Will England Win The World Cup?
In short… no.
It would be nice if they did, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see them win! I mean, a large part of me just wouldn’t care. That part of me that thinks, brilliant no traffic or crowds at the shops! And equally thinks I’ll just stay in tonight so I don’t have to run a gauntlet of drunken, leary men.
But realistically, it’s not going to happen. Because of things like altitude and injuries which are dogging the team, not to mention shitty goal-keeping, yet for once we seemed to have a no-nonsense decent manager. See, I do understand the footy. I understand the offside rule and everything (news flash: it’s not rocket science). I just don’t care.
I can understand why people get excited and that fun feeling of being united, national pride and competitive spirit. But really, when it comes down to it, isn’t it just another excuse for people to drink a lot and fanny about?
My mum watches the football. I don’t for one minute beleive that she cares one jot either. However, as a couple you should try and share each others interests and it means that she can spend some time with Dad instead of being a widow of both the golf and footy variety. She never used to watch it. I noticed a change one day. She’d watch patiently and coo something appropriate at the right time, “ooo, that was a good shot.” Mum, if you really liked the footy you’d go Delia Smith on us, paint the England cross on your face and run around town in your bra picking fights with skinheads.
Do you think Dad watches Coronation Street?
I don’t want to feign an interest in football any more than I want to be a “ladette.” Is this what feminism was aiming for? No, obviously being a feminist these days is all about joining the W.I in an ironic way and dressing 50s because it’s retro and knitting and baking because old school skills are so hot right now. Darling, ladette-ism is so… so, 90s! In the year 2010 being feminist is all about linking yourself somehow back to baking.
That’s not really me.
On the upside, there are always some interesting ad campaigns around the footy season. Men are so sentimental about these things. Really, they are just big, squishy piles of cotton wool. Covered in hair.
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