At the behest of Capt. Furball, I'm re-reading A Streetcar Named Desire - a play I struggle with, seeing as I have so little in common with the main character.

However, I've been reminded of a good joke:

It's the end of the footie season, and as usual the Scottish FA Cup Final is an all-Glasgow Old Firm derby. Everything is pretty much as you might expect in the run up to the game, but there's a bit of a surprise when the team sheets are published: Celtic are playing Blanche DuBois in goal. Not having much of a previous reputation in the Scottish Football League, Blanche is considered something of an odd choice to say the least.

Anyway, the game gets going. All Blanche does is stand in the goal mouth, doing her nails and fixing her hair. Occasionally she takes a slug from a bottle of whisky. Before very long, a striker is in the box - Blanche does nothing, and it looks like he's going to send the ball right past her. But at the last minute, the striker clutches his hands to his eyes, apparently unable to see. Guessing where the goal is he shoots wildly, but misses by a mile. This happens again nine or ten times during the game. Each time a striker gets near Blanche's goalmouth position, he clutches his eyes and misses the ball. Celtic win 3-0.

After the game Alan Hansen tracks down Blanche in the dressing room. 'Super game, Blanche. But can you tell us how you do it? How do you manage to just stand there, knowing that every ball that's shot at you is going to miss?

'Well you know Alan,' she drawls, 'I have always depended on the blindness of Rangers.'