Frederick

I feel like Danny Glover at the end of every Lethal Weapon film, too old for this shit (I'm 22). If Torres comes good tonight and scores the winner I think I'll be so depressed that I'll sit in my pants watching My Summer With Des on a continual loop for the next week, gently weeping. Then just as I'm healed, Milner will join Man City.

There's a part of me that doesn't mourn Ghana's exit from the tournament because at least it might spell the end of ITV treating Marcel Desailly as their resident dancing Russian bear. OHOHO LOOK HE'S HAPPY THEY SCORED, QUICK MAKE HIM DANCE. OHOHO THEY MISSED A PENALTY, QUICK GET THE CAMERA ON HIS HEART BROKEN FACE. I mean I know he looks game but it got to a point where there was something faintly pornographic about it.

Speaking of eloquent people, I had to edit my long post from this morning. Who needs proper paragraphs and good sentences? Not me. But the last bit didn't make sense! I blame all those Fabio Capello press conferences! Mama mia!

Michael, how dare you criticise the brooding witticisms of Lawro! Why he's almost as eloquent as Mark "always try and say five words simultaneously" Bright! And yet Jim Beglin is still more irritating. Gawd he's such a dripping tap, a permanently befuddled spectator of life's idiosyncrasies, a non-stop human festival of misery and self-righteousness. And Chris Coleman! How many times has he said "you won't see a better cross than that all tournament!"?! I counted, FIFTY TRILLION TIMES.

Joachim Löw is the man. Never got credit for nothing until what, a week and a half ago? But hey is Alan Hansen still describing Germany as 'very average'? I blame the performance in 2002 for such sloppy declarations. Then again all the German people I know are trying to find ways to remain negative, waiting for poor old Per Mertesacker to make the crucial mistake that's apparently inevitable. It all reminds me of 2006 when this lovely middle-aged couple from Berlin WINCED when I told them as home nation they'd definitely get to at least the semi-finals. They were about to ring for the men in white coats I tell ya. And to think I held in my mockery of those who put money on Serbia to win the tournament cuz they're like totally a dark horse and stuff. Oh mercy. Don't get me wrong, I like everyone who's left in the tournament (except Spain). Good ol' Forlan, always burrowing around but the Dutch, oh the Dutch. Let's have a Germany-Holland final. Old school styley but with a new age attitude (yeah?). And Baron, you poor thing. But never mind, apparently Maradona and his "delightful antics" have been the real star of the World Cup. Yeah, I mean doing things such as shouting instructions and occasionally kicking a ball to a player about to take a thrown in, or even celebrating with members of his own coaching staff after scoring sure are audacious. So much so that we have to be shown highlight reels at half-time. Bum slurping inane media idiocy.

erfinderischer Geist.

Was ist los? Das gefällt mir.

Need HQ!

The low scoring complaint is so transparent. If teams were awarded ten points per goal (or whatever), it'd be mentioned far, far less.

Enjoy O'Malley's writing, adore Winstead and have faith in Edgar. Can't stand Michael "Turtle Face" Cera at all. If he nails it, rest assured, I'll be the first to say so!

When Wright-Phillips came on yesterday, long after the horse had bolted, the pub I was in erupted into a state of collective laughter. Easily one of my all-time favourite World Cup memories. So long 'golden generation'. Tempted to go into the garage and find all those old FourFourTwo magazines from the late '90s that tried to convince me that Riccardo Scimeca would captain us to World Cup glory on at least one occasion, with the great Richard Wright between the sticks and Francis Lampard Junior playing a pivotal part (in shooting off target?) in our progressive, high tempo attacking play. That being said, I'm sure James Corden's pudgy man 'comedy' antics will cheer us up in no time, all whilst we witness the systematic reiteration that the Premier League is the best thing to ever happen ever ever ever ever ever. My brothers in the football thread (Ed, SS and Michael) will tell you that I love my Bundesliga. No Dortmund players, mind. Still, the Argentina game has me sweating jelly babies, such is my excitement. Now if you'll excuse me, I must get back, Terry Venables has agreed to give me singing lessons. Then tomorrow: a fun run with Ledley King (subject to fitness, the gap toothed porky bugger prefers the sofa!)!

Thanks for the feedback. I saw that documentary Stones in Exile on TV the other night, with one of those wholly unnecessary BBC added Alan Yentob intros. I assume it was significantly edited down from the cut they showed at Cannes. T'was quite fun but would only have been informative to complete and utter n00bs.

Law Abiding Citizen?

Well fair enough I guess. Been saying Bayern should get rid of Demichelis for years and so he's proved again to not quite be top draw. God knows Robben was trying but it was all very one dimensional and any stray touch was instantly gobbled up by Inter. Cue a sea of insipid, fawning broadsheet articles about Mourinho. Can't fault the man's accomplishments at all, just wish there weren't so many bum slurpers tracking his every blink. I think they're all under the impression that because he makes jokes at press conferences, they're all his mates. Dumbos.

The ending is a complete and utter downer, maybe even a weekend ruiner, but it was absolutely the way to go.

I love Frank Darabont in general, so all of his King adaptations work for me. But The Shining is The Shining, y'know?

She's gorgeous. Too bad US Vogue suck the life out of every photo.

That is the incorrect answer! mummyyyy

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang?

My favourite of theirs by a considerable margin. Usually people look at me funny when I say that but ah well.

Fair play to Fulham. Randy, can we please buy Forlan?

Dave was quite the long haired eye candy way back when so I say good choice, Baby(!) From both a musical and personal perspective, however, it all went downhill in the dreaded 1980s when he got fat, coke addicted and started writing boombastic arena rock shyt. He looks quite respectable by the time you get to The Division Bell, for which his new life affirming wife wrote the lyrics. Generally though albums involving the wife, or ones that serve as tributes to domesticity bore me to tears, hence why I don't listen to Double Fantasy or any of those new Eric Clapton recordings where he talks about doing the washing up OR WHATEVER. Yes, Baby, more recommendations!