposition means that Jonny Sexton’s near flawless return to the Irish side was probably the standout performance.

Five penalties from five attempts and some wonderful kicking out of hand showed that the Irish fly half hadn’t lost his touch despite a twelve week absence from the game and his return inspired Ireland into a performance that just kept their noses in front of France.

His development as a world class number 10 over the past few years looks to be complete and he is now able to run the show under his former Leinster coach Joe Schmidt. His attacking arsenal is full of tricks, though consistent goal-kicking is probably the one element of his game that could be improved upon – his 100% return in Dublin is proof that he’s well on his way.

His dual with England’s George Ford will be just one of the fascinating subplots of the Ireland v England cracker in two weeks time.

Mark Tilley

1. ‘Better Call Saul’ could be the greatest spin-off ever

The first thing you realise about ‘Better Call Saul’ is just how much you’ve missed ‘Breaking Bad.’ That isn’t supposed to be derogatory. ‘Better Call Saul’ just has the same feel: slow, mysterious introductory scenes that have no immediate bearing on the context of the rest of the program; convoluted plot-lines that couldn’t be written successfully by anyone other than Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould; and, of course, those incredible endings that leave you punching your screen in frustration as you have to wait a whole week for the next episode.

All this, set against the searing heat and slightly surreal Arizonan desert backdrop of Albuquerque, and we’re back in familiar territory. It’s only three shows in, but anyone up on ‘Better Call Saul’ is already totally addicted.

It’s 2002, back when slippery Saul Goodman was plain old James McGill. To describe him as a ‘struggling lawyer’ is an understatement. His office, which doubles up as his bedsit, is the backroom of a Thai nail salon. He spends his days defending hopeless cases for a pittance in the public courts, bargaining sentences with opposing attorneys in toilets and being bullied by a car park attendant (‘Breaking Bad’s’ surly Mike Ehrmantraut).

At this stage of the series, Goodman is still trying to at least appear just about ethical (although he is not above pulling scams with the intention of representing the victims). Of course, it’s only a matter of time before he is dragged into ever more murky waters, and watching the series of events that leads to him becoming the ultimate shyster of ‘Breaking Bad’ looks like it’ll be a real treat. This could turn out to be the best spin-off of all time.

2. Drake gets sulky on surprise mixtape

Surprise album drops might have lost some their impact since Beyoncé decided to do away with promotional tours, social media campaigns and Graham Norton’s sofa, and simply upload her 2013 self-titled album onto iTunes, but Drake’s new ‘mixtape’ – released without any prior warning – was still enough to send citizens of the internet into a frenzy.

The Canadian rapper might insist on calling it a mixtape but at 16-songs long, ‘If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late’ has the length, the flow and perhaps most tellingly, the price tag of a conventional album. But with ‘Views From The 6’ – his next official full-length – slated for release later in the year, perhaps we should think of Drake’s latest offering as a prelude for what’s to come.

Drake has never sounded like an artist with much interest in what’s going on in the charts or the clubs, and IYRTITL sees him retreating even further into himself; it’s moodier, darker and starker than anything he’s done before, his rapping-to-singing ratio is higher than ever and it feels like there are acres of space between each beat. You’ll find no singles here, just sombre slow jams and carefully worded barbs for those that have found themselves in his bad books.

3. Adam Curtis delivers in ‘Bitter Lake’

Adam Curtis’ 2.5 hour epic ‘Bitter Lake’ reached the end of its tenancy on BBC iPlayer this week. Through the context of Afghanistan and its troubled history, ‘Bitter Lake’ aimed to show how the global political forces of the West gradually surrendered power to other entities, particularly the financial markets.

The documentary’s digital home freed Curtis from the time constraints usually imposed on him by TV schedules, allowing him to run riot with his trademark use of extensive archive footage. Unfortunately, this was to the detriment of the overall narrative. Although the rambling films of Afghanistan throughout its history were beautiful, telling their own individual stories, this was conceptually ambitious stuff even by Curtis’ standards.

Having periods of up to 10 minutes of historical footage with no narration whatsoever made it difficult to hold such a complex idea together, and had the effect of making the film’s conclusion, which was all tied together in the space of about 15 minutes, feel rushed in comparison. Still, ‘Bitter Lake’ was superb. Regardless of the perspective his films take (of which ‘leftist’ is a complete over-simplification), he is one of television’s true auteurs, and one of the few filmmakers willing to even attempt to make such intellectually challenging work.

