As the formality the World Cup tournament commences, and thoughts already advance to the knockout stage, questions play upon my mind, chiefly this; should England practise taking trophies? I say not. I am confident John Terry will grasp it with two firm, warm hands on July 11, with no slip-ups on the podium leading to accidental collisions with other players’ naked wives.
Meanwhile, a message to all UK-based foreigners, who find themselves flanked on all sides by the flag of St George and might consider that in some way they are regarded askance as hostile aliens. Fear not. Agree to support England and you may stay. Till half time. Then gather up your rags and await instructions by bullhorn. As for Englishmen concerned with the level of fervent patriotism shown by their next door neighbours, ie, failing to display a flag of St George with the word “ENGLAND” helpfully emblazoned across the middle in order to distinguish it from the French flag, take heed of the following instructions. 1. Stay calm 2. Call the police, who will presently arrive in Morris Minors. 3. Turn up your wireless to drown out bludgeoning noises through the walls as they handle the matter.
The opening ceremony. Since no one else has said it, I will. There appear to be a remarkable number of negroes in this stadium. However, it is pleasing to see that the adverts on commercial television being brave enough to depict the truth about South Africa’s darker-skinned citizens – that they are all living in cheerful poverty. I, too, would be smiling and cheerful if I were a darker-skinned South African, and not just at the thought of working 14 hour shifts in the diamond mines to advance the interests of my distant English employers. I would be in a state of constant, tickled amusement at my own language, and the phrases, nameplaces it throws up. “Vuvuzela! Bafana! Mandela!” All hilarious. Life for these people must be like rolling in one long aisle.
Mexico v South Africa (1-1)
The Mexicans are showing the same marked reluctance to remain in their own half as they do their own country. The commentator ejaculates to the effect that “South Africa have liberated themselves” – as if to imply that this were necessarily a good thing. However, a draw is the right result. Wins over-inflame the peasantry of third world nations, losses make them querulous. Draws leave them properly subdued.
France v Uruguay (0-0)
It seems the French team is a mixture of English foreigners (Anelka) foreign foreigners (Ribery) and English foreign foreigners (Henry). My advice to the Uruguayans is, when in close contact with the French in midfield, whisper in the players’ ears something amusing Mr Jerry Lewis once said or did, reducing them to helpless hysterics. Then advance and score at will.
England v USA (1-1)
Anticipation mounts, despite the absence of key members of our defence. This being the United States Of America, however, a 0-0-5 formation ought to do the trick. Moreover, highly as I regard Rio Ferdinand, I deplore his being named after the second city of a hostile nation. Why not Birmingham Ferdinand? A timely name change by deed poll could boost England.
As for the USA, another reminder. The game tonight kicks off at 7.30. Not 7.55, not 8.45 but 7.30. We would be obliged if you could be in this conflict from the start.
Serbia v Ghana (0-1)
Serbia. Not so much a team as an assortment of sinister generic viagra henchmen. Mr Roger Moore would make short work of them. As for 11 Ghanaian men, I am less sure.
Germany v Australia (4-0)
Hmm. One can sense the German supporters – their vuvuzela drones have audible umlauts – vüvüzelas, if you will. As for the Australians, well, the South has performed poorly, as a hemisphere, throughout history and tonight would appear to be no exception. Their play is ponderous, futile and doomed, as if having taken to the field wearing Ned Kelly-type makeshift suits of armour. A fast and free-scoring start for the Germans – as ever, they have started off well. However, I would not be drawing up the blueprints for the redesign of Berlin just yet.
Japan v Cameroon (1-0)
Japan-Cameroon on the British Broadcasting Corporation. Both teams beaten by England so I have no idea what they are trying to prove. They are equally vanquished. As it is, the Japanese prevail.
Inscrutable in victory, the Japanese. Not like our own Alf Ramsey, whose expressions ranged wildly from grim satisfaction to grim dissatisfaction. But then, foreign nations as a whole do not experience emotions they way we English do, merely fall into ritualistic behaviour patterns – dancing, bright colours, so forth – as befits their animal nature.
Italy v Paraguay (1-1)
A simple glance at the map is instructive. Italy; the shape of an effeminate boot. Great Britain, by contrast; plumed, regal, sedentary, breaking wind in the direction of France. As for the National Anthems, both Italy and Paraguay should have theirs confiscated. Both sound composed in haste following coups whose success surprised even the plotters.
Only three more days till the next World Cup game. Meanwhile, I am alarmed at possible fissures at Camp England. Joe Cole says England “can” win the World Cup? Why the “can”, Mr Cole? Not unlike saying, gravity “can” prevent you from floating into space. The word is “will!” Go to it with one. I trust John Terry has stiffened the lad’s sinews, summoned up his blood.
New Zealand v Slovakia (1-1)
FIFA’s insistence on playing out these fixtures among the world’s pre-doomed minnows is risible. One suspects that were the alternative channel to broadcast a two hour programme entitled The Unremarkable History Of The Rain Gauge, they would garner more viewers than for this. New Zealand? They are Australia’s own little Australia, for Australians to laugh at the way the rest of us laugh at Australia. As for the Slovakian anthem, it summons all of the despondency to which East Europeans are chronically addicted. It reminds of a four mile trudge to the marketplace, only to be informed that there will be no beetroots till next month.
Portugal v Ivory Coast (0-0)
A querulous encounter, this, between truculent, swarthy and as such effectively internecine adversaries. An English referee would have shot his revolver into the air by now. How typical of foreigners, however – fighting among themselves.
Hmm. Herr Beckenbauer, doubtless obeying orders, loudly asserts that English football is a matter of “kick and run”. Nothing wrong with than, I retort. Worked well for us in Empire. Kick out the incumbent, large featherhatted native in charge: Run his country.
