July 4th, 2010

The Wing Commander’s 2010 World Cup Diary – Part Two

June 21

Finally, the truth can be revealed about goings-on at the England camp – that all is well. Englishmen, redouble the number of flags attached to your wing mirrors. Foreign guest workers, clean those toilets to an even higher shine. You are also exhorted to learn our Constitution off by heart, to wit, all six verses of the National Anthem, as well as the ability to recite by rote every monarch since King Egbert. You will be deported in any case, but this wisdom will prove both instructive and helpful.

North Korea v Portugal (0-7)

Nothing less than the total annihilation of North Korea would represent a satisfactory result. As for today’s game, I am indifferent. Portugal – their best days are behind them, I feel. Prior to the 1974 coup they were thinking along the right lines. However, a cue delivered during the “Eurovision Song Contest” of that year precipitated a regrettable coup against the dictator. A further argument, to be added to repeated Balkan connivance, for the cancellation of that annual cavalcade.

June 22

France v South Africa (1-2)

And so, as in 1940, the French have tasted early defeat, the Maginot line of their defence having once again collapsed under the gentlest of prodding from first the Mexicans, and now the South Africans.

It seems that defeat can be ascribed to discord in the camp –  that the French were fighting among themselves. There is no more amusing spectacle than this. When the French fight the French, they always lose, even though it is only the French they are fighting.

On the field, they were a scattered shower. Indeed, the French have played as if hoping that members of the English and American teams would wade ashore and enter the fray to save their hides, as in happier days. And so, they were dispatched from the tournament, unloved, undone, unwashed. The final spectacle was of their man Ribery, sullen, frowning, unable to battle his way even out of his own shirt.

Argentina v Greece (2-0)

England have nothing to fear from this fellow Messi. He’s called “Lionel”, hang it all. What’s he going to do? Tap dance us into submission? Lions versus Lionels. I know whose remains will be scraped up from the den after that one.

June 23

England v Slovenia (1-0)

So FIFA are insisting this afternoon’s game goes ahead? Their pedantry defies belief and is an insult to England and their world standing, to Her Majesty, Princess Anne, the former Duchess of York and her buxom daughters. However, like Harfleur in Henry V, Slovenia have a last chance to surrender. Or else we will storm their defence, mock their women, rape their goats.

June 24

Italy v Slovakia (2-3)

Late in the game, and now PLO on the pitch, according to the commercial channel’s commentator.  A terrorist outrage afoot – the folly of hosting the World Cup in a troublesome, naive continent, as many of us predicted. Still, the game goes ahead, with Slovakia, despite only semi-existing as a country, prevailing.

As the Italians discovered in 1941, it’s a long way back home from Africa, especially nursing the sore backside of defeat. It is not my business to suggest that angry fans hang their manager by his ankles from a lamppost. However, I would advise that when pelting their returning team at the airport, they use  sun-dried, not rotten tomatoes. They squelch less but sting more.

Japan v Denmark (3-1)

Too many short teams qualifying for my liking – Korea (S), Mexico, now Japan. They must be discouraged – they will only bring things down to their level. We need some sort of sign, the like of which one gets at amusement parks. “You must be this tall to get into this round.”

Poor showing from Denmark, particularly its would-be young Prince Niklas “To be or not to be of any fucking use” Bendtner. This is why “Great Briton” is in reference to Newton, Shakespeare, Brunel, Mosley, etc and “Great Dane” is in reference to a dog. Given that all Denmark has ever contributed to civilisation is bacon, you’d think they’d have had more time to practise defending free kicks

June 25

Portugal v Brazil (0-0)

Nothing to fear from Brazil. Their manager and star player are synonymous with excrement. As for us, it is John Terry, not John Faeces, Steven Gerrard, not Steven Pile Of Shite. It is all about mobility. British movement versus bowel movement, such is what an England-Brazil final would represent.

June 26

Reminds me of the extraordinarily hot Summer of 1914 out there. But fear not, as then, the real fun of slaughter will commence soon enough, upon the morrow. I am reminded of the wistful, scratchy chimes of a ditty composed at the start of the Great War to buoy British troops, its haunting, balladic strains not dissimilar to “Come Into The Garden Maude” rendered upon an old gramophone player. It was called “Annihilate All German Scum Or Die, Die, Die Trying, You Dogs”.

Uruguay v South Korea (2-1)

Helpfully, as in their restaurants, the Koreans are identifiable by number as well as by their names. No guarantee you won’t find a dog’s tail in your soup, mind. Meanwhile, switching to the other channel, I witness confirmation that  the British Broadcasting Corporation is indeed a hotbed of homosexuals. They are currently showing the tennis. If association football is, according to the seditious Mr Orwell “war minus the shooting”, then tennis is sodomy minus the anal sex.

Ghana v USA (2-1)

Culturally jarring, no doubt, for the USA to be departing a conflict midway as opposed to entering it midway.

June 27

England v Germany (result disputed)

Nothing to read here. Keep calm, sit up square and carry on scrolling down.

June 28

Sensible of England to return home, having amply established superiority to sundry, conquered nations. FIFA can forward the trophy to FA HQ, by running boy and then by RAF helicopter to the nearest courier depot. Word reaches me, however, that mascot Capello is to be kicked out. Evidently, the England team grow weary of his flapdoodle and riddle-me-rees. Perhaps they should hire a Spaniard to amuse the team instead? Benitez the Bungler, perhaps, who could perform a routine in which he attempts to cook a paella, only for his trousers to catch fire?

Holland v Slovakia (2-1)

A low country, an even baser one. England have nothing to fear from either of these teams in the forthcoming rounds. The 57 year old bald fellow in the orange appears to present a particularly negligible threat. How, one wonders, did a codger like that get in the team? Did his son, the Minister for Sport, pull strings?

Brazil v Chile (3-0)

There is only one matter of importance in this fixture. As ITV’s commentator reminds us only barely adequately, the English referee is England’s Howard Webb, an Englishman who hails from England. The two English linesmen also hail from England, which, being English, makes sense. And so, the final score is indeed 3-0. Englishmen 3 (Webb, Linesman, Other Linesman), Foreigners nil.

June 29

Paraguay v Japan (0-0: Paraguay win 5-3 on penalties)

The Paraguayan National anthem sounds like their military falling backwards down the Palace steps en masse during a bungled coup attempt. This game is a wet paper bag and those very sporadic, muffled sounds you hear are two inferior nations failing to punch their way out of it. Uninterestingly, the referee is not English.

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