Football's coming home

I'm not crazy about football. I think I've mentioned this previously. So the World Cup and other assorted tournaments, are torture for me. Yes, I go see my friends play in their League matches, but that's different. Even when Trinidad qualified, I couldn't bring myself to watch their games, I was so nervous. But I did proudly sport my Soca Warrior t-shirt.

However, living in England, it's hard to escape football. The English have this sense of superiority when it comes to football. I mean, yes they invented the game, and yes they won the World Cup. But that was once...44 bloody years ago. And they still won't stop going on about it. They haven't won a major tournament since, or even reached the final round! Yet, to hear them talk, the only reason they haven't won is because the rest of the world is against them. It's the refs, the linesmen, the press, the fans. The ball is too light, the pitch is too poor, the altitude is too high. Our shorts were too short, the shorts were too long, the t-shirts were too tight. Blah, blah, blah! The truth is, the team just isn't good enough. They aren't good enough to beat Argentina (the fucking Hand of God gets trotted out EVERY World Cup campaign, as if THAT was the reason why they didn't win in 1986. Steups!), they aren't good enough to beat France, they aren't good enough to beat Spain. I mean, FFS, they could only muster a 2-0 win over Trinidad...and that was after a goalless first half! What the hell makes them think they can overpower Brazil, Germany or Argentina?

Anyway, they stumbled through the group stages, much to their embarassment. It was funny to watch, because I remember they were so cocky after the draw. The husband and I were in Ireland and The Sun had on it's front page the day after the draw-

England
Algeria
Slovenia
Yanks

They thought they'd piss the group stages, storm through the knockouts and quarter-finals and arrive at the semis, where the real work would begin. But sadly (or happily if you're not an England fan), twas not to be. They could only muster a 1-1 draw with said Yanks, a 0-0 draw with Algeria and a 1-0 win over Slovenia. Yes, quite the footballing powerhouse. So they limped through to the knockout stages, not even as winners of their group. Yes, the Yanks who they derided so early on, managed to beat them. So, it was on to Germany; their footballing nemesis.

I read my Saturday paper yesterday. I like to leave it a couple days, for when the boredom truly kicks in. It made for hilarious reading though. The Sport section had the headline "We are a better team than Germany and we will beat them". This little prediction came from the goalkeeper, David James, who is actually one of the better-looking men on the team. Oh, how we laughed. Why?

Well, on Sunday, they were thrashed 4-1 by said German side. Despite all the jingoism in the press, harking back to fecking WW2 (two twats even turned up at the game dressed as RAF officers) and England's last victory on a world stage (bloody 1966), England lost and they lost badly. So they were out, and out in a most humiliating fashion. But I'm a bit sad that they're out. I can almost see your double take, dear reader. Why the hell am I sad, that a bunch of cocky, overpaid and overrated footballers have lost?

Well, it means that life has gone back to normal here in Merrie Olde England. On Sunday, I went to the Trafford Centre to exchange our kettle. I live life on the edge. But I thought Sunday would be an ideal time, since the rest of the country would be glued to their tellies. My need to go out was further encouraged by the sight of my neighbours erecting a gazebo in their front garden, and hanging a large England flag out of a window on the top floor of their house. Apparently, the eight flags on his car weren't enough. When I saw him dragging the bbq out of his shed, I mentally planned what I was going to wear and hit the showers.

Oh, and what a magical afternoon it turned out to be. The roads were clear, I had my pick of parking spots right outside the entrance and there were no queues in the shops. The only downside, was that all the staff in John Lewis were glued to the tv screens. I was able to wander around without being touched by some sweaty man in an ugly shirt and trackie bottoms. It took me two minutes to get a green tea in Starbucks, and there were loads of seats if I'd wanted to stay. I didn't have to push my way through any crowds in Marks and Spencer's to get a decent look at the food.

In short, it was bliss.

But because of the general shittiness of the England team, I shall never have another afternoon like that again. Well, at least not for another four years...provided England even bloody qualify for Brazil!

So I shall remember Sunday 27th of June with great fondness and nostalgia. You shall always be in my heart. Football's coming home, a trifle too early and not in the way they meant when they sang that song (which is so catchy, I'm humming it as I type).

Bless the little losers.

...and I would've gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for those pesky kids!

I'm old.

I'm not even thirty yet, but I'm old. How have I come to this conclusion? Well, Friday night, "Ferris Beuller's Day Off" was on. I remember when I first saw that movie and how much I loved it. I loved it so much, I even watched the mega-lame series (that actually starred a pre-friends Jennifer Aniston). I mean, this guy managed to trick all the adults in his life, and his annoying sister always lost out. But she ended up hooking up with Charlie Sheen, when he was still hot and before he, um, lost his way.

So I left it on Film4 and decided to watch it. I shouldn't have done that.

I HATED it this time around. I hated it so much, I switched over about half-an hour into it, to watch an episode of "Mock the Week" I must have seen about fifty bajillion times (thanks Dave). But why did I hate it so much? Well, in the ten years or so since I last properly watched the movie, Ferris turned into a bit of a little shit! Why do his parents believe him, and not Jeannie? Jeannie is a bit mean, yes. But she seems to be fairly honest with the people around her. Why is Ferris so mean to Cameron? He's a bit of a bully and a narcissist. The Dean of Students is a bit of a penis, I'll admit. But he's just trying to do his job, which is ten times harder, because of twats like Ferris, who think it's their right to skip school and steal classic cars. And what irked me more than anything, was that he never got his comeuppance. He just got away with it! Life isn't like that.

So that got me thinking, have I skipped my thirties, forties, fifties, sixties and seventies and jumped straight to my eighties and my curmodgeonly years? Why am I so crotchety? I mean, Ferris is just a fictional character. Then it hit me. I'm no longer that movie's target audience. I've outgrown it, as I've outgrown a lot of other things. But even more worrying, was the realisation that I'm turning into my mother! This is the kind of show my mother would roll her eyes and steups at, refusing to believe the antics on screen. And now I find myself doing the same.

Sigh! Who knew growing up would mean you lose part of your sense of humour? Luckily for me, I still find fart and poo jokes funny, so I won't lose all hope just yet!