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World Cup report: England v Croatia

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    World Cup report: England v Croatia

    EMINENT, EXCELLENT ENGLAND POUND CRAPULOUS CROATIA INTO THE GROUND 1-2


    Here are some cold, hard facts about England’s opponents last night, Croatia.

    A primarily agricultural country, Croatia nonetheless had no knowledge of wheelbarrows until they were introduced to them and their purpose explained by British forces in 1995. Prior to that, they had carried dung by hand from one part of the field to another.

    Croatia elected its first goat as a member of parliament in 1998. The animal was eventually promoted to Treasury Minister but summarily fired for nibbling away a third of the country’s currency.

    The existence of women in Croatia is still not formally recognised. They are classed as “Nyòtyetmenn” (Not yet men) and required to undergo surgery to change gender by the age of 35.

    The population of Croatia is 74. This is because the other four and a half million or so of them are over here, thanks to EU madness. They work mainly as human tables (with added chequered red and white tablecloths), able to bend over backwards and assume the tabular position for hours at a stretch. I myself have dined on a Croatian many times; it makes an agreeable change from dining on Seppings, who is apt to start whimpering once the port and nuts have arrived.


    It was against such a nation, a backward, boggy Balkan farrago of men with a sallow, weathered air that comes from having been near-perpetually at war since the year 373 that England were ranged tonight. The National Anthems were the measure of the disparity of the countries. Our own was bellowed lustily and to climax; the squirting sensation, followed by a viscous trickle down to the small of their backs experienced by those young mascots standing in front of the players will be the greatest moment of their lives. The Croatian anthem, by contrast, entitled “We Surrender Once More” was a lamentable dirge, the melancholic brass accompaniment to a Miss Croatia pageant whose contestants are all scarved grandmothers.

    The game began at a cracking pelt, led by Harry “The Tornado” Kane, literally fired out of a cannon into the penalty box. Though it is a close run thing between him and Delle Ali, he is England’s greatest cock. But then, I know his pedigree. I was acquainted with his distant Uncle, Colonel Trevor “Hhhhinglan!” Kane, the truest of patriots. Back in 1991, with the Balkan wars just months old, the Americans attempted to strangle them at birth with a peace accord. All was going as the Americans wished, the warring parties on the verge of signing, when Colonel Kane leant over and whispered in the ear of the Croatian general, “Still, doesn’t change what happened at the Battle Of Dyrbyk in 787, does it?” A big argument broke out and the accord was killed stone dead. As was Colonel Kane, blown to pieces in a mortar attack three months later. When they found his mouth, 40 yards away from the explosion, it had formed into a smile. Colonel Kane considered peace accords to be grossly effeminate and those who pursued them as petticoated, lollipop-sucking French girls. He was quite right.


    The Croatians, meanwhile, looked bedraggled. It defies comprehension that FIFA, in their infinite pedantry, insisted that this game be played at all, given that the outcome was a foregone conclusion. They looked resentful at being dragged out of their bunkbeds to play in this game, complaining frequently to the referee about the matter. They were a motley crew; Panic, Comic, Frantic, and in midfield the first lesbian to play for the national team, Real Madrid’s Luca Sapphic.

    England cut through them at will, sending balls deliberately high and wide of the goal as warning shots. Small wonder that the Croatians resorted to niggling tactics. Jesse Lingard, for example, was kidnapped, blindfolded, then along with his fellow villagers herded out to the hillside and there forced to help dig a trench into which he would duly fall, dispatched with a single bullet to the back of the head, along with dozens of others - all on the referee’s blindside, of course, and with the blue bereted personnel running the VAR doing nothing at all. Lingard, however, ran off his injuries and did what he does so well for England, ie not get in Harry Kane’s way.

    Come half time and the Croatians were still grumbling, their captain imploring the referee to cancel the game and ITV show an old episode of Heartbeat in lieu of the second half. As for England, they took to the field with springtime gusto. They certainly didn’t have the petrified air of a bunch of callow, hyped-up tattooed instragrammers visibly wetting themselves in the face of a character test and suddenly unable to kick a ball to within 90 degrees of its intended target. Jordan Henderson took command of the midfield, like the plume hatted governor of a fractious British colony, wisely electing to stay well out of the fray. Delle Ali was as effective as he is charming. Kyle Walker, who doesn’t look like the lovechild of Bernard Bresslaw and a confused beaver, kept his calamitous errors to an impressive tally of under five. Ashley Young certainly wasn’t a bewilderingly useless pile of shit. Could there be any more relaxing spectacle than England killing time knocking the ball around at the back with a sure and deft touch, like drunken soldiers in the trenches playing Hot Potato with a live grenade?

    The game was going so well, and so much fun were they having at Croatia’s expense, that they deliberately conceded a second half goal so that they could further taunt the Croatians in extra time. By now, in high spirits, England were hoofing the ball high into the air just for the fun of watching their opponent’s awestruck and fearful faces, as it brought back memories of bombs raining down them in the early 1990s.

    The referee finally blew the whistle and the Croatian team cheered and celebrated deliriously, thankful that their ordeal was at last over and they could return to their dormitories and get back to their bunkbeds. As for England, on they march; though perhaps for the next World Cup in eight years time, Mr Gareth Southgate might consider blooding some of England’s younger players - Wayne Rooney, Frank Lampard, Stephen Gerrard, Carlton Palmer, Chris Sutton, Paul Mariner? Meanwhile, bring on the Belgians, for a game of truly historical significance; by winning it, England will be the first team ever to both win the World Cup and also the third place play-off in the same tournament.
    Last edited by wingco; 12-07-2018, 12:34.

    #2
    Loved the ejaculation on the mascots.

    One typo - should be "at Croatia's expense"

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      #3
      Caught, cheers!

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        #4
        Originally posted by Satchmo Distel View Post
        Loved the ejaculation on the mascots.
        There's a sentence you can only say in certain contexts.

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          #5
          Which is probably why I liked it.

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            #6
            and in midfield the first lesbian to play for the national team
            file under jokes you're disappointed in yourself for sniggering at

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              #7
              “Still, doesn’t change what happened at the Battle Of Dyrbyk in 787, does it?” Superb.

              And poor Jesse Lingard...

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                #8
                Have just spent an instructive and very enjoyable half hour catching up on what happened at the World Cup, solely through wingco's reports. I'm sure you're all pleased that England won again.

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                  #9
                  I've been wondering who enjoyed more games in the tournament- Imp and his boycotters or De Galles, Pulisov and co waiting for England to get knocked out...

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                    #10
                    Presumably they enjoyed the games in the difficult half while chewing the carpet at how piss easy England's half was becoming.

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                      #11
                      Originally posted by Duncan Gardner View Post
                      I've been wondering who enjoyed more games in the tournament- Imp and his boycotters or De Galles, Pulisov and co waiting for England to get knocked out...
                      I loved this World Cup and enjoyed all of it immensely. There was a small ghastly window between England’s games against Colombia and Croatia where some of the gloss was taken off it by their progress and all the “It’s Coming Home” shite.

                      However, as soon as they obliged with their textbook result of getting knocked out by the first decent team they meet all was well again.
                      Last edited by Ray de Galles; 31-07-2018, 07:50.

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