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Ever get the impression that everything English is just pure crap?
Yes, this rant stems from yesterday’s unpleasant football fiasco where we were robbed by a stupid referee with a bleached blonde beard. Though football is perhaps one of the biggest businesses on Earth, players are worth millions, stadiums worth billions and the advertising rights are like golddust, the sport is still caught up in the mid fifties as far as technology goes. The only real development that has been made is the increase in sponsorship and the balls are approximately 18.5% funkier than they were. Though a sport like rugby that is violent, brutal and probably soon to be deemed politically incorrect is about 50 years more advanced that football.
“Why are you hurting our fragile football-loving ears with these cruel words, Para?” I hear you cry. Because rugby has realised that fans get angry if the referee makes a wrong decision and so if the referee isn’t sure of something, the event is viewed on a big screen and the decision analysed by a panel of off-field referees. Instead of the referee claiming Terry fouled/groped/hurt the feelings of the Portuguese keeper, the decision could have been viewed and England could have had a goal they rightly deserved.
Whilst we’re on the subject, I’ll take a pop at Beckham too. Not only because he’s a tabloid plaything who hogs the media spotlight because they think we care who he is banging or what he is wearing, but also because he’s absolutely crap. He is supposed to be the captain of the England team. Now lets see what Dictionary.com thinks a captain is defined as:
Captain:
1. Abbr. Capt. One who commands, leads, or guides others
In the match last night did David Beckham look particularly commanding? Was he rallying the players to attack and defend when they needed to, or did he prance about doing absolutely nothing? I favour the latter. The only person on the England team who did anything close to captaining was David James, who commanded his defence and did well to guide them into shutting down the torrent of Portuguese attacks. Perhaps Beckham is too scared to open his mouth and tell the players what to do because he sounds about seven years old; or perhaps he is in the position of captain because Hello! and OK! magazine say he should; and he doesn’t actually have any idea what the hell he is doing there. Either way, he should no longer be captain, he should join Southgate in the pit of eternal penalty-messing-up torture and never represent my country again.
Reverting back to my original point of England being rubbish at everything – lets now take a firm dig at Tim Henman. “Tiger Tim” the tabloids print, unaware of their lame untruth. He’s anything but a tiger; he’s a spoilt pasty-white rich boy who swings the racket feebly with his limp wrists, then crashes out of the tournament to the devastation of the aristocratic strawberry guzzling spectators and Persil, who are probably the only people in the world actually stupid enough to pay him. No, The Sun, Mr. Henman isn’t a tiger at all; he is built up every year by the tabloids then beaten by some foreign unknown who can actually play tennis. If you have to compare him to an animal please be realistic and perhaps dub him Tim the feeble sparrow.
Even age-old British institutions are crap. Royal Mail lost a parcel that I posted to an eBay member, only to resurface 3 months late. I complained after 2 weeks that they’d lost my parcel and threatened to cut their feet off to no avail, so after 3 weeks I made a more polite complaint without using expletives and references to “the guy who gets shot in the face in Pulp Fiction”, and got a response a further 6 weeks later that basically said “oops, we’ll go look”. The eBay guy emailed me after 3 months and told me he’d finally got the parcel and so I flooded the Royal Mail served (that can only seemingly handle 3 emails at a time before breaking like Beckham at a spelling contest) with requests that they apologise to me formally and confess to being crap. They sent me a personal letter of apology and two books of first class stamps. The lesson is bug people until they give you free stuff.
I cant even be bothered to delve into the troubling prospects of joining the EU, the Euro and the influence America is having over Tony ‘Puppet on a string’ Blair. I hope Kilroy becomes grand senator of the world and builds his own Arian supremacy; well I don’t hope… but anything is better than this.
Yes, this rant stems from yesterday’s unpleasant football fiasco where we were robbed by a stupid referee with a bleached blonde beard. Though football is perhaps one of the biggest businesses on Earth, players are worth millions, stadiums worth billions and the advertising rights are like golddust, the sport is still caught up in the mid fifties as far as technology goes. The only real development that has been made is the increase in sponsorship and the balls are approximately 18.5% funkier than they were. Though a sport like rugby that is violent, brutal and probably soon to be deemed politically incorrect is about 50 years more advanced that football.
“Why are you hurting our fragile football-loving ears with these cruel words, Para?” I hear you cry. Because rugby has realised that fans get angry if the referee makes a wrong decision and so if the referee isn’t sure of something, the event is viewed on a big screen and the decision analysed by a panel of off-field referees. Instead of the referee claiming Terry fouled/groped/hurt the feelings of the Portuguese keeper, the decision could have been viewed and England could have had a goal they rightly deserved.
