Sunday, July 11

remote

The remote control for the bedroom telly is wonky. At 4 a.m. I could get the picture for Germany v Uruguay but without sound. It was too cold to get out of bed and turn up the volume, so I struggled through the first half vuvuzelaless. Then I fell asleep again.

I awoke for the last half-minute, and braved the cold to turn up the commentary. The guy was saying it had been one of the best matches.

So today I went to buy a new remote, ready for the final.

My brother Beef McClochendichter wants Spain to win. For me the choice is easy. A country that gave the world dope cafes and Hirsi Ali. Or a country that gave us bull-torture and the last home of European fascism. The last time I saw Holland play was in 1982, brilliant they were. I know nothing about football but I know what I like.

3 comments:

  1. Come on the Splifferoos! Go, Cloggie! Go! On the other hand, they don't have any saints in Holland. Come on, the dwarf kafflicks! Hotboy

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  2. Surely the Cloggies practically invented Saint Nicholas?

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  3. I believe Paul the psychic octopus already has enough miracles for Canonisation.

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