What I think of football.

Football Mania has swept throughout the country in a plague better reported than swine flu (and just about as deadly as that turned out to be). As one of the few unafflicted souls, I cannot see what is so incredible about several men in shorts roaming around a field for 90 minutes. The creators of football were forced to introduce a break halfway through every game to prevent people like myself dying from boredom whilst watching it. Because, the sad truth is, not much happens.

However, drawing on my previous World Cup experiences, it is possibly worse when something does happen. If England scores a goal, I find copious numbers of sweaty men thrusting themselves onto one another, and I am always the ill-fated soul at the centre of the bundle. I can only presume that I am being punished for some grotesque crime in a former life. What I do not understand is why a single goal causes so many people to completely abandon any attempt at self-restraint. You manage it at weddings; you’re happy then, but no-one rugby-tackles the priest or leaps onto the bride’s back in excitement. (My Mad Uncle Jack is an exception).

The players are just as bad, having violent group hugs whenever the ball hits the net. In fact, when Uruguay unexpectedly scored against Italy, they took things a step further.


Bromance is a beautiful thing… but this really is taking it too far.

It’s even more dreadful when the other team scores. I’m forced to brace myself for a bout of angry people shouting things like: “What?!”, “Oh, that’s right, just let them walk right in!” and “WHERE WAS OUR DEFENCE?” (Interestingly enough, I reckon the Trojans were shouting similar things when the Greeks came out of that horse.)

England’s had a pretty unpromising start, and seeing as it’s been a staggering 44 years (my MUM is nearly that old) since England last won the World Cup, it’s highly unlikely that the event will be repeated this year, or indeed, ever. In fact, I believe that it’s far more probable that Alex Pettyfer and I will start dating. Hopefully, my torment will be over soon, and England won’t last long in the World Cup.

But, if we do do well… I’m giving Alex a ring.