World Cup "Fever"

Hello again,

Still at work at about 8 in the evening, but the beer fairy has graced me with her presence. Her name is apparently San Miguel, her measurements are 6", 6", 6" and she is 6.5" tall - and a Leo (although don't ask me how I can tell). Her main interests are World Peace, pretty clothes, and taking the edge off Thursday evenings. She is wearing a nice shiny gold number with a white, green and red sash. Woof. Frankly.

Smashing, now I'm done waxing lyrical about a can of lager, I shall move on to my prinicpal concern for the evening - the FIFA World Cup.

Given that I am English, and a devoted footie fan, it may come as something of a shock that I WISH THEY WOULD SHUT THE F**K UP ABOUT 1966. I wasn't even a twinkle in anyone's eye at that point, and, for the love of God, let it go. Ok, once upon at time, we were good. In black and white. No wonder we won - if you can't tell the teams apart because they're all in grey, the game is surely more down to luck than skill. Oh, that and we were playing 4-2-4. So, if any of you, non-existant, readers happen to be in charge of telly in any capacity at all, I urge you: GIVE IT A REST.

Honestly, it's pathetic. Nearly as pathetic as the entire population of Scotland buying a Trinidad and Tobago strip. Nearly. Not quite though.

To the people of Scotland, therefore, I say the following:
1) I'm really sorry that England is better at nearly every sport known to man than you. But at least when do we beat you, be don't gloat like kids round a sand-pit.
2) I'm also really sorry for the following:
•Will Carling
•The Highland Clearances
•Killing Mel Gibson... sorry, William Wallace.
•Not, as a nation, having anything like the problem with heart disease that you do. (Hint: There is enough cholesterol and carbohydrate in pizza without covering it in kebab fat, deep-frying it, and then eating it with chips - with a deep-fried Mars bar for afters, if I might be so bold).

However, I should point out, that none of this is actually my fault. Had I personally fathered Will Carling, shoved your ancestors on to boats, and invented the process of frying in grease, all the while brutally eviscerating a national hero of yours, then I would consider the comical England baiting all well and good.

I didn't.

Grow up.