2 INGLERLAND

Where am I? Oh yeah, the dog house. What time is it? Oh yeah, time I hung up my boots, along with my head in shame. I remember, wish I didn’t. It was my mistake. I cost us 3 points. That my friend, is my handiwork, all by my fucking loathsome self. Come on, we all make mistakes. Yeah, but this is the world cup baby and I’m gonna get the shit ripped out of me from the terraces, and the media. Even paper boys will want to wrap their bags round my head. All I want, all I’ve ever wanted was someone to say is, “Hey, you had a blinder, you are a great football player”. That’s all I want from De’Arth, that brutal bastard. I don’t care about his tactics. Yes, I do respect him, I mean, he has pedigree. He’s a winner, no doubt about that. But, all this training? I’m fucking sick of it. Just gimme a ball, I love it. Just like Helen’s silly dog and his tennis ball. Throw, fetch, pant, huh huh!. You and me buddie. I know where you’re coming from boy. Guess I’d better get ready for breakfast. Do I have to shave? I don’t want to see myself in the mirror, groan. Why can’t I just stay here in my lovely toastie bed? I should be on holiday now anyways. On the beach with my girl spending some of that stack of dosh. I’ve earnt it, had a good season. Look, everybody makes mistakes, yeah, that’s my line. Everyone deserves a second chance. It’s not like I’m the only one in the team that’s playing shit is it? Look at Dawson, ooh, what’s pulling his chain? Great hope of the nation? We wish. There’s a void there I can’t hit. On the field and off. Waste of space. Yeah, everyone makes mistakes, that’s what I’m gonnna say. Sporting chance, that’s the British way innit. Come on, let’s do it. INGLERLAND!