29.06.2010 - 2:01 p.m.

At last for you tommy, ze football iz over, and thank fuck for that, one of the houses that backs on to us had procured some vuvuzelas, assumedly in preparation for the stunning success of the england team, i knew they had bought them because they've been 'test' blowing them on and off since last thursday, come sunday afternoon the neighbourhood was strangely silent, funny that. I love the sound of silence.

A particularly funny thing is that i work for a german company, and it's not a bad place to work, however my manager was summoned last week to germany for a meeting yesterday, no doubt great fun will have been had at our national expense, had i been there i would have laughed it off, but as the manager is a committed football person, each joke would have stung, ha fucking ha.

Now starts all the recriminations and finger pointing, the manager thinks he should stay in the job because he's earning six million a year, no doubt millions of fans will demand he goes, but the fans are rarely right even though they all think they can manage a national team better than him, in reality the average 'fan' would be so out of his depth as an international football manager it would be hilarious, years of playing 'football manager' on various consoles counts for jack shit except getting their hopes up that they might not be a floundering embarrassment, but they would be.

Also now the reasons for why they failed are being generated, they range from the blindingly obvious but hard to swallow

- the other teams are better than us

to the slightly less plausible

- it's the fans blowing their horns and distracting us

to the downright stupid

- the players have had to play too many domestic games this year and they're tired

Poor wittle lambikins, has de nasty man made you wun awound for too long. These people are allegedly international class athletes, my workmate (who's a little more knowledgeable on this subject) counted up and said that they'd play in the region of 38-40 games per year, and then add the world cup which adds up to less than 100hours of actual work a year. For this most of them bring home 20-70 thousand a week (WEEK) it would seem that i was correct all along and footballers are the gayest of all sportsmen

(disclaimer - the term 'gayest' is used here in its originally accepted schoolboy insult form, whereby it means stupid or useless, quite why the LGBT community thought it would adequately describe a homosexual person i'm still not sure)

Footballers are mostly well known for -

showing off via the medium of conspicuous consumption
fighting in bars
vacuous clothes-horse girlfriends

If you've not got a �500 haircut, a five grand suit and two hundred grand car, then you're not a footballer, otherwise you'd have all these things and a horribly vulgar mock tudor mansion to keep them all in. We did a quick comparison with some sporting events, a tour de france rider spends about 8 hours a day in the saddle, eddie izzard ran forever (i think he's still going), those tennis guys played for ten hours (although i think it's wrong to stop when the light fades, wimbledon should install some million watt floodlights and they should be made to play until one collapses of exhaustion)

What it comes down to is a bunch of self aggrandising snoflakes from the various strata of society whining and bitching that it's not their fault. I have already accepted that they were just not good enough, it was obvious when they lost so heavily, but that won't be enough to satiate the bloodlust currently being experienced by the fans. After all, it was they who invested their emotion into the team and they expected a dividend, because they wanted to win, even if it meant just watching someone else do the work and basking in the reflected glory (which is the english way) they BELIEVED in them and were let down, how could you let US down like that, after WE BELIEVED in you.

As i was driving home sunday afternoon (after a highly profitable few hours of tree surgery) i drove past the pub near us and it was filled, filled it was, with tubby-to-fat men with shaved heads all wearing shorts and various descriptions of white polo shirts with the collars up, and this is the best bit, none of them were singing or dancing about or blowing horns (although i couldn't see into the toilets), their misery buoyed me up immeasurably, stupid fucking clones.

Seeing those tossers, those emotionally stunted failures unhappy is what makes me happy, because when they're happy, boisterous even, it makes me sad to even be identified in the same gender as them, anyone who rates their priorities (and i've heard this first hand) as football, froth, fanny (or sometimes football, fanny, froth, but not often) and gets all moody when the football's not going their way deserves to made miserable by the thing they love the most. And also strikes me as a little gay (i.e. homosexual), if you'd rather spend time in the company of men, getting drunk in the company of men, crushed together in the dark in a sweaty bar to watch some other men kicking a ball around, than with a woman then i think this calls your orientation into question.

No doubt there are a large number of wives who are happy that the fat, balding moron they have to share a house with has fucked off for the afternoon giving them some time to spend having drinks with the strapping young male colleague from work while 'out shopping', because any man who's desperate to get 'down the pub' won't question when 'she goes shopping' and is likely to return home drunk anyway so won't notice the happy smile she's wearing which vanishes the minute she sees her moron face down on the sofa snoring loudly.

If this monologue were being played out in the aforementioned dark, sweaty bar i'd (at the very least) be on the receiving end of names such as 'queer, pussy, fucking homo' etc and were i to point out that i'd rather be balls deep in my wife (or if unmarried, their wives) than in this bar watching football, that makes me the clearly straight one, such cunning logic is usually too much for the committed sports fan who gets by mostly on shouting.

The other epithet that gets trotted out at these times is that i'm un-patriotic, i don't love my country because i don't support the foot-the-ball team with every shred of my emotive being, and from there were a short hop skip jump to Godwin's law and i'm being chased out of town by angry villagers. If i tried to point out that following football doesn't make one patriotic i'd probably be met with blank stares, if i pulled out some flash cards and a chalkboard to further show the difference between patriotism and mindless sport orientated hyperbolic nationalism i'd be labeled as an elitist snob ('o finks 'es better 'an us) and chased out by angry villagers, either way the villagers are angry.

I'd try pointing out that i'm a monarchist and even a royalist, that i'd made a pledge of allegiance in the presence of my peers to the United Kingdom, the Crown and all its heirs and successors, that i'm glad we're not a republic (president blair, can you think of anything worse - alright president brown, now do you feel sick ?) I'm glad that the crown is there as a check to the rampant, greedy shittiness that is the political system squirming beneath the Queen. How many of you malt swilling tubs of lard can say the same, they might say "i luv da queen, gawd bless 'er" in public but how many moan to their mates whenever the crown's annual running costs are published in the Sun, how many refer to them as german inbred parasites in a desperate attempt to appear modern or slightly topical or (shudder) funny.

But i suppose none of that would matter because if you don't like sport you're labeled as half a man, or at the very least, a bit odd. But only by other men who are already willfully immersed in sporting life, but if i was to start giving a slippery fuck what anyone else thought of me i'd be a nervous, insecure wreck, the best part of life is dismissing the opinions of retards, preferably to their faces, and if you can, with a wave of the hand while saying 'pah'.