The Geordie Chronicles

Bonkworld is proud to present The Geordie Chronicles by Jonathan, hilarious yet compelling tales of heartache, misery, absurdity, and yes, occasionally, a bit of glory as well. Tales, in other words, of the Newcastle United Football Club, steeped in rich history and soaked in lager, all astutely observed and meticulously documented. These articles have all been published by NUFC's premiere fan magazine, The Mag, but we had them first. Or possibly second. In any case, we present for your reading pleasure, with summary descriptions by Joanthan himself:

Between the Sticks: Recalling the succession of feckless individuals with the gall to call themselves 'goalkeepers' to have donned the famous Newcastle number 1 jersey in the last 20 years. These bastards are collectively responsible for taking approximately 15 years off my life. So far.

The Bovver Boys: About, well, bovver boys. Aging and not very hard ones, who are old enough to know better, really, and who sit beside me at the match. This article is the result of five years' silent seething on my part, and the distillation of five years' worth of my drunken post-match rants. Maybe some people will get what I've been going on about for all this time now. Maybe.

Up for the Cup: Newcastle United have a proud cup-fighting tradition, allegedly, although no-one of our generation has seen any evidence. There is a photo somewhere of Wor Grandad Baker setting off to Wembley in a 1950s charabang with a cigar, a black and white rosette, and a cheeky grin. Come to think of it, I used to have the rosette. They're knocking Wembley down this year, and playing the Cup final in Cardiff. Will this change Newcastle's luck? What do you think?

In Defence of the Messiah: An impassioned defence of former Newcastle coach Kevin Keegan. Essentially about revisionism, a beautiful word that never quite made it into the article, in much the same unfathomable way that the genius midfielder Lee Clark could never quite make Kenny Dalglish's first team, although I digress. Hopefully this piece will become the standard bar-room defence of the Messiah for years to come. Keegan supporters could whip it out of their breast pockets at the outset of a brawl, and miniature versions could perhaps be printed on beermats. But for now this and the Mag will have to do.