So while the whole world goes crazy with World Cup fever, I will quite happily admit that it doesn’t necessarily float my boat. Call me a killjoy but the incessant Facebook and Twitter updates that clog up my feed by revealing every play (mind you, from people who don’t usually follow the football), the riot police called in to contain the ‘friendly’ locals in Barbès-Rochechouart who take the afternoon off from selling contraband cigarettes and fake perfume to climb street furniture and set flares alight and the fact that a blaring LED screen in a charming Parisian café is more of an attraction than the person opposite one’s table is more appealing doesn’t exactly instill spirit in me.
Needless to say, footballers aren’t particularly known for their taste, moderation or decorum thus the loutish behaviour that ensues comes as no shock. Take for instance, Cristiano Ronaldo. Present-day attractive (that’s not a compliment, by the way), oiled to within an inch of his life and bejewelled in all manner of Dany Bijoux bling is a sterling example of an over-inflated sense of entitlement paired with youth and way too liberal spending. Case in point:
As for German coach, Joachim Löw who was busted mining for nuggets at a recent match, the Australian Cottee’s cordial commerical and its playground appropriation—”My dad picks the fruit/his nose that goes to Cottee’s to make the cordial, that I like best.”—seems most appropriate. Showing here:
So in the unlikely event that footballers can read this site; take heed. Pull those socks up, remove those fingers from orifices they shouldn’t be and remember that the world is watching.
Published on 30 June 2010 by Agony Uncle