Chile v Honduras (1-0)
The global dregs. One hopes the British Broadcasting Corporation features a two hour interview with Jamie Milner instead. Subtitled, naturally.
Spain V Switzerland (0-1)
What have the Spanish given us? Flu, fleas and practices. And that first half. A poor haul, all told.
South Africa v Uruguay (0-3)
Hmm. Those drones – like swarms of bees assailing a pondful of mallards – fall queerly silent. A message, however, to disappointed South Africa fans – do not transfer support to England. We have more than enough fans. We are full up. You will be turned away.
Greece v Nigeria (2-1)
This Nigerian team appears to be full of Nigerians. As for the Greeks, this ball might as well be an Elgin Marble, so incapable are they of retaining possession of it.
Argentina v South Korea (4-1)
Yet another Argentine handball, as is their swarthy wont. Could FIFA not institute the sanction of amputations for persistent offenders? Or at least the removal of a thumb for first time transgressors. Still, Nothing for England to fear from Argentina – a country so amusingly destitute that cattle is now their official unit of currency.
Mexico v France (2-0)
Some of these Mexicans are, I suspect, women. A senior English FA official must make it his buy viagra business to go down to the dressing room at half time to conduct a spot genitalia check on them. Perhaps two England players could accompany them. No female, with the exception of Her Majesty The Queen, could resist throwing themselves mouth first at any our players – the game would at once be up.
An interesting statistic. The Axis nations have all made a fast start to the tournament – Japan, Germany – even Italy, proud conquerors of Abyssinia, got a draw. What this all means I am uncertain, but know this – it means a great deal. And now Argentina are running rampant, the flag of their complacency hoist aloft the Goose Green of their forthcoming nemesis.
English fervour builds, but still the forces of Political Correctness and Liberal Elitism stalk the land. Just this morning, a policeman arrived at my fireside, woke me and arrested me for wearing an England shirt. Bleary but with sound instincts, I reached for my revolver and shot him in the knee. Turned out to be Seppings bringing me my mid-morning flagon of port but it nonetheless remains a disgrace.
Germany v Serbia (0-1)
The Serbians must be unaccustomed to this flat surface as the open playing space of their own country consists mainly of mass graves, across which the ball is apt to bobble.
USA v Slovenia (2-2)
2-0 down at half time, and hard to see USA recovering from its current state as a nation. Drenched in oil, humiliated by a Balkan backwater. On no account waste your energies attempting some sort of second half comeback. Instead, throw in the towel, rejoin the Commonwealth!
England v Algeria (0-0)
Who to keep goal? Can I suggest, as a gesture of lip-curled contempt for the foe, our mascot Capello, dressed in full jester’s motley?
The final whistle, and England, insofar as they remain England, are winners. Leaden, lethargic, overhyped, incompetent, clubfooted, arsefaced cunts paralysed by a bizarre mixture of arrogance and anxiety? Clearly not. Appalled, following the victory, on being rickshawed by Seppings past Trafalgar Square to see no fans dancing in the fountains this evening. Doubtless English bobbies five rows deep are being obliged to repel massed celebrants in Northumberland Avenue, lest offence be given to the Algerian ambassador. A disgrace. Fortunately, advertisements on the commercial channel strike the right tone. Children! Have a Mars bar! A burger! A Pepsi! The diet of future English World Cup winners.
Netherlands v Japan (1-0)
Queer, given their display in the recent world war, to talk of “Dutch courage”. What next, “French hygiene”? “Danish interestingness”? “Greek policework”?
Ghana v Australia (1-1)
A lot of Princes in Ghana team. Feels like cheating. We could have played Princes Harry and William, our best men yesterday,, and won even more easily. Still, the Ghanians in their expressions are evidently happy to be on the same pitch as Caucasians, even of the lower-rung, antipodean variety. As for the Australians, they have acted in accordance with what would doubtless be their Latin national emblem, were any of its countrymen capable of speaking that tongue; “Only poofs finish with eleven men.”
Astonishing news from the French camp. The French train? Shabby. England do not train. To do so is poor form and ungentlemanly. We shall see the results of this policy on the field of play, mark my words. Disgusted, also, at reports of an unauthorised person berating players in the English dressing room following the Algeria game. Capello is team mascot. He should know his place, and his duties, which largely involving the jiggling of a bladder on a stick.
Excellent to learn, however, that John Terry, now England’s player/manager is giving a team talk tonight. His authority is evident in his eyes, bearing, torso and, doubtless, scrotum.
Slovakia v Paraguay (0-2)
Slovakia, Slovenia, interchangeable. How do we know some of these Slovaks aren’t Slovenia players, sneaked in illegally? Has anyone checked? Typical Balkan ploy. Confuse the enemy by making them wonder who the hell any of you are and why the hell are you squabbling with each other when you’re all Slavs anyway, and who give a hang about what happened to your ancestors in 1173? (Not like 1066, of course, which, as England’s last defeat in any sort of field, still rankles).
As for Paraguay – I cannot remember whether goats are worshipped or eaten there, or both. Whatever it is, it is wholly unacceptable.
New Zealand v Italy (1-1)
“New” Zealand! Are you implying there was an “Old Zealand”? There was not. You are “Zealand”, near the bottom of the Directory of Nations. A draw – but do not write Italy cheap viagra off. They are apt to win the World Cup under robust, no-nonsense Fascist regimes, eg Mussolini (1934-8) and Berlusconi.
Ivory Coast v Brazil (1-3)
That Scandinavian dimwit in the dugout looks familiar. Did we not employ him once in some groundskeeping capacity? Sacked for doing nothing, apart from standing at the side of the pitch with the air of an empty car park in Stockholm?
Brazil make the game look far too easy. The art is to do as England do and make it look as difficult as it actually is.