Cooper dooper

My brother says he has CDO. Actually he has OCD but he insists on putting it into alphabetical order.
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Football fans are not a cultured lot. I've been trying to get my lot to nickname the Spurs midfielder Danny Rose as 'Broadway' but I just get blank looks. And this from a team with a large Jewish fanbase. You'd think they'd have more idea about Woody Allen's oeuvre wouldn't you?
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The online versions of our daily newspapers are a varied bunch and indicative of how seriously, I think, they treat this whole web publication issue.
Today was a good example. It was the funeral of Henry Cooper. Lots of good emotional detail to be had but, most of all, pictorially it was a newsdesk's dream. Plenty of celebs past and present, all looking smart, giving the nostalgia addicts on the backbenches something to work with.
Unfortunately a lot of people who work on the web editions of newspapers are under 12 so don't have much idea who Frank Carson, Barry McGuigan, Pat Jennings and the like are. They may just about recognise Kevin Keegan as that manager who had a bit of a paddy during a Sky interview and Bruce Forsyth could be familiar because of Strictly.
Sky's website had pictures online almost immediately after the funeral cortege passed by. The BBC were soon after. The Mail didn't seem to have it at first but soon caught up and used lots and lots of pictures and plenty of detail. It was by far the best show of the pops.
However, the state of online subbing on the Mail also meant that on another headline they had the words 'Insert Line Here' so that blotted their copybook.
The Sun had a good detailed report but, strangely, no pictures for ages. The Mirror had some pics but their website is so hard to navigate that you might as well not have bothered. The Express had its usual cursory nod to the day's events and by then I'd had enough of looking.
It strikes me a lot of the best selling daily papers still have a lot to learn.
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Money's a funny thing. I've been trying to research holidays and there is something instinctive within me that makes me avoid sites with names like LoCost or Poundstretcher and it has nothing to do with grammar or spelling.
But I have friends, far wealthier than I, who are instantly drawn to these names and will automatically sail past anything with the word 'luxury' or 'tailor made' attached to them. Admittedly many of them are in the medical profession where it's hard to have any conversation that doesn't, at some point, end up talking about how much things cost.
'How's the handicap doc?' 'Oh it's not bad but they've put the green fees up. I bought a new driver the other day, it cost £400 but I got it for £397.'
Or 'fancy a pint later' 'yeah, but not at that place, they charge £3.90 a pint!'
And so on.
I know there's an argument that rich people are the tightest and that's how come they are rich but I don't buy it. That may work for entrepreneurs who pile it high and sell it cheap like my dad's old mate Johnny Bloom (look him up) but not for those in highly paid professions. They're just tightwads.
But in a strange way because tight, rich people can be amazingly generous at times - donating hundreds of pounds at a charity auction in an instant - and then remarkably stingy at others, arguing over buying a bottle of wine for 50p less than another.
Although I tend to think that they often budget months ahead that they'll have a day when they spend recklessly before going home to a sleepless night and three more months of furious pennypinching.
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The advert starts with a spotty youth in a chef's outfit saying 'When I was young I wasn't interested in food.' To prove how devoted he now is to the culinary art it shows him preparing chicken 'by hand' and cooking it lovingly. Then he takes it out of the oven and shoves it in a KFC bucket.
I'm off to eat something that doesn't come in a bucket (as the actress said)...finger licking goodnight...Solly