Jelleyman’s Thrown a Wobbly: Saturday Afternoons in Front of the Telly

One of our earlier jokes, which focused on QPR player Fitz Hall. In fact, this gag didn't come from us and it had been mentioned earlier in the press, but we were the first to use it on national TV. Apparently it was something that everybody in the dressing room called him. People would ask, ‘Why is he called One Size?’ His teammates would respond, ‘Well, because One Size Fitz Hall’. It was a lovely gag and it just ran and ran and ran. A bit like One Size himself.

‘Fuck!’

One of the rare moments I lost my cool on camera. During the 2007/08 season I actually swore under my breath when I'd thought, wrongly of course, that the cameras weren't on me. The trouble stemmed from a match between Hartlepool and Barnet – it's always the ones nearest to you that cause you the most trouble, isn't it? We were in the middle of a very good run, unbeaten in 23 games in fact, and the last team to beat us were Barnet away.

Anyway, the day before the game I'd spoken to a few of the Hartlepool boys on the phone and they'd told me that Barnet were the worst team they had played all season. In fact, one player actually said, ‘How they beat us when we played them, we'll never know.’ Of course, in typical Hartlepool fashion, we went one down on the day. Luckily we managed to equalize in the 80th minute, and I was just about to go to the reporter at Barnet for news of this fantastic goal when I heard something in my earpiece. It wasn't meant for me, but in the background a doom-laden voice shouted, ‘There's been another goal! it's Barnet two, Hartlepool one.’ Imagine my frustration. I now had to throw over to the match reporter with the words, ‘it's not just news of one goal, but two at Underhill.’

Thinking that the screen would have changed to the match statistics, I mouthed the word ‘Fuck’ under my breath, not knowing I was still flashed across telly screens in electrical goods shops up and down the country. On Monday morning I was busted. I took a phone call from the producer asking me if I'd sworn on TV. Vic Wakeling had even received word that I'd lost my cool. I was completely taken aback. The tape was checked and my blunder was discovered. There weren't any complaints – it was hardly a repeat of Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross's misdemeanours of 2008 – and I was only showing a bit of passion after all, but the footage was plastered all over YouTube. Of course, one should be professional about these things, and it won't happen again, I promise. Unless we lose to ‘the worst team we've played all season’. Again.

‘How did Agger do-do-do?’

This is a personal tribute to Liverpool player Daniel Agger and 1980s pop group Black Lace, who released the single ‘Agadoo’. Sadly, he'd been out of action for over a year, but at the beginning of the 2008/09 campaign he made his Premier League comeback. Charlie Nicholas was covering the Liverpool game and I couldn't help but ask, ‘How did Daniel Agger do-do-do?’ Cue mass groaning from the panel. I think they thought it had gone away forever, but oh no.

Look, this is not a rant, but…

‘There was a recent poll which claimed that Middlesbrough was the worst place to live in England, with Hartlepool in 20th place. I thought the list was upside down, to be honest with you. Look, this is not a rant, but the people who compile this tosh - no disrespect - are the type who go north of Rickmansworth only when they go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and think that everyone in the north lives in Coronation Street-style terraces; they're the type who buy skinny lattes and call their mushy peas guacamole; [Phil Thompson: ‘Go on, Jeff!’] they're the sort who go out to the Ganges on holiday so some bearded bloke can sit them cross-legged and teach them to relax; they're the sort who use their Blackberrys in the silent carriages on British Rail and have Babyshambles as their ringtone.

[Charlie Nicholas: ‘Go on, Jeff!’] They're the type who think that Little Britain was funnier than The Likely Lads. They've never been to Middlesbrough. They don't know about the things we've done [Panel: ‘Go on, Jeff!’]. They've never visited Captain Cook's monument, they've never been to the Institute Of Modern Art with all its Picassos, they've never been to the beaches, they don't know about the River Tees, they don't know about Yarn Village, they've never seen the historic Transporter Bridge, for goodness sake! They've never visited the Riverside Stadium. I bet they don't know that the Sydney Harbour Bridge was built by a Middlesbrough company, Dorman Long.

