I think that I must be the only person on the planet who is not playing Pokemon GO. I have absolutely no intention of this changing either. The point of walking around, aimlessly, staring at your mobile phone, in the hope you can “capture” a virtual creature is lost on me.
I suppose it is a bit like when you’re a kid and you go around the garden, capturing insects and putting them into a jam jar. Eventually you’ll end up with a container full of worms, woodlice, spiders and worms; all crawling and shitting over each other. At least these things are real!
Pokemon GO is actually quite a good natural selection tool. I hear some people have been injured while playing the game, hurting themselves due to the fact they have been staring at their mobile phone and not looking out for dangerous hazards. In my opinion, if you’re daft enough to walk off a cliff or fall down a well, while attempting to capture Pikachu, then you’re probably too stupid to live.
Hopefully this game will go the way of Tamagotchis and The Crazy Frog – the graveyard for crap computer animated animals.
I’m putting it out there now – it’ll end in tears. Tears and a huge pay off for Allardyce when he is sacked.
Sorry for the lack of blog in ages. I know I have said this many a time, but I’ll try to blog more frequently in future, blah blah blah…
Anyway, today’s blog is about a dream I had last night. I dreamt that I was watching Sky Sports News.
In my dream, Leeds were playing Burton Albion – a small club, who have done well of late, winning numerous promotions from non-league, all the way to The Championship, where Leeds themselves play (sadly).
Burton were beating Leeds. As with all games covered by Sky, a pundit was reporting on the match – in this case, Charlie Nicholas had invaded my dream.
Charlie was furious. Furious at the fact Leeds were playing so badly and losing to Burton Albion.
The scary thing is that when Leeds eventually do play Burton, sometime during the next 9 months, my dream could well become a reality.
I haven’t done a live football blog for a couple of years, so thought it was about time I did one. The way this works is simple – I watch a game of football on TV, and blog my thoughts as the match goes on. I know nobody will read it as it happens (it won’t even be uploaded until full time anyway) and am aware it probably won’t even be seen once the game has finished!
The match I am watching tonight is Wales against Portugal in the semi-final of Euro 2016. England are long gone from the competition, so no need to mention those losers.
I’m not sure who I want to win this one. Wales are British, and up until a week or so ago, I would have supported them without a shadow of a doubt. Then I saw their players and fans celebrating England getting knocked out. I can’t blame them. If I wasn’t English, I would be laughing too – but Wales can’t have it both ways – you can’t want England to lose, but expect the English to want you to win.
That said, whatever Wales do tonight, every single player has done themselves and their country proud. It has been a fantastic team performance and they must be commended. Well done Wales!
Then there is Portugal. I hate Portugal. They twice knocked England out of international tournaments and more importantly, have the vilest football player in the world in their ranks – Cristiano Ronaldo. If Wales win, I won’t be singing for joy, but I will snigger at Ronaldo’s tears.
Finally, before I get going, please forgive any spelling mistakes, as I am writing this on the fly!
National anthems. Wales have just done theirs. Portugal singing theirs. The same one they sung before knocking England out in Euro 2004 and the 2006 World Cup.
We’re off and I’m happy already. The game is on ITV, so that means no Robbie Savage commentating.
One minute and twenty-three seconds in. Portugal gave a player rolling around the floor in agony. Standard.
Hahaha. Ronaldo fairly tackled. Sits on his arse, arms widespread, crying to the referee. Whatever is Portuguese for “It’s not fair”, you can guarantee Ronaldo is shouting it.
As I blog, I am also having to wat my tea. This evening’s meal is southern fried chicken, chips and vegetables. I could have gone for a football related meal of Peri Peri Chicken and Welsh Lamb.
Nothing much going on. Still 0-0. I’ve been on Twitter, trying to find the score between Bath City and Chipping Sodbury in a preseason friendly. Priorities, you see.
Wales have a corner… a goal is surely imminent… Gareth Bale shoots right over the bar.
Ronaldo doing that’s stupid dancing thing with his feet. I wish somebody would break him.
I’m still watching and it’s still 0-0. OK, I lie. I have been entertaining myself watching videos on Twitter of “Things that sound better with Titanic music”.
This is so boring. The other semi-final, on tomorrow, is France against Germany. Can’t that be the final instead?
If England were in this semi-final, you’d be guaranteed goals. Granted, they would be for the opposition.
