The World Cup can fuck off.

Actually no, that's a little harsh.

The cartwheeling, bellowing, air-punching excitement over the World Cup can fuck off, to be specific. At time of writing, the bloody thing hasn't even started and yet everyone in my office is talking about the Argentinian defence and how England should be attacking - for a while this morning I thought the Falklands was back on. Now don't get me wrong, I'm happy to let the world cup happen, I'm not that much of a curmudgeon - But just leave me the fuck alone if I don't want to watch it please.

The World Cup brings with it this immediate assumption that you are a) Interested in football and b) Hoping England will win, which as a Welshman living in Wales, I find a little unusual. Truthfully, I couldn't give less of a shit who wins, and I'm not going to be one of those turds who complains about it being on TV - I understand that it's a big event that is obviously more important than everything else that's going on on telly - If only there were special sports channels where they could broadcast this sort of stuff... Obviously that's utopian future stuff that you and I won't be alive for, but-

What, you mean they already exist?

Well why the fuck do they poison the normal people's airwaves with this shit then?

It's not just the airwaves, either. The shop near where I work (In Wales, it should be said) is full of white and red tat, and the only time I want to see that much plastic with a red cross on it is if I were to stumble across Girls Aloud trying on PVC nurse's outfits. I don't want the flag banned, I just don't understand how buying England earrings will help our lads romp to victory in a competition they haven't won in forty-four pissing years.

Nor do I understand why people assume you like football come World Cup season, or even want to join in - I don't want to join your fantasy football leage, I'm not partaking in your fucking sweepstake, and I don't want to dress up like a country or have a penalty shootout against the management. I want to go home and pick my nose, eat Pringles and cry, and I'd appreciate it if you'd just leave me to it, thanks very much.

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