Dean Saunders “Open” To Molineux Return 

The sacking of Walter Zenga, our second foreign manager in history, bought around some interesting, and distressing, parallels to a tumultuous period in Wolves’ history. 

In 2012, our first international chief, Stale Solbakken, was hailed as the bright new beginning to a fresh and cultured Wolves. By Christmas, the team’s foreign fledglings were foundling (and injured, mostly) and the Molineux hierarchy acted quickly to remove the volatile Scandanavian from his post. 

Four years later, Zenga has experienced a similar, but much more rash, fate. Wolves lie 18th, similar to where they rested when Solbakken was solsakken, and the bulging, multicultural squad is yet to sufficiently quick. Last time, Wolves went for the traditional English methods by roping in Dean Saunders. Four years later, are they going to repeat the same fate? The odds say yes. 

“I’m open to returning,” said Saunders today, fresh from paying his parking fine. “I have unfinished business at Wolves and felt I wasn’t given a fair chance before. I haven’t received a call yet but I’ve thrown my hat in the ring. You can lose your hat, but once you lose the ring that’s when it’s time to give up.”

But Dean, will you be able to work alongside Wolves’ stringent new Asian structure? “If we were watching Japanese acrobats and they needed someone to leap from a chair, I’d be straight onto the stage with my gear on,” Saunders said. “I might not have the same skills, but I’d give it a go. Same here.”

If he’s fortunate to get the job, Saunders says this time they’ll escape relegation, despite Saunders being relegated a staggering eight times in six seasons. “Ladbrokes have us to finish mid-table, and they’re usually decent,” Saunders winked. “54 points was enough to ensure survival last season, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.”


Parents Disown Son After Coming Out As ‘Pop Punk’


We live in a liberal, understanding world, but sometimes we’re still thrown back into the dark ages. One glance at the newspapers and it’s easy to forget we’re living in 2016 – ‘meninists’ are on the rise, Donald Trump is grabbing pussy with wild abandon and Hilary Clinton is living in fear her Snapchat screenshots will leak. In the world of music, alas, we are still experiencing antiquated prejudice.

Nick Adraw, who has legally changed his first name to Nik by deed poll, was apprehensive about the fateful evening. He’d played it out in his head a lot – the outcomes, the reception, the possible backlash, but he thought his parents would be understanding enough to accept him for who he is. His friends had, after all, despite a period of Spotify unfollowing and cautious aux cord passing. However, he was not expecting his parents’ reaction to be as strong as it was. At 18, Adraw was kicked out of his house for simply coming out as a fan of pop-punk.

“I’ve grown up in a fiercely traditional house, where my parents have raised me on the traditional beliefs of The Stone Roses, Oasis and the rest of Britpop,” Adraw explained. “I was bought Fred Perry t-shirts, bucket hats and they even allowed me to have moped lessons, but it just didn’t feel right – there was a voice at the back of my head that was telling me this wasn’t my true identity.

“One evening, I was going to my friend’s house and a song came on; he’d accidentally left Kerrang! on Sky and before he could switch it back to MTV Rocks, I was floored – I instantly felt a rapport. I stared at the screen and saw the heavily gelled, sweeping fringes and the whiny American accent and I felt a connection that had previously gone unwavered.”

Alas, his parents didn’t share the same view, and despite giving him an initial second chance, they were shocked when they walked into his room one grave August evening. “I’d just managed to find a copy of Bowling for Soup and was tucking into its contents, when just as ‘Girl All the Bad Guys Want’ kicked in, my parents stormed in and caught me in the act – I’d even just got my first Snapback, too, so that didn’t help matters.”

“We’ve raised our son to like Britpop and alternative rock, the way God intended,” his father said. “We wanted him to be raised on the spirit of Ian Brown and with the bowl cut of Burgess. Him coming out as pop punk was an incredible shock and we still haven’t quite come to terms with it.”



Man Hospitalised After Typing Bon Iver Tracklisting By Hand


Maybe he was just excited. Maybe he thought he could handle it. Maybe he thought his internet would rekindle its fragile flame halfway through. Whatever the reason, Connor Biss took on a monumental task the day he first popped his new Bon Iver CD onto his iTunes.

Biss, 22 / a million, had bought the new record on the day of its release along with Pixies’ new album Head Carrier, and soon returned home to put it on his iPod. However, a mix of the unforgiving, blustery autumn weather and his own pitiful internet connection – which had the power of about six harnessed Ethiopians – meant that iTunes failed to recognise the tracklisting, and thus Biss was forced to type it out by hand.

His mother, though still shaken by the memory, gave a heartfelt statement: “When I saw the tracklisting on the back of the CD, I warned Connor that he might find it a big task, and that it was dangerous to try and do it himself. But he said he could handle it – he can touch type and he said he’d be fine trying to find all the different symbols and squiggles. But as he got to track six, I could tell something was clearly wrong.”

