Saga of a woman old enough to know better who lets her life be governed by the ridiculous hobby of breeding and showing dogs, musing on life, the twenty first century, Cameron and his mini-me, and the occasional sheep.

Thursday, June 29, 2006


I have no interest in the World Cup. The planet footie is not on my flight plan. I have successfully avoided all TV and radio coverage so far, and intend to continue.

But I can`t avoid the leakage of footiemania into news and other programming. And I am sick of the efforts of the sport media to encourage a witch hunt to "out" any resident of the British Isles who will not take an oath to support England - sorry, "Engeland, Engeland" - and then condemn them roundly and watch with delight as someone like Andy Murray receives acres of hate mail. Anything to stir up news, and damn the morality. You can always tell a journalist a mile off by the bulge in his pocket - it`s the bill of sale for his grandmother.

I have never had a good word for the First Minister - but why is it so important that he should lie in public about what team he supports? Is the English arrogance really based on such insecurity that everyone has to be coerced into support?

Hell, it`s only a game. Grown men kicking a ball about for amazing amounts of money. Don`t ask me to care.

And what country would I support? Well, I have no English relatives. But I do have Brazilian ones..

.I guess that would leave me supporting a team that actually has a chance of winning.
Plus them Brazilians are darned cute ...
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