'And what about the famous sons and daughters of Middlesbrough? Brian Clough, born at number 11 Valley Road, Middlesbrough, 21 April 1935: they ignore him! What about Rory Underwood, Ray Mallen, Jonathan Woodgate, Chris Tomlinson, Chris Kamara - unbelievable! They've forgotten about Paul Daniels, Roy Chubby Brown, Liz Dawn - alias Vera Duckworth, to you and I - and Journey South. They've never heard Chris Rea and they've never tasted his family's wonderful, wonderful ice cream. Okay, it's not quite as nice as Hartlepool, but I'm telling you, Middlesbrough is a darn good place to live … [My voice fades out and a two-minute ad break begins.]

[The show restarts] '… And surveys put together by wheat-free, cake-eating, Guardian-reading … Sorry, there's a goal to tell you about at Goodison Park! Here's Alan Smith.’

Fancy TV housing show Location, Location, Location had voted Middlesbrough as the worst place to live in England during a so-called poll. Who they had actually ‘polled’ remains a mystery, but they even had the cheek to then claim that Hartlepool was the 20th worst place to live in the country. Clearly they hadn't bothered to ask anyone from the north-east. Most people in that neck of the woods probably would have voted for London.

I guess shows throw out rubbish like this to generate publicity, but people in Middlesbrough were understandably unhappy about the whole affair. The mayor was up in arms and even went as far as to make a complaint to the programme-makers. Being familiar with the area, I was pretty miffed about it, too, so when the opportunity arose to talk about Boro on the show, I decided to let off steam and defend the area.

One of the main reasons I did it was because, in the past, we'd made many tongue-in-cheek comments about why footballers wouldn't go to the north-east to play. Matt Le Tissier would always argue that a lot of players are turned off by the area. I reminded him that there are some beautiful beaches up there and he would respond, ‘What's the point of having beautiful beaches if it's minus-10 degrees in the sun?’

So, people had taken cheap shots in the past and I was quite keen to redress the balance. In fact, I felt we owed the Middlesbrough people something - we'd been as guilty as anyone of featuring stereotypical imagery of the town, such as smoking chimneys and the Transporter Bridge. For some reason we never showed the lovely, rolling countryside behind.

Anyway, the night before the infamous rant (which is now featured all over the internet if you ever have a spare two minutes and the boss isn't looking at work), I gathered some thoughts into my head about the Location, Location, Location poll. It gave me quite a sleepless night. Sometimes you just go to bed thinking of things, and I had gone to bed - unlike most TV property dandies, by the sounds of things - thinking of Middlesbrough.

Plagued by creative insomnia, I began writing down everything I loved about the area - the River Tees, the beautiful hills, the beautiful beaches, the monuments and statues, Captain Cook's monument, the Picasso museum. Then I made a list of famous people from the area: Brian Clough, Chris Kamara, Chris Rea, and a few others. I thought about famous events such as the building of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, which took place there. When I got into the office I added two or three more. Paul Daniels came to mind, the band Journey South were Middlesbrough boys. In the end, I had quite a varied case for the defence.

When the subject of Middlesbrough's game came up on the show that lunchtime, I really didn't know how far this rant was going to go, but I was determined to go through with it. Looking back, I know I was pretty fired up. I began with the words, ‘This is not a rant’, which is always a sign that somebody is about to go on a rant, and I claimed that Location, Location, Location's poll was upside down. Suddenly all this pent-up rage was released as the list began to tumble from my mouth. The reaction from the boys was great. They were on their feet, egging me on. The more they urged me on, the more I kept going. Then the ad break came, and in the sort of televisual theatre that has made Derren Brown very famous, we created the illusion that I'd been ranting throughout the break by picking up just where I left off. I couldn't help myself.

The reaction afterwards was sensational. Days later, the local council called the office and the local tourist board were in touch to thank me. There were calls from magazines and newspapers; interview requests from local radio stations and Tyne Tees television. During my diatribe, I added that Brian Clough had been born in Middlesbrough and added the date of his birth. A Middlesbrough councillor told me that 10 commemorative busts had been made of Brian Clough. Nine of them had been sold and auctioned for charity, but there was one left, a real collector's item and a lovely piece, and they wanted to present it to me as a thankyou present. It was amazing.

