England friendlies - like sex with an AIDS victim

I reckon everyone knows at least one guy, who they would bet on knowingly shagging a hot, but gonorrhea-ridden woman, if plied with enough booze. I compare this with watching England friendlies. In the long run you know it's not going to do you any good, but some carnal element of your sub conscious leaves you no choice. So I'd imagine.

You know you're in for a shit time even before the game kicks off, when the build up hysterically hypes the opposition, who could be barely more than a mud patch in the Pacific islands, populated by crabs and ITV would still make them out to be a potential banana skin. This clearly sets out the agenda, don't get your hopes up because we may well get turned over by this bunch of part time goat herders and you'll only end up turning over to a re-run of Top Gear on Dave ja vu and missing all our wonderful advertising.

And yet, knowing this, I still turn into some enforced lobotomy victim every evening England play one of these meaningless fixtures. Even if I have miraculously avoided all potential warnings that the game is going to occur, I will find myself picking up the remote at the exact point the dreary build up begins. Alan Hansen, sitting on the sofa looking like a manic depressive testicle, bitching mercilessly about the latest player who has slightly misjudged a header.

Tonight, John Terry has been getting booed by some of the crowd. Though his form has been poor recently and hasn't been great tonight so far, it goes without saying that the jeers are referencing where he has put his penis rather than anything remotely related to his footballing ability. Who directed these X-factor mongoloids from the sterilization centre to Wembly? When did what someone does in their personal life, as reported by the guttural press, become grounds for booing a guy playing for your team? The hypocrisy stinks like a hangover fart. I'll bet the majority of these mindless wank stains still worship Paul Gascoigne, even though he beat seven shades of shit out of his wife. For some reason we now seem to have a situation where guys on a field, playing a game, are judged beyond that and on things the papers tell us, as opposed to anything we can evaluate with our own eyes.

If I want to judge a footballer, I'll do so on how he plays football. Which is why I always watch my team, Woking F. C, with a bag full of half bricks.