Game Over. Continue?
And so with the inevitibility of FPS including barrels, or any RPG having an ice level, England have been knocked out of the world cup. And I am happy. Not because I am one of those pseudo-neomen of the 0's who is so secure in his sexuality that he would rather go shopping with his girlfriend than watch football, or one of those people who complain about the world cup taking over everything.
Respectively I would say to those people:
1) Give up mate because she isn't putting out even if you do pretend to give a fuck about whether her shoes match her toe-ring. The women of the 0's are characterised by only putting out to sleezes they meet whilst "finding themselves" in Cambodia. They aren't interested in knobbage that doesn't give them a great story to tell when they meet up with their similarly boring-but striving to be interesting girlfriends for their weekly lunch.
2) If you don't like football its because you were either a) Really bad at sports at school, b) Home educated or c) You are so-desperately trying to escape your southern middle-classness by pretending to be more interested in Fair Trade Soya or the latest food blog. Pricks.
No. I am happy because England losing in a penalty shoot-out is like Christmas. It happens with such clockwork regularity. It also helps me to plot my life because I honestly wouldn't have remembered the summers of 2002, 2004, 2000,1998 and 1996 if it wasn't for the spectacles of England once again dropping out of an international tournament.
It is also tiring supporting them hoping that they might be able to do it this time. Its like playing a Super Smash Brothers stock match when you are down to your last life with 285% against two level 9 opponents one with three lives, one with two lives. You know that it is going to take all of your pad skills to stop from flying off the screen the next time you are hit. You also know that defeat is inevitable but something in you believes that if you can take out the guy with two lives you my just have a chance. You imagine how great it would be to pull it off against the odds and how other geeks would look at you in disbelief when you recounted the Herculean miracle. Then you start to think "What's the fucking point in playing games all the time if I can't even beat these two bots?" and the match becomes more about you justifying what you do with your life. Striving for brilliance. And then, sweating and wheezing, you fail, and get that little sick feeling in the pit of your stomach at the thought that some Japanaese programmer somewhere is so much better than you that they can program two bots to beat you 8 years later. Might as well play WoW because I am that shit at games that demand some kind of skill.