Is a Crying Shane!

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Behind You!!!!

I am not having been bothered to watch the useless football match last week between Ireland and France in Paris, France, if you remember, because I was say already back then that France would definitely win and therefore there was no point in staying up so late to watch it.  Anyway, I am only catch the result a couple of days later, which confirm my espectation, and so I then whipped off all my letters of condolences to my Irish friends and tell them how sorry I was that I would not be meeting up with them in South Africa where Spain will be winning the World Cup.

In the end, however, I think that Irish football fans can console themself with the fact that they will have a much better World Cup competition to look forward to next summer, from the comfort of their own homes in lovely pissing Ireland, now that all the good teams are going. Rather than be bore shitless watching a bunch of nobodies from non-league teams hoofing the optimistic balls upfield, they will now have the creative flair and inventive panache of continental wizards to admire and watch in awe of. Unless they watch England, of course, which is like watching Ireland, escept with fewer English players.

Si, there is no doubt that football as a whole is the winner from Ireland’s absence in South Africa. We must be honest to ourself and one to the another also: the World Cup can very well survive without the likes of Paul Shane, Shane Given, and John O’Shane (why are all Irish players called Shane? Escept for David Duff and David Dunn, of course, who are both called Damian) . On the other hand, the competition would suffer from a severe loss of credibility and publicity damage if there was no Genius Zidane gracing its pitches with his presence, no Papa Lizarazu holding stadiums in wrapt attention, no Roland Barthez silencing the crowds with his bald head and spectacular wife, no Didier Duchamp estracting the piss from the opposition with his ready-made tackle. If it had been me in charge of FIFA instead of the morally upright and beyond suspicion Sepp Blatty, I would have try anything within my power that I could to ensure that it was France that was going through rather than Ireland, make no mistake, whether it was being seeding the play-offs to improve the draw for France, giving them the second leg at home, hiring incompetent match officials, or bringing Paul Shane on as substitute.  Anything, ANYTHING to make sure that I am not sharing my room in Johannesburg with John Delaney.

However, Herr Blatty is above any such shenanigans. Any man who have on his CV that he was once the chairman of the Zurich Brown Shirts must by definition be a right-standing pillard of society. He would know better than to try to fix football matches. That is why what make the sport so unpredictable and therefore why so many love to gamble about it. If it was possible to predict the scores in advance, then I would be a very rich man indeed. Which I am. Spiritually.

The real big story of the week, for everyone who was not distracted by the football, was the news that seven bulls manage to escape from the Scientology cult. I am not sure if any of my readers will have heard of Scientology. Basically, it is a fake religion, like the Moomins, the Hoovers Witnesses, and the Jews, which believe that we are all from outer space and our ancestors was crash-landed on Earth and as a result lose their memory after banging their head and so have forgotten their roots and lost any notion of right and wrong and good and bad. However, we can retrieve our proper true identity by giving all our money to Ron Hubbard, who was sent down by God to redeem us and who was crucify by the Romans so that we would be saved and no longer live in sin.

No wait. That cannot be right.

Anyway, if you do the research and find out the nonsense which Scientology is saying, you are force to wonder what sort of moron would believe in it, and you will not be surprise then when I tell you that it is film stars. Peoples like John Travolta, Olivia Newton John, Marlon Brando, Yul Brynner, Charlie Chaplin, Errol Flynn, Martin Sheen, Jodie Foster, Pete Postlethwaite, Emma Thompson, and Bruce Lee. They are all film stars. People like them.

Indeed, from the news resport it appears that the bulls who escape from the cult were actually being held on a film set where Tom Cruise, who is a well-known one, was due to arrive. When they find out that he was on his way, the bulls suddenly realize that, far from participating in an innocent re-enactment of Pamplona, they are were being groomed to take part in some kind of unnatural demonic cult-sponsored video that would no doubt end up on YouTube and which would undoubtedly involve ritual humiliation such as Cruise leaping up and down on them and shouting “You call yourselves bulls? I’ve studied bulls. I know the history of bulls. Have you studied bulls?!”

The blank, lifeless eyes of a bull bully

I think any of us, in the same situation, would have decide the way the bulls did, and try to make a break for it. Sadly, as the news story is tell us, they manage only to get as far as the beach, which is a nice place in itself for a picnic and day at the beach, but for the bulls it was mean that they were cornered. They had forgot to take their trunks and buffalo wings with them. Thunce they were rounded up and taken back to the ranch, where they have no doubt already been spit roasted with Cameron Diaz and all the extras, although I think Tom Cruise is a fruitarian. That may be just a rumour, however.

I am off now to watch the brilliant Real Madrid beat the rubbish F.C. Zurich. One look at the handsome genius Cristiano Ronaldo and they will be the Zurich Brown Shorts.
Is a joke!

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