The beautiful game

I have tried many times to "get into" football but each attempt has ended in failure. My Father and Brother have been avid fans of the game for as long as I can remember and on numerous occasions I have attempted to do a bit of male bonding with them and watch a game with them. During the last world cup - whenever that was - I watched the first of England's games in their presence. I sat on the sofa with a can of beer in hand with every intention of giving it my undivided attention for the full 90 minutes. This was obviously a very important occasion for them. Seemingly as important as the birth of their first children.

By the end of the first half I had fallen asleep.

I was awoken by the pair of them standing over me, obviously irked by my lack of interest. I tried explaining that if footballers looked a little bit more like the lady in the photo then I might be able to stay awake and actually finish watching a game but I don't think saying this was particularly helpful. They reminded me of the fact that the country's reputation was on the line and that I should take more note of what was going on. It's a sad state of affairs when England's reputation hinges on the performance of our sporting teams. Having an already shaky reputation abroad I tried persuading them that relying on our lacklustre sporting teams to bolster foreign public opinion was like betting your house on number 27 at the local casino - bloody marvellous if it worked but inherently flawed as the chances of finding yourself living under a bridge are better than a Jihadist getting peeved at another danish cartoonist.