This was the big day. The one we had all been waiting for. England against Italy. The last time we saw England in the World Cup, they had just been destroyed by Germany. The then goalkeeper, David James, had to bend down to pick the ball up from the back of the net so many times, that he permanently damaged his own back and was forced to retire from football. He went on to play for Bristol City, which is as good as retirement.

I warmed up for the game, by watching Uruguay against Costa Rica. Before the days of Luis Suarez, the only time I had ever heard of the county was from The Simpsons.

The England game started very late – 11pm! I made the mistake in watching the pre-match discussion on BBC, involving Gary Lineker and Alan Shearer. Not a wise move watching when you’re already tired. If they could somehow market those two pundits in pill-form, Nytol would go bust.

I stayed downstairs to watch the first half. Like everyone else in the country, Claire and I cheered when Raheem Sterling scored. I have only realised a few hours ago that his shot when wide and there was no goal.

If you are still reading, you will like football, as if you don’t, you will no doubt have read the blog title and ventured away from this blog to one of your other favourite websites, presumably MySpace or Bebo. If you are still reading, well done for not using one of those dodgy social networking sites. You’ll no doubt also know that England lost 2-1, so I won’t have to bore you with a load of shit opinion and rubbish analysis – I’ll leave that to Mr. Shearer.

Luckily, after the first half, I had crawled up to the slumbers of my bed; so once the referee blew his whistle, I was ready to sleep, while the rest of England fans fought the Italians. I did my bit today. I chucked the Dolmio in the bin.