Despite thinking it might be over soon, Biss didn’t make it to the final track, and was rushed to hospital with crippling finger arthritis. “Now he can barely play the Nintendo Wii,” his mother sighed. “His hands are so fragile a slight breeze can make them crack. I just hope Justin Vernon can explain himself; what about other countries that don’t have internet connection? How are they going to type it in?”

Vernon was visibly upset by the news, and said: “I~~A(m),,,real777y sORry 2 <> hear! ^^ % rhat.”



Girl Puts “Hi We’re DIIV And We’re From New York City” Into Bio Six Months Too Late


It was one of those “you had to be there” moments, even if it wasn’t just for the Birmingham gig; everyone who was no one was there, and everyone heard it…several times. Not only that, but it has lived on in infamy – we all remember where we were on the night Amy Winehouse died, on the day Frank Ocean released Blonde, on the afternoon Corbyn wasn’t allowed in the train cockpit…and we all remember fondly the gig DIIV deviant Zachary Cole Smith uttered that glorious gambit: “hi, we’re DIIV and we’re from New York City.”

As the gig continued, it was repeated ad inifitum; in fact, those with limber livers began playing a dangerous drinking game where a shot was downed every time he said it (may they rest in peace). Of course, no sooner had the gig finished had there been a Facebook flurry of posts, memes, images and cheeky retorts (“great gig, if only we knew where they were from”, “great to see DIIV mention their hometown of New Jersey, etc”).

In fact, the statement permeated social media so sufficiently that an innumerable amount of biographies were branded with Cole’s cerebral sentence. Of course, though, those on the outside looking in were confused and compelled by this statement – why was it news? Why was everyone doing it? What happened at that gig, and why did they choose to see The 1975 instead?

Alas, one girl awoke to the news too late. Confused but intrigued by these frequent utterances, Amber Leaf decided, on the 10th October, to change her FB and Twitter biographies from “Van McCann rn pls” to “Hi, we’re DIIV and we’re from New York City.” She was young, naive and foolish, and now she has found out she’s paying a really heavy price.

“The backlash I have received would make even the hardest Meal Deal Talk poster recoil in horror,” Leaf said from a secluded Selly Oak hideout. “I wasn’t sure what the DIIV comment even meant; I just saw a few people had put it as their biography and I just wanted to fit in. I thought it would make me popular, I thought it was going to change my life and I thought it would be the start of something…I shouldn’t have given in to peer pressure.”

Her mother has also tried to appeal to social media’s sense of decency, issuing this statement: “Before she got into The Magic Gang, Amber was a kind-hearted girl who never once drank K Cider and thought the Rainbow was something a leprechaun vomited. She got more and more into the indie culture, and I guess the DIIV comment was the next stage. We didn’t realise that she’d receive such a backlash from putting in; she didn’t know it happened in March. She just wanted to fit in and be one of the ‘guys’, and now she’s locked in her room listening to Circa Waves like it’s 2014 all over again. We just want this chapter of our life closed.”

Amber has since changed her biography to the safer option of “always on the sesh, never feeling fresh.”

Teens Stunned after No Sundara or INHEAVEN Gig in Brum This Week


You always think it’s going to happen to someone else. Or, perhaps more hopefully, you always dream that it won’t occur during your lifetime. Sadly, though, what has been threatened for the past year has finally come to fruition – seven days have passed in Birmingham, and there has been no sign of long, lank hair, bare-chested pale purity, guilty glitter or pumping indie tunes. It was the week we never thought would come – Sundara Karma and INHEAVEN didn’t show up in the Second City this week.

The absence of two of the indie world’s big-hitting bands has caused a flurry of fury from local promoters, who had purposely kept slots free during the week should the bands’ respective agent give them a call. “When I first saw the bills for this week and there was no Sundara or INHEAVEN, I quickly checked to see they hadn’t split up,” said promoter Ron Golloway of Magic Knife Promotions. “I knew perhaps they’d do a secret or last-minute show, as Birmingham crowds expect them to show up at least once a week. It’s an order, really. Seeing one of these bands once a week is like the Friday night chippy & cocaine run.”

Such desertion has also hurt the bands’ respective fans. “We’ve deliberately kept our week free because we expected them to show up. We even tweeted RAT BOY and he told us he had a feeling Oscar had something up his sleeve,” said devastated fan Laura ‘Loveblood’ Drift. “Me and my friends went out the other night and spent loads on glitter, Red Stripe, disposable cameras and flowery shirts…what we gonna do with them now? We hope both bands have a reasonable explanation for this.”

The bands’ manager, InD Niall, issued a statement: “We can only apologise to the fans, promoters and reviewers of Birmingham for there not being a Sundara or INHEAVEN gig this week. As a token of our apologies, we have decided in November the Rainbow will house a one-off ‘supergroup’ show, in which INDARA HERMA will play both of the bands’ sizable hits.”



Duff Love – How Homer and Marge’s Marriage Turned from Sweet to Sad


Homer may be dumb, lazy and fat, but he’s always been refreshingly realistic when it comes to his marriage with Marge. He understands and appreciates the fact he’s lucky to have such an intelligent, articulate and caring person as his spouse, and in turn has sacrificed his own lazy, loveable man-child existence in order to care for her and the kids. As such, their relationship has been one of television’s most endearing and enamoring kinships. So why does it now permanently pang with sadness?

