Delayed Reaction

If I was as into the football world cup as I thought I was, and supporting the team I chose to support properly, I probably would have posted about this a bit earlier. So England is out. Demolished in a penalty shoot out - and what's worse, ummmm... I don't know - false shock, disappointment, gutted-ness, is that poor old Beck's has resigned as captain. Believe me, that's gutting because there's nobody else quite so pretty as our David on the team to be captain; hold on, there's always the Roone-nator.

Our David, what a weirdo I am. At lease the swede is gone: "hello, my name is sven, I am from Sveden - I have no legs", and now no English team to manage. Don't know why I didn't like the guy - "he wasn't right, in the head [beat] ahahhahhaaaha" - crazy laugh done by Steven the Irishman in Braveheart.

The funny thing is, while it's gutting because it was heaps of fun to go around to people's houses to watch the game and support the team, I don't care that much. Not enough to cry - having said that, I didn't even care that much when the AB's were knocked out of the last world cup. And I call myself a kiwi.

Oh well, I couldn't really care less about who won now - funnily enough, it'd be cool if Portugal wins because they're the only team who hasn't won it yet.

Ah well, what are you going to do.