What we really learn from ‘Bitter Lake’ – and from Curtis in general – is that the world, and the political and historical forces that influence it, are messy and complicated. Curtis’ arguments are often obscure, and sometimes lack substance. But his ability to force us to confront this difficult reality in such a stylish and engaging way is what really makes him important.

4. Run For Cover Records continues winning streak

The first couple of months in the year aren’t usually the best for new music, but Boston’s Run For Cover Records have been bucking the trend with promising debut albums from two young bands who are doing their best to reinvent classic American indie rock for a new generation.

Last month we were treated to the heady, almost psychedelic sounds of Cloakroom’s ‘Further Out’ and only last week, the label dropped ‘Supersonic Home’ from the frighteningly young Adventures, whose front woman and rhythm section moonlight in the crushingly heavy Code Orange.

It’s difficult to listen to Cloakroom’s rumbling, downbeat jams and singer Doyle Martin’s mumbled vocals without thinking of Nirvana, but there’s also a dose of British shoegaze in there somewhere. While not exactly glass half-full types themselves, Adventures are a much brighter prospect, marrying fizzing pop hooks with introspective indie rock to make an album much more enjoyable than the eyesore-inducing artwork would lead you to believe.

5. Lucy Beale’s killer revealed in ‘EastEnders’

Presumably, you didn’t watch the live episodes of ‘EastEnders?’ Well, neither did we, but it turns out that some fucking kid did it.

Have British soap writers become so lazy that they now just steal plot lines from ‘The Simpsons?’ It’s outrageous, but we probably shouldn’t be surprised.

Connor Pierce & Alex Andrews

Italy stun Scots with last minute comeback

Up until the 80th minute of this game, the talking point was how Italy’s lack of a reliable kicker will consistently stop them from achieving anything close to success.

But then in the final moments, after minutes of Italian pressure on the Scottish line, referee George Clancy penalised the home side for collapsing a ruck, awarded the penalty try and Italy had snuck home in the tightest of circumstances.

Scotland had admirably withstood wave after wave of pressure from the Italians and will have been utterly devastated to lose. Neither side was especially better than the other, but Scotland led for almost the entire match – only to abandon the confident, daring style of play that served them well in the first half.

Individual errors started to creep in for the home side and the Italians, whose unyielding spirit can never be called into question, inched their way forwards. Fly-halves Kelly Haimona and Tommaso Allan both missed chances from the kicking tee and, as the rain began to teem down in Edinburgh, it became apparent that the Azzurri would have to score from a set piece.

It took them a while and when the Scots turned over a fourth successive scrum on their own line, it looked like the chance had gone. But Peter Horne’s clearance kick failed to go into touch, Italy regained possession and a minute later they had won. Such are the fine margins between victory and defeat.

Missed kicks and imprecise attack cost France dear

This was not an entertaining game. Gone are the France of old, the flair-driven side who could thrill from 0 to 80 or collapse theatrically but still leave you thoroughly entertained either way. Credit is due for their win, but Wales’ tactic of sending the behemoth Jamie Roberts – or any of their other gargantuan-sized soldiers – into contact time and time again does not make for watchable rugby.

The Welsh were just about good enough value for their 13-20 win with the difference between the sides coming in the form of the irrepressible     and, once again, another near flawless kicking performance from the Lion from Gorseinon.

Chances were at a premium for both sides. Any inroads Wales made into the French 22 ended with one too many surges into contact (and not space) and a subsequent spillage of the ball, or a French indiscretion which Halfpenny was more than happy to punish with a perfect kick between the posts.

France had their moments in attack. Yoann Huget capped a wonderful move in the first half only for the try to be ruled out for Camile Lopez’s forward pass, and there was a period early in the second half where they married slick handling with smart offloading and looked to be clicking into gear.

But it failed to last and Wales slowly took control. Dan Biggar latched onto Dan Lydiate’s superb pass to score in the corner, Halfpenny continued his golden form with the boot and though Brice Dulin’s try brought the Parisian crowd to life and the home side back into the game, it was a succession of missed kicks from both Lopez and Morgan Parra that ultimately cost the French.

Irish eyes are smiling as England get their tactics wrong

England will be disappointed with their performance in Dublin, as Ireland won the battle in the air to stay on course for a Grand Slam. They face two difficult away trips but a win at the Millennium Stadium next weekend will surely make them odds on favourites to get the job done in Edinburgh a week later.

