Well, at least there was one happy Englishman coming away from the game last night. Not only did I avoid swapping sandwiches for a helping of humble pie after yesterday's prediction, a sly pre-match trip to the bookies with 3 squid on the Boys from Bilic bagged me nineteen chuffing pounds fifty for the bargain!
Yep, I owe you one Barwick - you and the rest of the jokers in the Soho Square blazer brigade have got me in the money in a big way. I'm gonna live like a king next summer on nineteen and a half smackers. Who needs the Euros anyway?
In fact, I'm positively looking forward to the World Cup qualifiers after this evening's masterclass. A blissfully negative 4-5-1 at home displayed tactical nous from a mind shallower than a retarded amoeba. We had those tablecloth merchants bricking it, eh? Another corking display of ineptitude from our 'Golden Generation', I almost fell off my chair when 2 Croatians waltzed the ball past 6 'players' to go 2-nil up. Seems only Crouch, Richards and Beckham were disobeying orders by appearing to actually play some football.
So, with McClaren looking forward to Giro day, what clueless cretin are you planning to put in place so I can make a killing next time?
One piece of advice Bozza, though I'm sure you're clever enough to know this already - next time the FA spunk £757 million on a stadium with a retractable roof, any chance of getting one that actually covers the sodding pitch?
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