I think a lot of what I said was true and some of it was said to make a point and have a bit of fun, but it worked out better than I could have imagined. On Valentine's Day I even got flowers from the Middlesbrough Tourist Board. The card inside read, ‘To Jeff, Happy Valentine's Day, Middlesbrough loves you.’ I doubt if the producers of Location, Location, Location will ever receive one of those.

5 The Jeff Stelling Drinking Game (#ulink_4235b14b-969a-5eb9-a2ac-08d666739c53)

There are many ways to watch Soccer Saturday on an afternoon: at home on the sofa with friends and family; in the local pub nursing a pint and a packet of pork scratchings; or alone in a dark room, curtains drawn, stark naked, save for a pair of Macclesfield Town underpants (beware: these people are to be avoided in public at all costs). Then, of course, there is the alcoholically-charged ‘experience’ enjoyed by the hardier elements of our watching audience. A marathon, Soccer Saturday-related boozing session called The Jeff Stelling Drinking Game that takes place during the 90 minutes of televised commentary and involves a series of convoluted rules, regulations and drinking rituals that nobody really understands. Think of it as being a bit like the offside rule, but a lot more fun for everyone involved.

First invented by a group of students from Sheffield Hallam University a couple of years ago, the game has since taken on a life of its own. A number of variations have recently been posted online in social networking forums such as Facebook. There's even a simmering rivalry between some of the game's organizers. The Jeff Stelling Fanclub, for example, recently posted a damning criticism of the Drinking Game's inventors, referring to them as ‘a lightweight bunch of girls who, if they ever bothered to take part, would probably be hospitalized’. It's all pretty scary stuff.

When trawling the internet, however, this behaviour is really just the tip of the iceberg. The aforementioned Jeff Stelling Fanclub (www.jeffstellingfanclub.com), to whom I'm eternally grateful for their support (please don't come to my house), hold an AGM in my honour every year. God knows what the minutes must involve, but a group of grown adults who should know better have held meetings in places such as Lancaster where, according to their slightly unnerving blog, members ‘went to the Walkabout bar to watch the [FA Cup Final] and they had terraces and chicken in a basket. The clumsiest man in the world threw beer over everyone, Chelsea won the cup in extra time and afterwards everyone said the game was really boring but we really enjoyed it! In the evening we danced to 80s music and went to a gay bar. A very confused-looking man pulled Barrow-in-Furness out of the hat for next year's AGM.’

But that's not all. Follow the relevant links from the website of the JSFC (as I like to call them) and you'll discover that a poet named P. Maguire has even posted a rambling whimsy in tribute to the show. According to experts it is ‘a bit crap’, but make up your own mind:

‘The Name's Stelling, Jeff Stelling!’

Jeff Stelling, Jeff Stelling

Is really compelling,

Like James Bond,

As slick and as smooth.

Kamara has passion,

McQueen now in fashion,

And Thommo is biased, it's true!

Jeff Stelling, Jeff Stelling,

His name I love spelling,

Like James Bond,

As smart and as cool.

Charlie Nicholas is charming,

Le Tiss is disarming,

But Cottee is not quite as cute!

Jeff Stelling, Jeff Stelling,

This love never quelling.

Like yours for your

Dear Hartlepool.

The goals you announce

As like leopards we pounce,

'Cos you never say where or for who!

Elsewhere, another internet site called www.dangerhere.com – how very apt – has devised a series of spoofed James Bond movie posters, with the finely-chiselled mugs of Roger Moore, Sean Connery, Pierce Brosnan, Timothy Dalton and Daniel Craig replaced by mine. They've even devised movie plots for each imaginary flick:

Dyer Another Day: On his own initiative, 007 (Stelling, Jeff Stelling) makes the long trip from Hartlepool to Newcastle to have a word with wayward Mag Kieron Dyer, whose camcorder constantly gets him into hot water. To spare the blushes of Dyer's latest dolly bird, 007 finds himself regretfully having to use lethal force against said electronic device. Thankfully, his handsome Sky salary means he can comfortably afford to pay the bill subsequently forwarded to him by Dyer's solicitor.