For their part, it’s another opportunity spurned by England, though the title isn’t yet beyond them – a Welsh win in Cardiff in round four would blow the competition wide open. In Dublin, they got their kicking game completely wrong, sending the ball high into the air but failing to exert any chasing pressure on the Irish back three.

Their discipline let them down far too often as they gave away too many kickable penalties to Jonny Sexton but in the second half, with Sexton off, they had a chance at coming back into the game and looked threatening when the likes of Jack Nowell and Anthony Watson ran with the ball in hand. But too often the high kicks of George Ford, Ben Youngs and Alex Goode were either sent too long or weren’t chased effectively.

Sexton and Conor Murray’s used their own high ball tactic to send accurate, probing kicks into the air for the men in green, forcing Goode in particular to struggle underneath – crucially so for the match-winning try from Robbie Henshaw.

In truth, the defeat isn’t fatal for England, who have a decent chance of regrouping and winning their final two games. But for Ireland it’s a marvellous victory – their tenth in a row – and sets them up superbly for a shot at both the Grand Slam and the World Cup in the autumn.

Player of the weekend: Sergio Parisse

Italy’s Sergio Parisse could play for the All Blacks and that’s not an exaggeration. For years and years, the Italian number eight has ploughed a lone furrow, turning in displays of consistent excellence in a faltering side.

So any victory for the Azzurri must be cherished and Parisse was simply magnificent in marshalling his side to a dramatic win in the Edinburgh rain. At times he operates on a different plane of understanding to his teammates – as demonstrated by his sublime no-look back-of-the-hand pass to Leonardo Ghiraldini, which was subsequently dropped.

But in increasingly appalling conditions at Murrayfield, Parisse galvanised his team, led the charge into contact and it was he who was waiting at the back of that ruck with the ball in his hand as Italy surged for the line and were rewarded with the penalty try.

It can be tough watching him in an Italy shirt at times – the grimaces and the disappointed looks after every try conceded and game lost. But this was truly a day to savour for Italian rugby and for their magnificent captain. All hail Sergio.

Mark Tilley

Ireland’s Grand Slam dreams are over as Wales set up classic final weekend

After all the talk in last fortnight about the poor standard of rugby on display in this year’s Six Nations, we were treated to an absorbing thriller in Cardiff as Wales ended Ireland’s Grand Slam hopes. Leigh Halfpenny scored the bulk of the points from the kicking tee but this was a win built on phenomenal Welsh defence as they repelled almost everything their Celtic cousins threw at them.

This column has been fairly critical of Wales so far in this tournament but they were worthy winners on Saturday, countering the Irish half back threat of Jonny Sexton and Conor Murray. Halfpenny – one of, if not the finest goal kicker in world rugby – punished repeated indiscretions and fired his side into an early 12 point lead. Sexton wasn’t as on the money as his counterpart but brought his side to within striking distance and the first half was very much an even contest.

But when Ireland came out like a freight train in the second half, it took every ounce of strength and defensive organisation for Wales to keep them out. The men in green went through a mammoth number of phases as they camped out in the Welsh 22 but they lacked the precision or the rub of the green to pick the lock. And when Wales finally secured the key turnover, the deafening roar at the Millennium Stadium seemed appropriate.

Minutes later, they were down the other end of the field and Scott Williams’ try looked to be a game-decider. It would turn out to be but not after Ireland secured a penalty try and had another spell of intense pressure on the Welsh line. But the red wall, led magnificently by skipper Sam Warburton, held firm and now both sides will have a shot at the title going into the final weekend. The Welsh dragon is breathing fire again.

England need to add composure to be a champion team

There were times during England’s win over Scotland – a win that puts them in with a superb chance of winning the Six Nations title – where their rugby was a joy to watch. And then there were times when it felt pointless watching as they nailed all their approach work only to spurn the tries on offer.

They let a lot of chances go begging against Scotland. It’s an old adage but champion teams take the points when they’re on offer and the nagging feeling with this England side is that they still suffer from a lack of composure under pressure. They’re an extremely likeable team and at times the build-up work is sublime but until they learn to be 100% clinical, it’s going to be hard to bracket them with the All Blacks amongst the best in the world.

