WHO REMEMBERS? The UK Nostalgia Podcast

Andrew and Liam

A nostalgia trip for anyone in the UK who grew up on dial-up Internet, Findus Crispy Pancakes, and playground rumours that couldn’t be fact-checked online. We’re not historians — we don’t do dates, and we barely do facts — but science says reminiscing gives your brain a dopamine hit, so think of us as your weekly dose of hazy memories, childhood flashbacks, and confidently misremembered events. Expect frequent arguments about who remembers things properly as we rummage through the UK’s collective memory box.

  1. 2D AGO

    Who Remembers........Playground Games?

    The bell rings, the gates swing, and suddenly it’s a world of Bulldog sprints, Tig debates, and the kind of slap that stings your pride more than your cheek. We rewind to the 80s and 90s schoolyard to unpack the games that shaped our reactions, our friendships, and our appetite for chaotic fun. From the disputed rules of British Bulldog to the gentler but no less intense What’s the Time, Mr Wolf?, we compare versions, call out the bans, and laugh at how every school invented its own lawbook. We get tactical with Tig: no tig back stalemates, Tiggy Lamppost rescues, and the nostalgia lightning bolt that is Tiggy Bob Down. Then it’s football spin-offs: the glory and grief of Wembley singles and doubles, Spot battles with “dog’s life” revivals, and heads and volleys with house rules that bordered on combat. Conkers bring the lore—stringing techniques, legendary “20-ers,” and the surprising scale of world championships—while skipping and Double Dutch remind us how rhythm and teamwork brought crowds even without a ball. There’s the soft power of paper fortune tellers, the collecting craze of Pogs and Top Trumps, and the pain Olympics of Slaps and Peanuts. And yes, we plant a flag for Kirby: two kerbs, one ball, perfect timing, and street diplomacy as cars interrupt your hot streak. Through it all, we swap stories—some daft, some painful, all vivid—about the unrefereed education those games delivered: bluffing, courage, fairness, and knowing when to argue and when to run. If rough-and-ready playground culture shaped your childhood, you’ll recognise the rules, the rows, and the joy baked into every bell. Listen, reminisce, then tell us your house rules and banned classics. If you laughed or shouted “that’s not how we played it,” follow, share with a mate, and leave a quick review—what game ruled your break time?

    52 min
  2. JAN 28

    Who Remembers........Saipan 2002? Keane v McCarthy

    A World Cup camp with no footballs, a chewed‑up pitch, and a captain who refused to accept the circus—Saipan 2002 is the moment Ireland’s ambitions met its identity. We rewind to the week that split a squad and a country, unpacking how Roy Keane’s demand for basic professionalism clashed with Mick McCarthy’s authority and approach to team culture. From the missing kit and late‑night sessions to the infamous no‑goalkeeper game, we track the small details that signalled big problems and pushed a world‑class midfielder to the brink. We walk through the Irish Times interview that lit the fuse, the charged team meeting where Keane unleashed a devastating tirade, and the immediate fallout that turned training ground gripes into national theatre. Phone‑ins, headlines, even political interventions—everyone took a side. Inside the camp, teammates mostly kept their heads down as Keane departed and McCarthy doubled down. Then came the twist: Ireland rallied to the last sixteen, losing to Spain on penalties, a result that raises a question still worth asking—did unity through avoidance help, or did missing their best player cap the ceiling? With a clear-eyed look at the aftermath—McCarthy’s resignation, Keane’s regrets and return under Brian Kerr, and later management journeys—we examine what Saipan teaches about leadership, standards, and communication. Was Keane right about the shambles? Largely, yes. Was his delivery self-defeating? Also yes. Could McCarthy have defused the bomb with a private conversation instead of a public showdown? Almost certainly. If you care about high-performance culture, football history, and the thin line between principle and pride, this one’s for you. Enjoy the dive? Follow, share with a friend, and leave a quick review to help more listeners find the show. Then tell us: Team Roy or Team Mick?

    44 min
  3. 12/31/2025

    Who Remembers........2025?

    A year that felt like a shrug still gave us more to laugh about than we expected. We start with brutal honesty—2025 gets a solid six out of ten—then sift the moments that made it strangely memorable: norovirus advisories that told you not to visit hospitals because “everyone’s ill,” bumblebee declines that quietly threaten our breakfasts, and the delicate line between a sharp heckle and a derailed gig. Along the way we tussle with AI that suggests designs it refuses to make, unpack why “neutral” TV hosts feel suspiciously synthetic, and revisit a stand-up hour that swaps belly laughs for brand power. Summer delivers the good stuff. Oasis sound better than nostalgia should allow, the Lionesses grind their way to a Euros title that rewards patience over polish, and Coldplay accidentally spark a viral not-a-couple kiss. We also sit with loss—those artists and icons who felt permanent until they weren’t—and admit that sometimes a playlist hits harder the morning after the headline. If the grand narratives dodged us, live shows and shared screens stepped in, reminding us why crowds matter. Then we go gloriously local. A football owner’s pyrotechnic pressers and collapsing cake, a front page celebrating a city street for being “the best it’s been in five years,” and an annual quiz decided by a furious debate: can whales jump higher than mountain lions? Add a delayed roadshow, a wildly amplified breathing mic, and the Saviours bracket that crowned a winner we’ll argue about until next year, and you’ve got the flavour of a year built from tiny stakes and big laughs. Hit play for a warm, sceptical, and very human rewind of 2025. If it made you smirk, share it with a friend. And if you shouted “mountain lion,” leave us a review and tell us why you’re right.

