Wednesday, May 21, 2008

The Champions League of Extraordinary Fuckwits


Honestly, I could not care less about the Champions League final. Firstly, English soccer ball has gotten so boring that I would honestly get more enjoyment from imagining the application of paper-cuts to my penis. And the takeovers and the big budget transfers etc, tonight’s match will be like watching two shopping centre’s battle it out for worldwide domination. Then there’s the Ronaldo factor. He’s an annoyingly hyped up foot-swinger, with a neck you could have skiing lessons on, that is so feted upon in the British press that it’d have Princess Diana revolving in her grave.

However, my main issue with this ‘Theatre of Screams’, is the fans. All week I’ve listened to moronic comments from people who are literally hanging onto the bumper of the bandwagon as it screams past, grabbing everybody in its wake. Colleagues are taking tomorrow off so they can go out, get drunk and celebrate. People are leaving early so they can go home replicate tonight’s match on FIFA 08, and possibly masturbate to replays of Wayne Rooney scoring the winning penalty.

The girls too. Traditionally into field hockey and curtains, have now began to wear soccer jerseys rather than pretty frocks. They’ve replaced posters of The Carter Twins with ones of Ryan Giggs. They’ve even started to go to pubs.

And the ill-informed. Those who’ll be asking what colour Manchester Celtics are wearing tonight, and if a Try is worth the same amount as a Bulls-eye. They’ll be out in the pubs in force, drinking alcohol, from glasses and the like. “Do horses ever play football” they’ll ask. “Where’s Barry McGuigan?”.

And tomorrow. I will have to turn up the gauge on my bullshit spouter tomorrow, when I pretend I saw the game. I’m generally good at this so it shouldn’t be a problem, but in a perfect world I should be able to admit “No, I was actually watching Grand Designs in a high state of nakedness’. Instead I will have to reprise my ‘Go Sports!’ quote and further furnish my house of lies with a little ‘The scoreboard never lies!’ and ‘There was a lot of tactics on that pitch’..

Last Sunday, I took my nephew to see an eircom League of Ireland match. A real football match. We sat in the Sun. We watched an entertaining soccer game. We ate Leo Burdocks at both half time AND full time. We joined in on some of the songs. He got to touch the ball when it came into the stand. He got to see Glen Crowe, who he knows from his FIFA 08 game.

And we had a ball.

Tonight? You're having a laugh

6 comments:

Twenty Major said...

I hope they both lose/die. Whichever.

National Disgrace said...

Even just for some of them to burst into flames or something...

Thriftcriminal said...

Won't scourge my eyeballs with one nanosecond of the shite. Reaper is on anyway.

ger said...

As a person who is physically sickened by most sports, I find it useful to have some stock phrases to ease the revulsion when the canteen-speak turns inevitably to "The Game Last Night".

..."How about that recent sporting event?"
...or the ever-versatile "Go Local Team!"
..."I cried - I cried a lot."
... and, if pushed, "I openly question the veracity of some of that referee's decisions." (You need to roll your eyes when saying this though, you don't want to appear stupid).

...I find these are enough to get me through the day without repeatedly slamming someone's head into the tea-machine. Mostly.

Thriftcriminal said...

Reaper was pretty funny. So was Big Bang theory. Hey, at least I didn't do what my colleague did and allow Sex in the City to be watched instead.

Rosie said...

Adventures in Architechture was on and Cruickshank was waxing lyrical about penises and Palladian columns. much more exciting.