This year’s Six Nations title will likely come down to points difference and there remains the feeling that England left a lot of them out on the field on Saturday. Luther Burrell’s decision not to pass to the onrushing Anthony Watson when clear in the opening moments of the game was simply inexplicable. Did he honestly think he could beat his man? Or was he not comfortable finding his man with what would have a slightly longer pass?

Watson and Mike Brown would go on to have a try each both ruled out for forward passes as England threatened to completely run away with it but were forced to make do with a late Jack Nowell score to make the game safe.

Yet, it feels churlish to be this negative in the wake of a victory, especially one that puts England top of the table. Glance through the English papers and the overriding tone is of disappointment, with Sir Clive Woodward leading the charge with his familiar ‘back in my day’ rhetoric. There was even a hilariously outdated argument piece in ‘The Telegraph’ about England hadn’t shown Scotland enough respect.

If Ireland or Wales were in the exact situation, their media would be talking up their chances and throwing in a bit of nationalistic enthusiasm – and quite rightly so. It’s all well and good the English press expecting a lot from their national team but sometimes their criticism can seem overly harsh.

But when all is said and done, a first Six Nations title since 2011 is within England’s grasp next weekend. Can they finally build on three successive near-misses?

Italy and France offer precious little in Rome downpour

France got their second win of the tournament against a desperately poor Italy but there was little or nothing to report from this non-event of a game.

The rain poured down in Rome to make for extremely difficult conditions and it showed throughout the game as both sides committed a litany of handling errors. Every time an attacking move looked to be developing, someone would knock on and we’d be back for another scrum.

France took a while to get going but, to their credit, they ended up with a hugely convincing win, scoring two second half tries and ending with a 0-29 victory – perhaps unbelievably, they are still in with a mathematical chance of winning the title but it will take a catastrophic series of events for England, Wales and Ireland for that to happen.

The game was perhaps turned on the introduction at half time of French fly half Jules Plisson, who added just an extra degree of control and managed to immediately find his range from the kicking tee – something that the game’s other kickers had failed utterly miserably to do.

Italy were so poor it’s almost hard to put into words, which beggars belief after their resilience in Edinburgh two weeks ago. They host Wales on the final weekend and, with Scotland hosting Ireland, the Wooden Spoon should still be heading to the Scots but it certainly feels like one step forward and another two back.

Player of the weekend: Sam Warburton

Wales’ captain produced yet another superhuman performance in Cardiff on the occasion of him becoming the Welsh skipper for the most number of games. When Warburton plays well, so do Wales and didn’t they both go well as they derailed the Irish juggernaut.

Warburton’s pedigree in the global game is without question – a Wales legend, a British and Irish Lions captain and one of the finest openside flankers in the world. His influence on this Wales team is huge and talk a year or so ago of his place in the side under threat from Justin Tipuric seems almost absurd now.

Against Ireland, he was phenomenal. He was sin-binned in the first half but it didn’t cost his team as they only conceded six points in that period – when he returned, he more than made up for his absence. Leading the Welsh defence to a whopping 289 tackles in the match, he was pivotal in keeping Ireland out during their 32-phase assault in the second half.

“I was on the floor, I heard the whistle being blown, saw Wayne Barnes’s arm raised on our side and I just punched the ground,” he said after the game and his celebrations at the whistle showed just how much the result meant to him. “It was one of the best feelings I’ve had in a Wales shirt.”

Warburton has dragged his side back into Six Nations contention after a potentially devastating opening defeat. If they’re too match their 2013 success and win the title after a first round defeat, you can bet that he will have a colossal role to play.

Mark Tilley

Wales end tournament on a high

On an immensely compelling day of international rugby, it was perhaps naïve to assume Wales’ monster win in Rome in the first game of the day would be enough to secure them the Six Nations title. That they set Ireland and England a steep points target is to their credit but Jonathan Davies’ assertion on the BBC that the Welsh were in the box seat now seems a bit foolish given what was to happen.

All that aside, Wales delivered a brutal second half performance against an admittedly weak Italian side to briefly raise hopes of a title win and ensure that they end on a high. Their first half was desperately lacklustre as they committed handling errors and handed the Italians points.

But they roared into contention in the second period and at the centre of their resurgence was winger George North. Without a try all tournament and under pressure in certain circles for his place, he delivered a brilliant hat-trick which showcased his pace, his power and his outstanding finishing ability.

