Our economy is in crisis so it's fortuitous timing that we have just recently exported a host of very expensive cretins which should do wonders for the country's balance of payments and whose absence also serves to raise the collective IQ domestically. Unfortunately we will have to take them back soon enough, but they'll probably be worth less by that time.
I refer of course to the World Cup. It depresses me that professional footballers, the significant majority of whom are vacuous morons (for those players reading that doesn't refer to your hoover), are perceived by the world at large as representative of England as a whole. Less depressing though than the fact it's probably true.
I loathe the World Cup and everything about it. It's a good job I don't have a television as it means I may be able to largely avoid the thing altogether. I'll have to don the ipod so I can equally be ignorant to the armchair pundits near the fruit and veg at Tesco and I'll just pretend the flags are advertising a re-enactment of St. George and the Dragon using extra long baguettes and a Ryvita as a shield.
What's worse I wonder, the true peasant hardcore followers or the middle classes who affect jingositic blokeishness for a month every four years.
In the midst of the holocaust of vapid WC promotion I am betting that very few people are aware that the following collection of World and Olympic gold medallists and record holders will be at Bedford Athletic Club all week: Paul Tergat, Wilfrid Bungei, Catherine Ndereba, Samuel Wanjiru, Duncan Kibet and Benjamin Limo. Quite amazing, and they won't just be being rude to young kids either (ala Kenny Dalglish signing lampshades in the local co-op back in 1982).
The full schedule is here:
I'm not the type to salivate over (and no doubt irritate) famous people as pride disallows it but I will certainly be taking advantage of Saturday's endurance running masterclass. Let's hope we're not really British about it and that people actually turn up rather than watching football highlights.