Sunday, December 05, 2010

Мой сарай сада большле чем это

I found myself strangely moved this week. I felt twinges of national pride and patriotism, which, regular readers (aMToNW) will recognise, I normally eschew. 


I allude, of course, to the brave bid by the Football Association to have the competition for the 2018 football World Cup hosted in this fine country. 


I will pause here to allow those who want to argue about whether I should have said “football” or “soccer” or “association football” in order to please the pedants and foreigners in your midst. Having dismissed such prattling I will move on.


“Why Scurra”, I hear you query, “were you so moved?” “Well, dear reader”, I hear myself respond, “allow me to explain”. 


I felt very proud to be linked to a nation who thought that when it was important to show the international community our seriousness, our compassion, our understanding of the need to modernise, our wisdom and our all-round jollygoodchapness, we should despatch as our ambassadors David Cameron, young Bill Saxe-Coburg-Gotha and David Beckham. 


Before I get carried away, I should point out that I have no dislike of young Beckham, he was a fine footballer, and has done some good things. However, he is thick - very dumb indeed. It is not his fault. That is all.


The English have decided that their three ambassadors should include two inbred, upper class throwbacks, two thickos, two slimy gits, two people with no knowledge of football, and two people whose main fame is to provide the mass media with tedious stories about their tedious lives. Just in case this did not work, and most other nations, even had they managed to assemble such an august spearhead, would not have thought of this, they searched the kingdom for someone who embodied all of the above qualities. Thus, it was no surprise to see old Boris accompanying the team. 


Once again, Britannia has shown the way. The fact that these foreign chaps failed to recognise the glory and awarded the tournament to the Russians is perhaps an indication of just how inferior some of these people are, and we are perhaps better off not having to accommodate their footballers.

9 comments:

Christopher said...

*Scratches head. Wonders what V.'s 'palatial garden' is bigger than. Beckham's brain? A pointless comparison. The Almanach de Gotha? Very obscure. Nope. Doesn't like to admit it, but is euchred.*

Vicus Scurra said...

I was afraid that my reliance upon Babelfish has let me down. It was meant to be a translation of "my garden shed is bigger than this", a refrain sung by English football supporters when less than impressed with the facilities at stadia they are visiting.

Geoff said...

I've seen Camo and Willsy playing keepy uppy. Keepy uppy with the neighbours.

Tim F said...

I note without comment that part of the FA’s sales pitch was the inclusive, multicultural, anyone-welcome video of UK plc (the one the Daily Mail complained about) but the whole thing was fronted by three straight, white, male millionaires, two of whom went to the same school.

english inukshuk said...

Я не имею садовый сарай. Вы очень льготных условиях. Вы понимаете, как вам повезло? Остановить стоны о футболе!

мира, Любовь и поцелуи, Мне нравится вид.

Dave said...

Thank you for drawing this 'news' item to my attention, as I would otherwise have missed it, being more interested at the moment in England's national sport, taking place Down Under.*



*This is not a reference to sex.

Rol said...

What is this "football" to which you refer?

Richard said...

I'm afraid the thing left me cold. The world's second most hated man, a symbol of our oppressive colonial heritage and a footballer who plays in America and Italy. The clip from the presentation included footage of that great Englishman, Didier Drogba, scoring and also the most mawkish piece of wince-inducing crap about the bloke from Manchester rising from the ghetto because of football. My god that's been all over the news up here, you'd think he'd killed Bin Laden. Who the hell was that meant to impress? Presumably our bid committee had never heard of either Pelé or Maradona.

The Mistress said...

Would you like some ointment for that twinge?