Whilst we’re on the subject, I’ll take a pop at Beckham too. Not only because he’s a tabloid plaything who hogs the media spotlight because they think we care who he is banging or what he is wearing, but also because he’s absolutely crap. He is supposed to be the captain of the England team. Now lets see what Dictionary.com thinks a captain is defined as:
Captain:
1. Abbr. Capt. One who commands, leads, or guides others
In the match last night did David Beckham look particularly commanding? Was he rallying the players to attack and defend when they needed to, or did he prance about doing absolutely nothing? I favour the latter. The only person on the England team who did anything close to captaining was David James, who commanded his defence and did well to guide them into shutting down the torrent of Portuguese attacks. Perhaps Beckham is too scared to open his mouth and tell the players what to do because he sounds about seven years old; or perhaps he is in the position of captain because Hello! and OK! magazine say he should; and he doesn’t actually have any idea what the hell he is doing there. Either way, he should no longer be captain, he should join Southgate in the pit of eternal penalty-messing-up torture and never represent my country again.
Reverting back to my original point of England being rubbish at everything – lets now take a firm dig at Tim Henman. “Tiger Tim” the tabloids print, unaware of their lame untruth. He’s anything but a tiger; he’s a spoilt pasty-white rich boy who swings the racket feebly with his limp wrists, then crashes out of the tournament to the devastation of the aristocratic strawberry guzzling spectators and Persil, who are probably the only people in the world actually stupid enough to pay him. No, The Sun, Mr. Henman isn’t a tiger at all; he is built up every year by the tabloids then beaten by some foreign unknown who can actually play tennis. If you have to compare him to an animal please be realistic and perhaps dub him Tim the feeble sparrow.
Even age-old British institutions are crap. Royal Mail lost a parcel that I posted to an eBay member, only to resurface 3 months late. I complained after 2 weeks that they’d lost my parcel and threatened to cut their feet off to no avail, so after 3 weeks I made a more polite complaint without using expletives and references to “the guy who gets shot in the face in Pulp Fiction”, and got a response a further 6 weeks later that basically said “oops, we’ll go look”. The eBay guy emailed me after 3 months and told me he’d finally got the parcel and so I flooded the Royal Mail served (that can only seemingly handle 3 emails at a time before breaking like Beckham at a spelling contest) with requests that they apologise to me formally and confess to being crap. They sent me a personal letter of apology and two books of first class stamps. The lesson is bug people until they give you free stuff.
I cant even be bothered to delve into the troubling prospects of joining the EU, the Euro and the influence America is having over Tony ‘Puppet on a string’ Blair. I hope Kilroy becomes grand senator of the world and builds his own Arian supremacy; well I don’t hope… but anything is better than this.
Page:
Uh-oh, I posted it in general. Most people won't understand all the 6-letter words I used.
Ever get the impression that everything English is just pure crap?
Yes, this rant stems from yesterday’s unpleasant football fiasco where we were robbed by a stupid referee with a bleached blonde beard. Though football is perhaps one of the biggest businesses on Earth, players are worth millions, stadiums worth billions and the advertising rights are like golddust, the sport is still caught up in the mid fifties as far as technology goes. The only real development that has been made is the increase in sponsorship and the balls are approximately 18.5% funkier than they were. Though a sport like rugby that is violent, brutal and probably soon to be deemed politically incorrect is about 50 years more advanced that football.
“Why are you hurting our fragile football-loving ears with these cruel words, Para?” I hear you cry. Because rugby has realised that fans get angry if the referee makes a wrong decision and so if the referee isn’t sure of something, the event is viewed on a big screen and the decision analysed by a panel of off-field referees. Instead of the referee claiming Terry fouled/groped/hurt the feelings of the Portuguese keeper, the decision could have been viewed and England could have had a goal they rightly deserved.
Whilst we’re on the subject, I’ll take a pop at Beckham too. Not only because he’s a tabloid plaything who hogs the media spotlight because they think we care who he is banging or what he is wearing, but also because he’s absolutely crap. He is supposed to be the captain of the England team. Now lets see what Dictionary.com thinks a captain is defined as:
Captain:
1. Abbr. Capt. One who commands, leads, or guides others
In the match last night did David Beckham look particularly commanding? Was he rallying the players to attack and defend when they needed to, or did he prance about doing absolutely nothing? I favour the latter. The only person on the England team who did anything close to captaining was David James, who commanded his defence and did well to guide them into shutting down the torrent of Portuguese attacks. Perhaps Beckham is too scared to open his mouth and tell the players what to do because he sounds about seven years old; or perhaps he is in the position of captain because Hello! and OK! magazine say he should; and he doesn’t actually have any idea what the hell he is doing there. Either way, he should no longer be captain, he should join Southgate in the pit of eternal penalty-messing-up torture and never represent my country again.
Reverting back to my original point of England being rubbish at everything – lets now take a firm dig at Tim Henman. “Tiger Tim” the tabloids print, unaware of their lame untruth. He’s anything but a tiger; he’s a spoilt pasty-white rich boy who swings the racket feebly with his limp wrists, then crashes out of the tournament to the devastation of the aristocratic strawberry guzzling spectators and Persil, who are probably the only people in the world actually stupid enough to pay him. No, The Sun, Mr. Henman isn’t a tiger at all; he is built up every year by the tabloids then beaten by some foreign unknown who can actually play tennis. If you have to compare him to an animal please be realistic and perhaps dub him Tim the feeble sparrow.
