If I'm totally honest, I'm quite glad England are out of the World Cup. Only because it serves them right.
It's the relentless hype in the run-up, all this bravado about how we can win it, should win it, deserve to win it. Then there's all the silly superstitions about how this and that happened in 1966 so therefore it's a good omen. But of course we're shit and we know we are, so here we are embarrassingly dumped out of the competition. Was I alone in snapping my vuvuzela over my knee?
I think I really hate Wayne Rooney. The spud-faced nipper is defiantly rude. One of only two players not singing the National Anthem in some misguided show of defiance. Actually he's probably too thick to know the words. Then marching past the press, headphones in, face like thunder like their shame was someone else's fault. But at the end of the day, as they say in the football world, that lardy git let us all down.
You know, we put up with their immoral behaviour, their show-pony WAGS, their vanity and their seven-figure salaries, and what do we get in return? We're expected to support them every step of the way and we get nothing. And as for the manager, don't even start me. Six million nicker! It's an outrage. Blimey, anyone would think I actually cared.
So now we're back to normal. The England flags will be coming down all over Britain and supermarkets pretending those hugely pricey marketing spends never happened. We knew it was going to end this way really, didn't we?