Wales racked up 61 points in total against the hapless Italians but switched off momentarily at the end and conceded a score to Leonardo Sarto, which would prove to be the creaking open of the door which Ireland and England so desperately needed ahead of their own games.

No title for Wales and still a few question marks but they’re in a relatively healthy place going into the World Cup in September.

Ireland deliver Championship winning performance in Edinburgh

Wales’ efforts in Rome meant that Ireland needed both a 21-point win over Scotland at Murrayfield and to set a points target that would prove unreachable for England in the day’s final game. Led by their incomparable captain Paul O’Connell, they managed both.

A lighting quick start was perhaps the ideal marker to lay down and they did exactly that with O’Connell himself burrowing over from close range after a Robbie Henshaw break had carried Ireland downfield. Their supposed lack of attacking ambition in the tournament so far was put up as the main reason why they would not succeed but they had demonstrated a desire to run with ball in hand early on.

They continued to build on their lead throughout the first half and looked in control against a Scotland side beaten up by four previous defeats and lacking in any real spark or imagination. Finn Russell, one of their few bright spots in a dire tournament, crossed for well-worked try but Ireland re-assumed control in the second period.

With the points deficit to Wales all but made up, Johnny Sexton suffered an attack of nerves from the kicking tee, missing two straightforward chances, but he eventually landed the kick to take them in front at the top of the table. Sean O’Brien’s late try, his second of the game, made things secure for them.

It could have all been so different for Ireland and indeed England had Stuart Hogg not fluffed a scoring chance for Scotland towards the end. Instead, his ‘try’ was ruled out and Ireland number 8 Jamie Heaslip had made the tackle which would eventually win the title for his side. Joe Schmidt’s side are champions for the second year running.

England fall agonisingly short yet again in Twickenham thriller

After two games and 131 points, there was still a third game on Super Saturday for rugby fans to savour. And it turned out to be the most thrilling, high-scoring clash of the lot. England and France scored 12 tries and 90 points between them in a jaw-droppingly open game but Stuart Lancaster’s side fell just six shy of the points difference needed to overhaul Ireland. By such fine margins are these things decided.

It was a breathless game to watch – surely one of the finest in Six Nations history. England needed to match their fluidity from last week’s game against Scotland but this time they needed to take every single chance. And they got the perfect start through a brilliant counter-attacking try finished off by Ben Youngs.

They switched off afterwards and France surged into the ascendancy – and the lead. England’s defence, not for the first time in the last seven weeks, was left wanting as the French sauntered over the line twice down the host’s right flank. But Youngs and George Ford established the correct tempo by which they needed to play and at half-time England had established a 27-15 lead, needing to win by 26 points to take out the title.

The second half was an astonishing, end-to-end try-fest and every time England scored to edge closer to their target, they conceded. James Haskell committed a barely forgivable trip to earn himself ten minutes in the sin bin and though England kept plugging away with tries from big Billy Vunipola and Jack Nowell, their flimsy defence ultimately cost them.

Nowell’s second try, five minutes from time, gave them a chance with just six points needed. But despite a kick to the corner and a lineout drive, they were unable to get over the line again and they fell desperately short – the fourth time in succession they have finished in second place.

The disappointment will take precedence for now, and rightly so, but, like Wales, they are in reasonably good shape for the World Cup and will have home advantage – which if Saturday’s Twickenham atmosphere is anything to by will be massive.

Player of the weekend: Sean O’Brien

It seems fitting that this should go to a player from the winning team, though George North and Ben Youngs both have equal claim. But it’s the magnificent openside from Dublin who was the driving force behind his side’s magnificent win and O’Brien deserves plenty of plaudits after only recently returning to the side from a lengthy injury.

The two tries he scored are the most eye-catching element of his performance but he was every around the park, making himself a constant nuisance at the breakdown and carrying strongly when required to.

In an era of superb openside flankers across the world, O’Brien is right up there amongst the best with Warburton, Australia’s David Pocock and the master from New Zealand, Richie McCaw. He adds to what is an incredibly powerful and settled back row combination for Ireland, with Jamie Heaslip adding his years of experience and Peter O’Mahony his ferocious tackling power.

O’Brien missed the first game of the tournament through injury and was taken off against England in round three and it’s little wonder his body is so fragile with the way he commits himself physically in every match. His return to the side enables Ireland to have a ball-winning presence at the breakdown and he’ll play a key role for them, as well as the British and Irish Lions, for many years to come.

Mark Tilley