MATT ELLIS's
DEFINITIVE GUIDE TO 
" THE PROGRESSIVE PREMIER LEAGUE"

Right, I'm always being asked "If [insert name of your favourite Prog band here] were a Premier League football team, which one would they be?" and I always spend some time thinking about the correct answer. So I thought I'd finally put pen to paper and finger my keyboard and I came up with my guide to the Progressive Premier League.

Ok, then. Lets start with the top, because that's where the money is, hey kids? So who would be MANCHESTER UNITED. You want solidarity, dependability, a fine sense of tradition, and a marketing machine full of muscle and clout. So for me, there could only really be one contender, and that's the numero uno Prog band in the world at the moment, without question, ARENA. Let's compare the line-ups, shall we. In goals, those loveable rascals from Manchester have the follically-challenged, facially haired but beautifully-girlfriended FABIEN BARTHEZ. Solid, dependable, a touch of flair now and again, even thought he does drop a rickett or two, especially when faced by mad Italians and silky Frenchmen. Has to be MICK POINTER of course. He holds it all together at the back, organizes his 'front' four with consummate ease and skill. Never flustered neither. In midfield, United have NICKY BUTT. Nickies underrated, a good, hard, worker and a bit of a nutter. So there's IAN SALMON for you. They even look the same, just like Lionel Ritchie. On the left wing, we find the hirsute, yet tricky RYAN GIGGS. This could only be Arena's own hoary Welshman JOHN MITCHELL. He's clever and pacey, renowned for playing up and down the fretboards, deep chugging teamworkman like riffs, complicated solo's, daft hair, it's all too similar to mention. Out on the right, in the DAVID BECKHAM role of multimedia superstar and pinup to millions of girls, we find shaggy CLIVE NOLAN. More flair than a shipping disaster in November, larger than life, and a certain starter in anyones band. He can play the short fillers, he can play the long stuff, he likes a kick or two as well and dislikes Argentineans. So we have the terrible twins on the wings, Nolan and Mitchell, chucking the chords and riffs and musical crosses into the centre for none other than Arenas own Baby-faced Assassing ROB SOWDEN. Yes, their own OLE GUNNAR SOLSKJAER. He's come in as a late substitute, but always gives 10%. His performances are totally faultless, even though he speaks not a word of English. And people can't spell either of their names correctly.

So there you have it, Arena are the Manchester United of the Prog World, and are as loved worldwide as their slightly more famous namessakes. But who are the LIVERPOOLS? Lets look at the clues. Back in the 80's, Liverpool were the team to beat. Top of the pile. Kings of England, Rulers of Europe, but ignored in America. In short, untouchable. A lonely piece of action, from another town, even. Then, they slipped down, a succession of poor managers and over hyped players saw to that, and a succession of bleak, uninspired seasons ended all too early. Not even their bravest fans could see a way back. But, somehow, they are coming back. Though still not the force they were, they are at last catching up with the big boys, and the future is once again looking bright. Ding-a-ling, ring any bells? Step forwards MARILLION, once more into the breach, to be reborn.

Moving swiftly on, we come to ARSENAL. Always flattering to deceive. Full of invention, but not quite capable of sustaining any achievements. Well, it just has to be IQ doesn't it! I know they'd rather be Southampton, or Bury City, or Birmingeham Rovers, but sod it, the Gunners they are. PAUL COOK is a dead ringer for DAVID SEAMAN. They must have been separated at birth, or maybe just after. A fine dependable drummer, who's best days are probably just getting past him now. though he would still stagger into most peoples dream bands. For JOHN JOWITT, just see ROBERT PIRES. Stuck out on the wing (but not afraid of coming in the middle). Mazy, silky runs, teasing crosses and a powerful shot. Makes daring passes and big in the tackle. On the right, the Arsenal have RAY PARLOUR. Bit of a nutter, likes setting off in Pizza Hut's and getting into tight spots. Well, to me that's MIKE HOLMES to a tee. And they've both got ginger hair. Orchestrating it all in midfield is PATRICK VIEIRA. Young, tall, imperilious and majestic. Could almost be a description on MARTIN ORFORD, couldn't it! And he'll play on like a super trouper through the pain barrier, as he showed way back in Kleve in 1992. Right up front, there's PETER NICHOLLS, IQ's own DENNIS BERGKAMP. The Arsenal fans call him 'God' (as do IQ's own 'Lost Attic Boyz') but his daughter calls him 'Dad'. Walking in a Nicholls Wonderland, yes indeedie.

Now then, CHELSEA. An enigma if ever there was one. Skillful, but without achieving anything. Continental, yet still with that thuggish backbone. OK at home, but never well received away. Don't like playing away? Surely there can't be a band who don't like playing away? Well, what about LANDMARQ then. Ok, they've had one or two triumphs, big gigs etc, but that's just like winning the cup, isn't it. They've never challenged for the proper title, and probably never will. The line up starts off with a dodgy keeper, who's often caught out dillying and dallying around the bok, with pretty bad ball control too. There's a 'Cheeky Cockney Chappie' in midfield, a tricky Continental on the wing, who'll play a blinder one week, then go missing for a month. But, up front, there is the forward to die for. Stunning performances come easy here, so there's always hope for the team. Don't know how any of that actually relates to Landmarq, but there you go!

Ok then, Who's Next? Oh yeah, 'Dirty' LEEDS UNITED. Arrogant, spiteful, and the have the knack of rubbing people up the wrong way. For a while it really looked like they could be a major force, but although they're currently putting up a good show in Europe, they're doing pants back home in Blighty. Everyones says they're going to be big, but no one likes them. Step forwards PORCUPINE TREE.

Perennial never do gooders SOUTHAMPTON next. Are they still up there? Does anyone care?? Well, they're still there. No one knows how. No-one watches them. Is it really football they play? Where's their inspirational playmaker gone? It can only be GRAY LADY DOWN, can't it, boys and girls.

IPSWICH TOWN. Bright young guns, just happy to be here. Started setting the place alight (not literally, Fudge) and it all looked rosy for them, but recently results have been, well, poor. So who could this be? Find out in part two.

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