Football, football, football… I don’t really care for football. As a society, football seems to be the rallying call of patriotism and tribal manliness. With the age of conscription and tribal battles over, football seems to fill the void of that instinctive desire to bash an enemy. I suppose it’s healthy, we must unleash our instinctive urges at some point and to deny the instinctive urge to battle away is as idiotic as denying a desire to eat. It’s part and parcel of what got us this far in the chain of evolution. Personally I prefer formula one. That has me bouncing up and down with excitement, occasionally furious and often elated with chuffed enthusiasm for my team/driver to win. I also follow the six nations and other odd happening of rugby union and i suppose if you can call wrestling a sport then watching the British navy beat the Germans in war films is another favourite of mine. Football though, and this means the world cup, does nothing for me. I suppose it could be my natural inclination to avoid anything mainstream, which I do subconsciously; such prevents me from watching and enjoying football. A friend of mine gets around this by supporting the worst team he can ‘Tramere Rovers’. This I’ve been tempted myself to do, but the actual game itself leaves me nothing but bored. Unlike rugby, the players trip up every five minutes crying like wimp cherubs prior to 6 of the best (what parents refer to when talking about a school caning) and it just doesn’t do anything to leave me feeling awake or alert, or excited, or even happy. I think I’ll try and get into it this year…in-fact; I won’t, I never do, I shall ignore it and perhaps defiantly watch cricket instead.