I don't think I've had a bang on the head. I'm not drunk. I'm sure I feel okay. And yet I seem to be writing something in defence of Radio Leicester football commentator Ian Stringer. I didn't realise it had been such a long week.
First, though, some background.
It is fair to say I am not Ian Stringer's biggest fan. He makes my toes curl on a weekly basis with his non-stop banter. If Ian is about anything, he's about the banter, the relentless, wearisome, when-will-it-end banter.
I remember him when he was on The Apprentice and he was making a ludicrously big deal out of not being able to say the word 'loser'. He opted for calling it the 'L word'. No, I'm not making that up and, yes, it was every bit as idiotic as it sounds. Ian, it should be noted, is a Leicester City fan. I imagine the past three months have been a struggle for him.
I don't get to as many Leicester City games as I'd like to these days so, inevitably, I end up listening to Radio Leicester on a Saturday afternoon and shouting at the radio – not for the team's performance, although that hasn't been great, but for Stringer's 'banter' and his myopic view of the game.
Jokes about sandwiches.
A bit of observational "comedy" about something that's happening off the pitch. Another joke about sandwiches.
An incident. A tussle in the box.
"That's a penalty! A clear penalty!"
Cue Matt Elliott, his wiser side kick. "I'm not sure about that, Ian..."
It turns out it isn't a penalty.
Then another foul.
"How has he not been sent off for that? Watch Match of the Day tonight. That's a definite sending off."
Watch Match of the Day that night. It's not a sending off.
Ian Stringer is not the worst commentator Radio Leicester have had. The little Derby-supporting one was worse, and possibly smugger, if you can imagine that.
My beef is that he is some distance from being as good as he thinks he is.
Earlier this year, Radio Leicester sacked ex-City striker Alan Young and, after riding a huge storm of protest, they introduced their new summariser – ex-City defender and no-nonsense Irishman Gerry Taggart.
Big Gerry lasted a couple of pre-season friendlies and then he was gone. He wasn't seen again. He was offered "another job in football".
I don't know what that "other job in football" was but I do wonder – and I am only wondering, I am but sharing my wonder with you – if Gerry had just about had his fill of Ian and his non-stop banter bus.
I imagine them sharing lifts with each other to and from games.
Stringer: "Gerry, Gerry, have I told you about the time I was in the Apprentice house and Alan Sugar rang…."
Gerry: "That's great, Ian. Can you just turn the radio up?"
Because Ian is all about the banter. He is Eric Bantona. He is the Archbishop of Banterbury. The banter – before the game, during the game, after the game – is constant. It's like being trapped in the worst estate agent's office in the world. It's suffocating.
And yet...
It's been a torrid time for Leicester City of late. Two points from a possible 30. The manager swearing at an abusive fan. Caught up in this maelstrom is the hapless Stringer.
It's his job to ask the manager questions right after the game. And inevitably the questions, after 10 games without a win, have been getting more and more awkward.
That is only right, isn't it? The questions should be getting more awkward. I don't want the man from Radio Leicester asking the manager of my ailing club if he's looking forward to Christmas. I want him to ask the City boss where he thinks it's going wrong and how he is going to put it right.
I don't care how media friendly you say you are – and in Pearson's case, that's not very media friendly at all – but if you ask obvious questions of someone in difficult circumstances then, in my experience, they never seem to like that very much.
Now, you could argue Stringer was asking those questions very early on this season. Too early on, perhaps.
And you could say, and I might agree, it sometimes sounds like he's asking those questions a little bit too gleefully; that his readiness to raise the subject of the sacking of a man who gives him such short shrift each Saturday may sound suspiciously like enthusiasm.
I don't know. Maybe that's how the people at City feel. They may have a point.
All I know is that last week, after the 10th game without a win, no players, no-one from the club's management team, spoke to Radio Leicester.
I was at home, ironing my shirts, listening to the game. There was a bit of tepid after-match chat – and then it was straight over to Welford Road for the rugby. No interview.
And, suddenly, from thinking Ian Stringer was a bit of an Alan Partridge character, I felt a bit sorry for him. They gave Ian Stringer and Radio Leicester the cold shoulder.
I remember the wise words of Micky Adams about 10 years ago when Leicester City unwisely ditched the Post Horn Gallop to trot out to some interminable hip-hop nonsense about jumping up and down.
There was an outrage. Adams, to his credit, backed down.
"Micky Adams is just the caretaker here," he said, referring to himself in the third person in that way he always did. The tune was re-instated.
Nigel Pearson is also a caretaker here. Whether you like him or not – I'm still, just about, on the Pearson bus; although the more we lose and the more he swears at fans, the more I go off him – Nigel Pearson is the same. He is the custodian.
Radio Leicester, for all of their faults, will be around longer than Nigel Pearson. Giving Ian Stringer the cold shoulder means they're ultimately giving their fans, listening at home, the cold shoulder. And that seems a shame.
I'm sure, as in most disagreements, the truth lies somewhere in the middle of both parties.
Maybe Pearson shouldn't quite be so brusque with journalists whose job it is to ask obvious questions after football matches and maybe some journalists need to think of better ways of asking a difficult man difficult questions.
But it will blow over. These things always do.
And, maybe, when it does, both sides will be better for the experience and it will be the fan – you and me – who benefits.
Up the City, eh?
![Fred Leicester column: City fans lose out when the Archbishop of Banterbury gets the cold shoulder. Fred Leicester column: City fans lose out when the Archbishop of Banterbury gets the cold shoulder.]()