    1h 28m
  4. 12/27/2025

    Who Remembers........The Baby Boy Byfield Award for 2025? (with Joe Stephenson)

    Ever tried to sum up a football year with a single name? That’s the mischievous magic of the Darren “Baby Boy” Byfield Award, and we’ve got its creator, Major Joe Stevenson, walking us through the 2025 edition with all the wit and precision it deserves. We open the hood on how a joke-turned-tradition captures the sport’s cultural memory better than any official honour: it isn’t about form charts or medals, but about who felt absolutely of-the-moment—peaking in the headlines, the memes, the pub chat, then slipping back into the pack. We trace the award’s roots from a throwaway tweet into a festive calendar marker, revisiting why names like Brian Deane, “Actually Good Chris Wood,” and Ben Brereton Díaz landed so hard. Then we dig into the 2025 group stage: big names beside cult curios, Women’s Super League stars alongside viral flashes, and those impossibly specific labels that make you grin—“Manchester City’s Frank Lampard” energy applied to a new crop. Expect sharp cases for and against contenders like Marcus Rashford “at Barça,” Scott McTominay, Dan Burn, Semenyo, Everton’s Jack Grealish, Mary Earps, Chloe Kelly, Hannah Hampton, and Sam Kerr, with a frank look at recency bias and the real criteria: who defined the year. We also dive into the delicious chaos of the Gimmick Battle Royal, featuring still‑unemployed Henry Winter, the big‑haired United fan, and a Graham Potter face swap—because modern football memory lives online as much as on the pitch. Can a manager like Big Ange fit the Byfield mould after a year of whiplash highs and lows? Should non‑players ever win? We make the case, challenge lazy picks, and celebrate the award’s charitable backbone, where witty donations fuel real impact. Vote, reminisce, and help bottle 2025 in one unforgettable name. If you enjoyed the episode, follow the show, share it with a friend, and leave a quick review—then tell us your Byfield winner and why.

    37 min
  5. 12/23/2025

    Who Remembers........Christmas Through The Eyes of a Child?

    The first spark wasn’t the tree or the lights—it was the Argos catalogue hitting the table and turning hopes into a plan. We tap into the warm rush of childhood Christmas in the UK, remembering the magic made from small rituals: stockings by the radiator, a bitten carrot on a tray, and parents pulling off midnight engineering to assemble bikes and bunk beds without a squeak. It’s a love letter to the belief we chose to hold, even when the seams showed. We look at how culture framed the day: the TV Times circled in pen, a nation watching the same specials, and those giddy chart battles where Mr Blobby somehow edged out Take That and E17 wore the crown over Oasis and Mariah. There’s affectionate snark for modern schedules, gentle digs at panto, and stories of carol services that still make the season feel communal. And then the presents—Mr Frosty envy, Paul Daniels magic sets, Screwball Scramble, the Yamaha or Casio keyboard that promised instant talent, and the consoles that redrew the living room. The bike reveal. The power of “this is mine” at 6 a.m. Christmas Day is joy and chaos: rules about opening small to big, stockings first, and a dinner plate debate that will never end—turkey versus beef, sprouts for honour, Yorkshire puddings for everyone, and absolutely, yes, gravy. We talk about the afternoon lull, the quiet reset, and why Boxing Day might secretly be better for actually enjoying what you got—leftovers, football, and the calm to play without interruption. Then comes the limbo week and the truth we eventually learn: the magic returns when you make it for someone else. Press play for laughter, shared memories, and a reminder that the best part of Christmas isn’t the perfect logic; it’s the effort, the surprise, and the moment a child believes. If this brought back a memory, share it with a friend, subscribe for more nostalgia, and leave us a review to help others find the show.

    1h 11m

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About

A nostalgia trip for anyone in the UK who grew up on dial-up Internet, Findus Crispy Pancakes, and playground rumours that couldn’t be fact-checked online. We’re not historians — we don’t do dates, and we barely do facts — but science says reminiscing gives your brain a dopamine hit, so think of us as your weekly dose of hazy memories, childhood flashbacks, and confidently misremembered events. Expect frequent arguments about who remembers things properly as we rummage through the UK’s collective memory box.

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