I Fucking Love You Gumbo!

Sunday, 27 June 2010

Ooooooooh, close but no lard!

How goes it manjitas? Looks like a bigun on the horizon, squeeky bum time, ring-piece like a blood orange etc. We the few, love a game like this and expect one every international tournament, but it doesn't normally come as early on as this.
David James was quoted in the Grundyard yesterday saying that they were pleased with the prospect of facing the Gurmins, as Ghana are a better footballing team. Well, that was probably mind games, but after watching the Ghana forwards last night shoulder barge the seemingly futile attempts of the septic's centrebacks into row z, he may have had a point.
Milner will again be on the right, one hopes.....Oh christ on a bike, I can't do any more of this fucking shit, writing about fucking England. Too nervous, dizzy on coffee, my son's singing (he has the face of an angel but the voice of a charlatan), so I'm out of here.
I'll be watching the game with family and friends in my native village, back east in Worstead. Whilst I'm tapping this out on Dad's laptop (why are there so many pubes on his keyboard)I'm gazing at the rolling sun bleached grassy fields in this most beautiful of places. Memories of a sun drenched youth, eating corn fresh from the fields (with added fertilizer), sneaky snout smoking behind the delapidated shed by the cricket boundry, selling my first wrap of wizz to two fourteen year olds, trying to bum my then girlfriend against the wall of the Queen Elizabeth hall and failing, raping that holiday making couple from Dorset and then cutting them up and burying them on the outskirts of the village by the train station (not true -ed).
Oh the memories of my England, what is there not to be proud of? Thatcher, imperialism, track suits, big brother, Jeremy Clarkson and an international football team rammed to the hilt with cuntage.
COME ON ENGLAND!

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