Yes, okay, I crumbled like I always do and watched the England bit of the World Cup. I can't help but find it quite exciting really.
It all takes me back to a time in 1990 when a few of us from work went on a night out. We found ourselves in Islington where the streets were all but empty. We couldn't work out why - until we heard football coming from every pub and bar we passed. Then it dawned on us that this was England's semi-final game and we really should be watching it.
Up to this point, not being a football fan, I had dipped into the World Cup but I wasn't quite so caught up in it. But 1990 was the World Cup to change everything. That's when it really took off among the middle classes, and why you now read silly things like some ad agency art director who'd die if he couldn't see his beloved Gooners of a Saturday. Yeah, right. It's all spiralled out of control until people pretend to follow a team because everyone else does and they don't want to be left out, or it's bad for business.
Anyway, we wandered the streets but we couldn't get in anywhere. Eventually we found a back street, rather rough, boozer where the only place to sit was on the floor, which we did. But it turned out to be one of the most fun nights ever, despite England losing. The atmosphere was electric. But I was quite glad to leave that pub.
Another footy-related fun night was watching England beat Holland in a pub during Euro '96. [Edit: World Cup 98, I have been told]. Yes, that was me standing on the table leading the singing of Vindaloo and Three Lions. What happens during a tournament, stays during a tournament, okay?
Anyway, I've only watched one match. That dreadful bluebottle-trapped-in-a-jam-jar noise drove me crazy. It's almost unwatchable. Ban the vuvuzele now!
At least there's no Nessun Dorma, though.
