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Over to Jo’s for luncheon and to watch Engerland make their traditional quarter-final crash out. It’s sad to see grown men cry. It’s even sadder to think that it matters, really, that much. I love watching England do well, I love watching international football (rather than, say, Rotherham vs Donny Rovers) but still, it’s only a facking game: one side of overpaid preeners vs another of the same. I find the patriotism/nationalism that surrounds England games a little odd when e.g. a Man U fan hates Steven Gerrard all season but then loves him for a month in the summer. Or has to detest Ronaldo (#2) for 2 hours one sweltering July afternoon. I hate the tabloid style of presenting football in a Shanklian manner; this concept that if we win the World Cup everything will be all right in the country. That our lives are so pointless that identifying with some blokes we’ll never meet or be like is gonna make it all better. I understand the need for allegiances and the idea of tribalism, I really do, but football is mere entertainment. Recently, the game has been portrayed less as the opiate of the masses and more like the bread and butter. I suppose my opinion means that I’m not a True Football Fan (©all men everywhere), but I reckon I just have a bit of perspective. Take down the St George’s flags! Put them in the cupboard til June 2008.