World Cup Whinge

Excited about the World Cup? Not me. I loathe soccer/football. I refuse to get excited even when Australia play in the World Cup. It’s not just that you can’t enjoy a beer at a live match, or stand peacefully next to someone supporting the other team or that the players fall over a lot and pretend to be in pain. No. It’s that supporters tend to be a bit fanatical.
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Uh huh.
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Too much? Nooo…
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It’s not limited to buildings either. Every other car has those daft flags flapping away and wing mirrors covered with the red cross. The mood of the entire nation seems dependant on a bunch of overpaid actors to successfully kick a ball about. Of course, when they don’t kick it well enough, it’s not even their fault – whoever is managing them will invariably get sacked. Which seems like an excellent way to be employed – in my profession, if I suck at my job it’s normally me that gets the chop, just saying.

I can only hope England are their reliably under performing regular self and that we bow out in the group stage so everyone can put the fucking flags away for another four years.

This entry was posted in Fool Britannia, Oh God Why?, Shit People Do, Things That Shit Me, This Expat Life, UK Life. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to World Cup Whinge

  1. Bardon says:

    The English are very good at the self mutilation in defeat though I admire their honed skills in this regard, it must be due to the hundreds of years first hand experience. If Scotland vote for and get independence little England will be shown for what it really is.

    • vegemitewife says:

      I don’t think the Scots will actually get independence. Not because it isn’t openly available to them but because the don’t have the collective motivation. These are no longer a braveheart people. I think they’ll keep themselves in Britain as it’s less effort; they simply cannae be bothered.

  2. Bardon says:

    Given that its a Germany V Argentina in the final today, I guess this wound be one of those times that the average English soccer fan barracks for the Hun. I nearly got thrown off a North Sea Rig when Maradonna skillfully hand balled a goal against the poms and put them out of the World Cup. That was bad enough for the poms on baord, then I convinced the night baker to put a “Viva las Malvians” print on the top of the morning loaves, that was when it got testy.

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