Maybe it was the lack of new, cutting-edge plots. Maybe it was to put a spotlight on the stagnant existence of many of America’s long-term couples. Or maybe they merely regretted the fact it was painted so perfect; after all, no marriage is seamless, and no turkeys behind the bed can hide that fact. But as The Simpsons has trundled on, one of the show’s more frequent forays has been into the ‘troubled’ side of Homer and Marge’s relationship – it has been examined and exorcised so many times now that the heart-warming scenes of Homer and Marge bike riding into the sunset feels like a Keats daydream.

Even during the show’s prime, there were troubles that threatened to topple their seemingly solid simpatico – in the very first season, Marge was abhorred by Homer’s bowling ball present and fell for the French fancy that was Jacques, leaving Homer concerned and troubled by his wife’s weekly visits to the bowling alley. In turn, Homer tried, and failed, to resist the allure of Mindy Simmons, a sexy slob that appealed to all of Homer’s avaricious appetites. But from these two crises came winning solutions – both realised, and not before time, they were meant to be together. Homer may be childish and churlish, but his love of Marge was unwavering, while Marge knew that for all of Homer’s faults he was a kind, decent man who worked a depressing job to keep her and the kids happy.


But while in the past these two, on the surface, negative factors produced a heartfelt positive, as the show has descended it has been used for depressing dejection. Cracks were beginning to show during ‘The Cartridge Family’ in Season Nine, where Homer’s obsession with his gun saw the family move out. It took Homer a longer time than usual to come around, and even then you sensed he’d rather be holding his barrel than his wife at night.

Other blemishes include the infamous ‘Co-Dependent’s Day’, where Homer’s ramped-up alcoholism infects Marge’s abstinence, causing the two to become a permanently plastered fixture at Moe’s. In the past, it would be Marge’s cordiality and cleverness that would win the day, but here Homer’s horrendous vices are instead gleamed onto Marge, showing them both to be fractured, damaged and unhappy individuals that are only happy when they’re drinking. Even worse, Homer frames Marge for drink-driving, allowing her to sweat in self-disgust and sadness. “This is a new low for me,” Homer comments at one point, but that fleeting self-awareness is soon as quickly dashed as he is from the crime scene.

Compare all of this to another episode focused around drink and the impact thereof, ‘Duffless’, and the beer goggles produce a much sweeter taste. After a month of not drinking, Homer’s anxious to annihilate his liver, but Marge’s kindness and insistence makes Homer realise there is much more to life than sitting in a dank bar every night.


Even worse, the writers became strangely obsessed with rewriting, and subsequently ruining, the honeyed backstory of Homer and Marge’s first flushes of romance. ‘The Way We Was’ and ‘I Married Marge’ were bittersweet, brilliant flashbacks of their burgeoning romance, where the weight of the real world was attempting to crush Homer’s homeliness and, in turn, Marge’s magnificence, but their mutual love and companionship provided heart-warming finales. Homer was head-over-heels for Marge from the very outset, while Marge was understandably reticent.

‘The Way We Weren’t’ betrayed this by showing Homer and Marge in fact met at a summer camp, where Homer, albeit inadvertently, broke Marge’s heart. Even worse is ‘Three Gays of the Condo’, where a flashback shows Homer’s idea of a perfect date is taking Marge to Moe’s while he plays nachos with his buddies. The ending of the episode is supposed to be emotionally swelling, as Marge stands by a young Homer while he’s treated for alcohol poisoning, but it lands like a depressing jolt of acceptance rather than a dizzy appreciation of love – it also pretty much hammers home the fact Marge only stayed with Homer because of Bart, and even though that was probably always true, it feels particularly sad here. Also, think back to Homer’s initial date with Marge, where he ordered a limo, bought a horrid suit and promised her the best night of her life…surely that feeling wouldn’t have evaporated so quickly?

Other episodes such as ‘Dangerous Curves’ showed their relationship as one that was young and troubled, fueled by arguments and ill feeling, while even the seemingly throwaway opening in ‘Sweet Seymour Skinner’s Baadasssss Song’ showed the complete opposite – two idealistic young adults with nothing but each other. By the time you’ve watched Homer pout and pack his bags on ‘Mobile Homer’ and Marge be tempted by a marine biologist in ‘Bonfire of the Manatees’, you really begin to wish this marriage would just break apart for good, for it’s doing neither party any favours – Homer is a loutish alcoholic who treats his wife and family with disinterest, while Marge is a spineless enabler.

When once their relationship had so many sweet moments (one favourite is when Homer, nervous about his NASA flight, calls Marge on a remote payphone), and while there was always a tragic sting to their young, foolish love, as time has progressed Marge and Homer’s relationship has merely become one that has been trampled upon more times than George Bush’s flowerbed. Poor vous, indeed.