The England National Football Team played last night. With the World Cup debacle still fresh in my memory, I simply didn’t care.
Prior to the World Cup, I may have actually gone to the match – a Friday night fixture (therefore, not clashing with any Bath City games), the nice weather and the fact I was off work – this would normally be an ideal opportunity to attend Wembley. Nowadays, turning on the TV was an effort in itself.
I will never forget the 2010 World Cup performances and it’s going to take many years for me to forgive. I can’t believe so many England supporting mugs turned up at Wembley last night – over 73,000 of them!
As the goals were scored, I glared on, like a bitter ex-boyfriend, watching his former partner kissing a new lover. I was even hoping for Bulgaria to nick a goal. At least had the Bulgarians won the game, Fabio Crapello (the name, which I predicted and copyrighted way back in 2007) would have moved closer to getting the sack.
As we all know now, England won the game 4-0. Everyone was happy. Not me. I wouldn’t have been happy had England won 20-0. I know we’ll be let down again. Taking England back into my heart is like Cheryl Cole giving Ashley one more chance. You just know it’ll end in further heartache.
Can England ever win me back? Of course! Get rid of Crapello, permanently drop the vast majority of the losers from the World Cup squad and sack the FA board. Is that going to happen? No. Fuck you England, then.
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About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
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