Tuesday, 14 June 2016

Never mind the b*ll*cks...

I don't know about you, but I may just about have had enough football this weekend to last me till the next millennium...

Euro 2016 is upon us, bringing armchair pundits (the husband), gamblers (son number 2) and POW's.  (I'll leave you to fill in whichever word you'd like at this point ladies....Please feel free to join me as one of the P****d Off Wives).  What annoys me most of all is that there is no respite.  Couldn't the major TV channels have got together, and agreed that three of them would show all the matches, while the other two were geared towards the non-football watchers.  I would welcome a channel purely for musicals and soppy chick flicks, while the other could be dedicated to soaps.  There's something for everyone then. 

At work yesterday, one of the boys I work with admitted that he had watched all the televised matches over the weekend, and that he planned to watch all the remaining ones up to the end of the competition.  This is a total of fifty one matches (if this is wrong, I apologise, I could only commandeer so many dog paws) which equates to over a hundred hours of adult men kicking a ball from one end of a field to the other.   I can think of far better things to watch on the television (assuming there is no drying paint to watch).  How about Grease, followed by You've Got Mail, then West Side Story, finished off with a proper tear jerker....Titanic.  Now that's a good night's viewing, especially if accompanied with a bottle of Prosecco, a few nibbles and a face pack (us POW's are extremely good at multitasking...)

I get rather confused with all the foreign names too.  The Russian team seemed to be made up of players called Chestikov, Nastikov, Tiklikov and Sendimov....but maybe I wasn't paying enough attention.  I enjoyed watching the German match (only the last ten minutes, as I was busy boiling my head for the rest of the match), and the fact that the pundits kept mentioning people called Ballack and Koch cheered me up no end.

So back to Sunday night.  Having watched wall to wall football since Friday, the husband (ever sensitive to my moods) had noticed that my demeanour was edging towards psychotic serial killer.

'I think that's enough football for this weekend', he said, grabbing hold of the remote control.

Oh yes', I agreed, 'What else is on?'

'Top Gear.  We haven't missed much.'

He's living on borrowed time, that one...
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