Even age-old British institutions are crap. Royal Mail lost a parcel that I posted to an eBay member, only to resurface 3 months late. I complained after 2 weeks that they’d lost my parcel and threatened to cut their feet off to no avail, so after 3 weeks I made a more polite complaint without using expletives and references to “the guy who gets shot in the face in Pulp Fiction”, and got a response a further 6 weeks later that basically said “oops, we’ll go look”. The eBay guy emailed me after 3 months and told me he’d finally got the parcel and so I flooded the Royal Mail served (that can only seemingly handle 3 emails at a time before breaking like Beckham at a spelling contest) with requests that they apologise to me formally and confess to being crap. They sent me a personal letter of apology and two books of first class stamps. The lesson is bug people until they give you free stuff.
I cant even be bothered to delve into the troubling prospects of joining the EU, the Euro and the influence America is having over Tony ‘Puppet on a string’ Blair. I hope Kilroy becomes grand senator of the world and builds his own Arian supremacy; well I don’t hope… but anything is better than this.
Yes, this rant stems from yesterday’s unpleasant football fiasco where we were robbed by a stupid referee with a bleached blonde beard. Though football is perhaps one of the biggest businesses on Earth, players are worth millions, stadiums worth billions and the advertising rights are like golddust, the sport is still caught up in the mid fifties as far as technology goes. The only real development that has been made is the increase in sponsorship and the balls are approximately 18.5% funkier than they were. Though a sport like rugby that is violent, brutal and probably soon to be deemed politically incorrect is about 50 years more advanced that football.
“Why are you hurting our fragile football-loving ears with these cruel words, Para?” I hear you cry. Because rugby has realised that fans get angry if the referee makes a wrong decision and so if the referee isn’t sure of something, the event is viewed on a big screen and the decision analysed by a panel of off-field referees. Instead of the referee claiming Terry fouled/groped/hurt the feelings of the Portuguese keeper, the decision could have been viewed and England could have had a goal they rightly deserved.
Whilst we’re on the subject, I’ll take a pop at Beckham too. Not only because he’s a tabloid plaything who hogs the media spotlight because they think we care who he is banging or what he is wearing, but also because he’s absolutely crap. He is supposed to be the captain of the England team. Now lets see what Dictionary.com thinks a captain is defined as:
Captain:
1. Abbr. Capt. One who commands, leads, or guides others
In the match last night did David Beckham look particularly commanding? Was he rallying the players to attack and defend when they needed to, or did he prance about doing absolutely nothing? I favour the latter. The only person on the England team who did anything close to captaining was David James, who commanded his defence and did well to guide them into shutting down the torrent of Portuguese attacks. Perhaps Beckham is too scared to open his mouth and tell the players what to do because he sounds about seven years old; or perhaps he is in the position of captain because Hello! and OK! magazine say he should; and he doesn’t actually have any idea what the hell he is doing there. Either way, he should no longer be captain, he should join Southgate in the pit of eternal penalty-messing-up torture and never represent my country again.
Reverting back to my original point of England being rubbish at everything – lets now take a firm dig at Tim Henman. “Tiger Tim” the tabloids print, unaware of their lame untruth. He’s anything but a tiger; he’s a spoilt pasty-white rich boy who swings the racket feebly with his limp wrists, then crashes out of the tournament to the devastation of the aristocratic strawberry guzzling spectators and Persil, who are probably the only people in the world actually stupid enough to pay him. No, The Sun, Mr. Henman isn’t a tiger at all; he is built up every year by the tabloids then beaten by some foreign unknown who can actually play tennis. If you have to compare him to an animal please be realistic and perhaps dub him Tim the feeble sparrow.
Even age-old British institutions are crap. Royal Mail lost a parcel that I posted to an eBay member, only to resurface 3 months late. I complained after 2 weeks that they’d lost my parcel and threatened to cut their feet off to no avail, so after 3 weeks I made a more polite complaint without using expletives and references to “the guy who gets shot in the face in Pulp Fiction”, and got a response a further 6 weeks later that basically said “oops, we’ll go look”. The eBay guy emailed me after 3 months and told me he’d finally got the parcel and so I flooded the Royal Mail served (that can only seemingly handle 3 emails at a time before breaking like Beckham at a spelling contest) with requests that they apologise to me formally and confess to being crap. They sent me a personal letter of apology and two books of first class stamps. The lesson is bug people until they give you free stuff.
I cant even be bothered to delve into the troubling prospects of joining the EU, the Euro and the influence America is having over Tony ‘Puppet on a string’ Blair. I hope Kilroy becomes grand senator of the world and builds his own Arian supremacy; well I don’t hope… but anything is better than this.
Page: