A lot’s been happening, a lot except for me doing any form of web-logging my life… Probably cause I’ve ran out of adjectives. What do you do when you run out of words? Make up sounds, of course. Sounds like BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. or  VVVVVVVVOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. or maybe MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

[Cue smooth link from intro to paragraph one] It doesn’t matter how you spell the Vuvuzela horn sound, it doesn’t make the World Cup any less awesome. Some people say they’ve ruined the tournament and are just plain annoying, but it would take, I dunno, the death of my grand daughter to ruin the greatest sports even in the world for me. Not even Fabio Capello’s leathery ball bag face or ITV’s terrible coverage and fawning wankery over the African teams. Not even the amount of times the word ‘efficient’ is used to described Germany’s football. Not even England being really shit. Ok, the last one did ruin it a little bit, but it’s nice to watch the rest without having to worry about how poorly our nation is going to do in the next match. I just feel sorry for the manufacturers of St. George’s flags, I bet they made shitloads more due to the influx of ‘national pride’, expecting the lads to bring the trophy home and turn the whole country into one big, boring, fuck off red cross on white, and are now praying for us all to really get behind Jenson Button in the F1 by flying the flag from every orifice. It’s a shame it didn’t rain in England last Monday, because a load of lonely, soggy St. George flags would have looked quite poetic. As it is, everyone was just sunburnt and pissed off, like the aftermath of an announcement at Malaga International Airport saying the flight to Stansted has been delayed by 5 hours.

In a way, I was a little glad at England’s pathetic exit at the hands of Germany - perhaps our fans will stop harking back to the apparent glory days when we won the World Cup and the RAF was more formidable than a Ozil-led counter attack, realise that actually our national team is full of selfish arseholes who we don’t even like, and that the Germans really don’t give a fuck about this so-called rivalry. They’re not particularly happy that Hitler chose their nation to fight the Brits and kill Jews under, and besides, they’re too busy hating Holland, a country with a decent national team, to care anyway. The chants of ‘You dirty fucking Germans’, ‘There were five German bombers in the air’ (apparently hooligans can’t pronounce Die Luftwaffe) and pictures of fans dressed as Roundheads just prove how much the majority of our deluded fans live in the past. Yeah, we won a war 70 years ago, but that doesn’t make us any less shit a football team. I doubt chants of “you dirty fucking Arabs” or “there were 5 paki bombers on the tube” would have been quite as acceptable against Algeria, but then I guess we haven’t won any Middle Eastern conflicts yet so I suppose we don’t have a natural right to be racist to people our mighty armed forces have yet to defeat. Hmm.

Just ahead of the Fatherland’s crushing dominance over Argentina (another country we’re allowed to be racist to - YEAH TAKE THAT 4-0 DRUBBING YOU POORLY ARMED SOUTH AMERICAN BASTARDS, AT LEAST WE SCORED ONE, UNLIKE YOU IN THE FALKLANDS WHICH WE BEAT YOU IN, REMEMBER? BRITANNIA STILL RULES THE WAVES OFF THE COAST OF YOUR SHIT COUNTRY), Mesut Ozil’s volley against Ghana, Fabio Quagliarella’s divine chip against Slovakia and when Mick McCarthy said about a Nigerian player “I can’t pronounce that so I’ll just call him by his number”, my favourite moment of this wonderful tournament has to be the Quarter Final of Ghana vs. Uruguay. So many brilliant moments to talk about came from this game, firstly the absolutely priceless reaction from the Ghanaian fan park when Forlan equalised with his wonderstrike. The looks of shock are hilarious, it’s almost as if they’re watching Fight Club and they’ve just realised that Tyler Durden is just an imaginary character or something. The angry blow of the Vuvu is the best bit, brilliant anger portrayed through a meek trumpet.

If this wasn’t enough, we had literally the most dramatic end to extra time I can ever remember - the Uruguayan strike Luis Suarez being sent off in the dying seconds for saving a goal-bound header on the line with his hands, followed by Ghanaian star striker Asamoah Gyan smashing the resulting penalty against the bar and meaning the game would go to penalties, which Ghana then lost and were dumped out of the World Cup - the winning penalty audaciously chipped down the middle by Uruguay’s Abreu. Cool as fuck. They showed the Ghanaian reaction to this too, but it wasn’t that funny ‘cause I just felt so sorry for them; it’s never nice to see a load of people crying (unless they’re crying because we beat them in a war, of course) - especially the understandably inconsolable Gyan, who stumbled around the pitch crying his retinas out. It was like watching Comic Relief. Sad stuff emotionally, though in terms of excitement and drama, it was fucking brilliant. However if I was from Ghana and saw Suarez being lifted on his teammates’ shoulders after he’d cheated my team out of the World Cup, I would definitely throw my Vuvuzela at the TV, if I had either of them. To be fair, that save is definitely more important than all of his goals put together so far, so fair play to the lad.

Anyway, I’ve probably written all I can about this wonderful tournament for one night. I’m relishing the prospect of watching the Armada getting battered by the Nazis, they’re about as good at playing football as they are at planning naval attacks in the 16th century. To end, in all seriousness, I hope Miroslav Klose levels Ronaldo’s record of 15 World Cup goals, as he really does deserves it - the finest European striker of a generation, and one that doesn’t dive or cheat all over the place, just plays beautifully simple football. Some might even call it efficient…