For the flag and St George

Jun 06, 2006 15:13

The St. George's flag is now flying in my back garden.

Which now means England's World Cup campaign is officially cursed.

I'm patriotic, but I'm also English, which means I'm also filled with a sense of crushing inevitibility. I'm reminded of the film 'Mike Bassett', where a fictional England team is welcomed back from the World Cup as heroes after reaching the semi-finals.

We don't half like our gallant losers. Ooh, I'm a cheerful old soul today.

My creativity, or what's left of it, has once again deserted me for the time being. Which is why my posts are filled with drivel about footy.

Here' a poem (or limerick if you will) to get me back on track. Hmmmmm.....

There once was a young un called Wayne
whose foot was in terrible pain
He went to phone Sven
who told him there & then
Get your f**kin arse on that plane

The fourth line doesn't flow properly, and I'm not sure Sven even knows the 'F' word, unless it's something to do with FA secretarys, but for something created in 30 seconds, I think this jolly well rocks.

To quote Blackadder: 'Well, it started off badly, tailed off a bit in the middle, and the less said about the end the better. But, apart from that, excellent'.
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