Well that was shit. It’s half time and I’m tempted to stick the tennis on. I hate tennis.
My half time interval was more productive than anything those footballers did during the first 45 minutes. I went for a wee, tidied away tea, got some chocolate yoghurt for pudding and prepared lunch for work tomorrow. As soon as I sat down to type this entry, Portugal took the lead. Ronaldo. Who else? Dammit.
The other thing I did at half time was listen to the Bath City commentary. They are drawing 1-1. Mental scenes down Chipping Sodbury!
2-0 Portugal. I think I tempted fate by criticising the first half.
I read a tweet from an England fan, telling Wales that they now know how we feel. No… the only way the Welsh would know how we feel is if their players each wiped their shitty arse on the Wales flag, in the centre circle, before feeding Tom Jones to Robbie Savage.
Ronaldo booked. If he ends up getting sent off, regardless of the result, it’ll be the greatest moment in the entire tournament.
At least it looks like there won’t be extra time. I could do with an early night.
It’s all gone quiet again. Wales burnt out and Portugal happy to see things out. Can I go to bed yet?
Wales’ Joe Allen should probably have been sent off there. It wouldn’t have made a difference to the outcome, but it would be a very English way to exit a tournament – seeing red.
All I can hear on the TV are Welsh voices singing. The fans are doing their country proud, as have their players.
The Welsh dream is over. Feel kind of sorry for them, but they been immense. Every player and supporter should be full of pride. The best football nation in Britain.
I’m not going to spend long doing this blog, as I don’t want to waste anymore of my life on the useless shower of shit that is the England National Football Team.
I’ll admit that I thought England would beat Iceland, but only because “on paper”, they should. I also had a very bad feeling about the game. A bad feeling because I have seen England teams fail time after time, in an unacceptable and humiliating fashion, during major tournaments.
The England footballers live in their own bubble, isolated from the rest of the world, where they believe that they are superior to every man, woman, child and non-English footballer. With that attitude, which has followed them around, like a fart in a car, since Euro 96, they thought they would just have to turn up in Nice and Iceland would roll over and be crushed.
Iceland had other ideas. With a population of just over 300,000 that means there are approximately 150,000 men. That leaves about 30,000 men between the age of 18 and 40 to choose from. That is less than the attendance at Elland Road. Iceland could turn up at Leeds United and pick 23 fans from the crowd, to play for them – and guess what, I bet that team would beat England too! An England side whose players get tens of thousands of pounds a week – millions of pounds a year – EACH! For what? Being English.
The England players are average, but because they’re English, cost a hell of a lot more than their superior foreign counterparts. They therefore think they are some form of football God. They’re not a God, they’re just lucky. Lucky that they live in a country which has a franchise known as The Premier League. Lucky that they’re surrounded by talented foreign players, who carry them throughout their club career, and make them look better than they are. They didn’t do anything to justify their millions, besides being born in England. If they had been born in Iceland, France or Germany, their weekly pay packet would be much smaller.
The result didn’t surprise me. I’ve seen England crash out of more tournaments than I care to remember. What did surprise me is the levels of shit they stoop to during every tournament.
The manager, Roy Hodgson has been equally embarrassing as they players. He should have left after the last World Cup, which was the most humiliating experience I have every witnessed as an England fan – until yesterday. Yes, he resigned yesterday – well fuckin’ done – Roy’s contract was up anyway. Had he had any decency, he would have resigned two years ago, but oh no, with his multi-million pound pay packet, Hodgson can revel in getting rich for failing (just like the players).
Roy was given years to find his preferred team, but even during the tournament he didn’t know his best formation or players. What a useless shit. The only thing you can guarantee is he will find a way to get Wayne Rooney into the team. England are full of average players, and Rooney isn’t even the best player in that team! He was great in Euro 2004, but that was over a decade ago!
I don’t know who will replace Hodgson. Whoever it’ll be will be the wrong appointment, as The FA never ever get it right. I really fear that they will go for Gareth Southgate – the England Under 21 manager. Southgate may have worked with the youngsters, but he has been everything the failure with them that Hodgson was with the senior flops. If the FA dare appoint Southgate, I’ve had it with them.
On this website, you’ll find me blogging (almost) daily about everyday life, living in Bath, working with computers, and the occasional bit of football stuff thrown in.
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