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| 25 February, 1980 |
[February the 25th, 2010] |
That's all I have to say.
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| 21 February, 1980 |
[February the 21st, 2010] |
All right, so here's the situation:
As the papers have said we've lost two players. One of them was my captain, who was only being a brilliant man, and who was only doing the right thing by defending his teammates. There are those of us who have been lucky enough to call him a friend, and I've known Ross almost nine years now. Fuck all if I can put into words everything that ought to be said of the man. Now, I know most of you out there only know him from what you see in matches and the odd interview, but I'm going to take a moment to explain something, here...
Ross Stapleton was a husband and the father of three. His eldest isn't any older than ten years old. Those children were watching that match yesterday with their mum. They saw their father go down and get ripped up by vampires.
I have a sister that was hurt badly last night. Three close friends of mine are put up in St. Mungo's, two of them fighting for their lives. I don't even know the count on injuries and deaths when it comes to people who just there to watch, but I've been making rounds in St. Mungo's to visit those that have been lucky enough to pull through in one piece. I lost track of how many people I've seen already. There are a lot. A lot.
What was accomplished? What in the hell does taking on a bunch of defenceless civilians do? As I'm hearing it, there is a really good chance that Quidditch is being called off for an undetermined amount of time, too. There has already been blood and death. There has already been families being torn apart. Now, one of the last things anyone has to look forward to to get away from this fucking war is pretty much down the shitter.
Make your own conclusions about it. I know mine.
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| 21 February, 1980 |
[February the 21st, 2010] |
Fuck warding. Everyone and anyone I know that was at those matches, I want to see you writing right here as soon as humanly possible.
MacDougals, you had better be fucking fine.
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| 19 February, 1980 |
[February the 19th, 2010] |
Kids are not that hard to look after. "But," you say, "Madog, that's ridiculous. You only had to look after one for a few hours. That hardly makes you an expert!"
No, it completely makes me an expert. I don't really care about logic. I don't have to. I'm famous and wealthy. This is how the world works.
Quinn and Marion, if you ever need someone to look after Miranda again, you know who to call.
And since I was getting bombarded with questions, I'll take the moment to say this: No, I don't have any kids. No, I don't want you to have my kids. No, I don't want to look after your kid. It's flattering, sure. But it's creepy as fuck, mostly. So stop asking.
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| 21 December, 1979 |
[December the 21st, 2009] |
The best part about having no manager is that there's no one riding my arse to write shite in here.
( Ned Proffitt )
What's more is that Madog MacDougal can even write in the third-person if Madog MacDougal so pleases.
No, I'm not going to keep that up.
All I really wanted to write was that I hope the full lot of you out there have a happy and a safe Christmas. Even you, sleazy columnists.
( Nora Alderton & Kamal Nehru )
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| 4 December, 1979 |
[December the 4th, 2009] |
Usually I don't give away tickets because we're talking about Magpies games, here. When are they not crowded, right?
Anyway, I feel like December's a good month for giving, so whoever sounds the most desperate wins a pair.
"How many pairs do you have, Madog?" Sorry. The game doesn't work that way.
( Kamal Nehru )
( Gwen MacDougal )
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| 28 November, 1979 |
[November the 28th, 2009] |
It looks like what I need to do is jot down a few things for the record.
To anyone that can't accept that Nora and I called it off:
Get a hobby.
To anyone sending Nora things in the post to fuck around with her:
Get a better hobby.
To the photographers:
Stop taking shots at bad angles. Aren't you lot paid to take non-shite pictures for a living?
Morgan:
How's Appetizer? And you, I guess. How are you? Me? I'm fucking bored out of my skull, thanks for asking.
Kamal:
I don't have any bleeding heart love poetry for you, sweetheart, but you'd better be on that pitch for tomorrow's game.
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| 6 November, 1979 |
[November the 6th, 2009] |
Ned says I should write something because I haven't in a while. Sorry, Ned. I'll try to do better in the future, Ned.
Well, well. What can I write? As you know, Quidditch is off for two weeks, even though that's the least of everyone's worries right now.
Then there's the same old rubbish otherwise.
And that about sums it up, thank you.
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| 18 October, 1979 |
[October the 18th, 2009] |
Usually I don't feel compelled to thank anyone on the other team after a match, but I'm willing to break character. Melinda Robertson, my eternal gratitude to you for making sure I didn't doze off after the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, or seventh hour of that match yesterday. Odd tactics, going almost solely for the beater on the opposing team, but that isn't me judging anyone. Much. Way to take it down to caveman level, Robe
Nora love, if she doesn't know how to read doesn't have a journal, be so kind as to pass that along for me?
( Gwen MacDougal, Morgan MacDougal, Angus MacDougal )
( Nora Alderton )
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| 6 October, 1979 |
[October the 6th, 2009] |
You know what I love? Old bid ladies. No, not like that. What I mean is no matter who you are, they're blissfully unaware of you being anything but a 'nice young person', and then they tell you to watch your language.
Context? Yeah, I'm getting there. I think I made friends with someone's grandmum today, and there you have the most exciting bit of my week. If anyone has a grandmother that smokes like a fucking chimney and can probably drink most of the world under a table, congratulations to you. You have quite possibly the most fuck-off amazing grandmother in the galaxy.
Oh, and the Magpies won on Saturday. How do you like that? I was chuffed. Well chuffed.
( Nora Alderton )
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| 29 September, 1979 |
[September the 29th, 2009] |
Nimbus really did a bang up job with their latest model. Yeah, yeah. I know. I already went on and on about that on the wireless, but I'm technically not supposed to brag about being one of the first to own one of these things while I'm endorsing. Anyway, I could write a full novel on it, but the short form is that it's a fucking work of art. And, Merlin, do I ever love my life.
( Morgan MacDougal )
By the way, Biggerstaff is a fucking brilliant surname, isn't it? I asked him if that was seriously his name when we were off the air, and he said, "Seriously, it is."
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| 22 September, 1979 |
[September the 22nd, 2009] |
( Morgan MacDougal )
I was told to write something about matches closer to when they happen. Yeah, sorry. Life got busy. Calm down, Ned. Next time I'll make sure to get on that.
Oy! Kamal, how's that chaser teammate of yours with the broken nose? All better? I wasn't aiming for his face, but he swerved right into that bludger. Good job the crowd loved it, yeah?
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| 8 September, 1979 |
[September the 8th, 2009] |
Capt. says that I need to stop mouthing off like a bleeding git on the pitch. I'm all right with that!
Now he's saying I need to stop mouthing off like a bleeding git OFF the pitch. Pain in my arse, but I can jive with that for here I am... Not mouthing off! Just writing. See how we MacDougals solve problems.
(Oh, come on. Like you wouldn't do the same.)
What else? We're stopped over in Kenmare for an upcoming match and there are loads of Irish around. I expect that's common in Ireland. Met a twin set out here, too. Two very friendly girls. I think I have a new favourite type of person in very friendly Irish twin girls. CHEERS, Kenmare! I am a fucking lifelong fan.
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