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Euro 2016 qualifying report: England v Lithuania

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    Euro 2016 qualifying report: England v Lithuania

    EMINENT ENGLAND THRASH RANCID LITHUANIAN WHELPS 4-0

    By way of pastime, I am wont to have my manservant Seppings dress up in the garb of a servant girl. Whereupon I myself dress up in my full aristocratic finery, mount a horse and pursue him across my estate, riding crop in hand, like some uncompromising lady's man of the 18th century who will have his way. Sometimes we reverse the roles; the horse is dressed as a servant girl and I ride Seppings in lascivious pursuit of the animal. This is all good, solid British recreational amusement. Tonight, however, was a time for our own footballing aristocrats to put aside such pastimes, the hotel romp, the jest, the boxing match in the kitchen in y-fronts, and attend to a matter of utmost seriousness – the annihilation of Lithuania, by any means necessary, even if it meant drawing on England's guest minorities as a reserve force, albeit on the understanding that this would not change the citizen status of either themselves or those of their hue.

    Our opponents this Friday evening were Lithuania, a miserable runt of an exclave protruding from the head of Poland on the map like an extraneous growth. They are a Baltic people, in many unfortunate cases profoundly so. It is hard to think that the Grand Duchy Lithuania was once the largest country in Europe; so much so that it the only way to pass it was on the left hand side. However, a genetic predisposition towards bloodletting and misery has meant that Lithuania's history is a veritable timeline of turbulence; the Great Slaughter of 863, the Epic Massacre of 1272, the Grand Genocide of 1421, the Famous Annexation of 1622 and the Splendid Carnage of 1738 are just a handful of the country's most pre-eminent highlights, celebrated in song and clog dance.

    They made a pretty bungling fist of the Second World War, being occupied first by the Nazis and then by the Soviet Union, both of whom gave up the country without an exactly heavy heart, like a green teapot at a car boot sale. You would have thought that having been the football of competing international superpowers might have lent them some aptitude for the sport but such has not proven to be the case, as we would see tonight. Although conscription to the army was lifted in 2008, it is still mandatory for the national football team, with most new call-ups starting off in the back four. The country has boasted rapid development since gaining independence; it is estimated that the majority of its citizens have already achieved mammal status and some may well be walking upright by the year 2050.

    Nevertheless, the National Anthems were the measure of the continuing disparity between the two nations. Our national dish is Spotted Dick washed down with warm beer; theirs is rancid root vegetables wrested from under the snout of a famished pig. Our national language is English; their national language, like most foreigners, is very bad English, spoken still more poorly. Our National Anthem was brayed with capillary-bursting gusto, a paean to a monarch who, in the most respectful sense makes the semen of young Englishmen boil with lust even in her ninth decade. Theirs reminded of the dismal, clattering progress of a cartful of turnips trundling over a cobbled path in the direction of some sort of communal soup barn.

    The game began at a cracking pelt as English cocks thrust forward and repeatedly. It wasn't long before Wayne Rooney hit the woodwork, as he would do twice. Time, surely, for UEFA to consider removing goalposts, these pedantic and outdated impediments. If the intention was there, that should be enough. If Wayne Rooney shoots in the general direction of the opposition and it passes over the by-line, that should count.

    Others also shone; Michael Carrick showed how well he thrives when completely undisturbed by the opposition, Danny Welbeck demonstrated his mastery of running into completely empty space, while Joe Hart chews gum and watches from a distance like a young man finally catching up on Breaking Bad and only dimly comprehending what is going on and why it's supposed to be so great like no other.

    There was a single, insolent incursion from the Lithuanians, which caused a fleeting moment of panic in England's Phil Jones, like a farmer's boy sitting down for his lunchtime sandwich only to find it snatched from his hand by a mischievous goat; fortunately, like said hand slipping in the mud in his green wellingtons and sliding down the hill on his backside inadvertently apprehending the animal amid a tangle of flailing limbs, Jones made a successful tackle.

    So inspiring was England's performance that even some of Lithuania's team seemed to be assisting them in their efforts, sapped of all pride, like collaborators sucking up to an occupying force in exchange for a slice of baloney. The evening was not yet over, however, for, as Pathé news bulletins showing at your local Cinematographodeon will show over the forthcoming days, it was England's Harry Kane who carried the day, demonstrating that when it comes to heading a ball that lands gently on your head from an unmarked position two yards out into an empty net, the English remain the finest in the world. And there is no finer Englishmen currently than Mr Harry Kane. As the final whistle blew, and the pitch was scoured for any Lithuanian players who might have stayed on the field unnoticed in the hope of merging into the black economy, it was clear that Harry Kane's debut marks a watershed in recent English history. We must seize the moment; marry him off to a Royal, so that his Princely status is sealed, parachute him into a safe Conservative seat and put him on the fast track to the Cabinet, groomed to be the eventual successor of David Cameron, Who knows, should we lose our present heirs in future wars, Harry Kane could well be our future simultaneous King and Prime Minister. For now, however, there is no doubt that he is 1957's Footballer of the Year.

    #2
    Euro 2016 qualifying report: England v Lithuania

    For now, however, there is no doubt that he is 1957's Footballer of the Year.
    Tee hee
    Kane really is the world's oldest-looking 22 year-old.

    The slightly dodgy, yet mildly humorous 'Like a Lithuanian house party' has crept into the vernacular over here as a way of describing a particularly nasty assault or fight.

    Comment


      #3
      Euro 2016 qualifying report: England v Lithuania

      Very good para on the anthems especially, although I sense it must be tougher to write these match reports when England actually do thrash the rancid whelps.

      Comment


        #4
        Euro 2016 qualifying report: England v Lithuania

        Awesome as ever. I do hope the wing commander is watching the game against Italy on Tuesday night. I know we've played them in the last two tournaments, but this will be the first time we've played them in Italy since 2000. And it's in Turin, so, you know, Italian job references and all that ...

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          #5
          Euro 2016 qualifying report: England v Lithuania

          I'd be amazed if the Wing commander has ever seen a talking picture.

          Comment


            #6
            Euro 2016 qualifying report: England v Lithuania

            The Phil Jones references are always quite brilliant.

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              #7
              Euro 2016 qualifying report: England v Lithuania

              Sean of the Shed wrote: I'd be amazed if the Wing commander has ever seen a talking picture.
              I wouldn't surprise one too much to hear of a military man of his standing having seen a cinematograph or two of the utmost vulgarity whilst on the continent, though of course decorum prohibits their discussion.

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