35. Poop Du Monde

 

And so the world game’s showpiece occasion is over. Despite Sky’s blanket coverage of the world game, meaning that the air of mystery surrounding a lot of the more exotic nations has been stripped away (wasn’t it just more fun when people like Socrates were rare unexposed commodities, like tiny shorted unicorns in the summer sun, only visible every four years?) the 2014 tournament produced its usual mix of sublime skill, lurid headlines, blossoming talents, beautiful Italian kits and tracksuits, diving, cheating, epic shithousing, and English embarrassment.

Players have gone back to their clubs, the lucky ones who were at the big show allowed an extra week off to recover before the grind of pointless five mile runs and pretending to feel some kind of connection with a twelve year old kid from Kuala Lumpur on a tour set up to sell mugs and key rings to subsidise their wages.

Some of these players are genuine superstars, giants of the game and part of every highlight reel worth its salt.

We’re interested in the others.

You’ve seen them, mainly in England but occasionally not. Fucking carthorses wheezing their way around club football making a holy show of themselves. Next thing you know you’re staring slack jawed and astonished as they line up for the anthems, and you’re left grumbling at the injustice of the world which sees them representing their country at the biggest single sport event in the world, while you’re limited to fitting an angry wank in between the 9 o’clock and 11 o’clock games. (Don’t lie to me, we both know…)

And so, without further ado here is the definitive What The Fuck Were They Doing At The World Cup? XI, and is of course dedicated to the likes of Gareth Bale….

 Goalkeeper

 Stipe Pletikosa (Country: Your Nan’s Tablecloth)

 A player so bad he couldn’t compete for a place at Spurs when Gomes was chucking every other shot in his own fucking net. Retired after the tournament, presumably out of embarrassment.

 Defence

 Sergio Ramos (Tippy Tappy Shite)

 *sigh* Look, I know I’m going to be alone in this, but here goes. I don’t care that he’s won the lot for club and country, and has over 100 caps. He’s a two bob walking red card Hackney Marshes cunt. There, I said it.

  

Philippe Senderos (Bank Account? What Bank Account?)

 Swiss cheese turns quicker than this donkey. You marvelled at how terrible he was, then added to the mirth by remembering he was shown the door by the footballing powerhouse of Fulham.

 Sebastian Coates (Monty Video)

 A defender so poor even Brendan Rodgers caught on and shipped him out. And kept Sakho.

 Mamadou Sakho (We Take August Off)

 Well will you look at that! A man with the positional sense and passing ability of a robot hoover, he is to building from the back what Lady Gaga is to speedway. If Liverpool don’t replace Suarez properly you will be hearing a lot more about this chap…

 Midfield

 Lukas Podolski (No, YOU Bombed OUR Chip Shops)

 Until we witnessed his embarrassing celebrations having done fuck all at the end of the final we all thought David May had set an impossibly high bar in that treble winning season. Put it this way, Ozil was shit all tournament and they still barely gave this cunt a kick. Selfie taking shitcunt.

 

Victor Moses (Fuck Football; Where Are Those Girls?)

 Charged about like a dog chasing a balloon for Palace. Then won the footballers’ lottery by being paid to do the same for Chelsea and Liverpool. He is so poor a player that he beat out Shola Ameobi, Peter Odemwinge, and John Obi Mikel as I can only have one player per country. Yeah.

 Marouane Fellaini (Um Bongo Um Bongo We Used To Run The Congo)

 With their midfield there really was no excuse to even take him. A one trick pony, and no one wants to see the trick any more. How bad? He beat Nacer Chadli to this spot. Indeed.

 Attack

 Danny Welbeck (A Triumph Of Nostalgia And A Cloud Of Bullshit Over Actual Ability)

 Every Man United fan remembers that iconic moment when Robin van Persie flew through the air and scored the headed goal of the tournament, culminating in a celebration that incorporated a low five with his club boss to be, Louis van Gaal. Sadly for them they also have to remember the crushing sense o0f dread they felt when they worked out that that pair of Dutch masters would have to work with this fucking useless lump. Strode about the world stage embarrassingly, like Emile Heskey in a Kid And Play wig. Absolute fucking toilet. Will win fifty caps.

 Georgios Samaras (We Invented Being Gay)

 Atrocious for City before they struck oil, has spent several seasons at Celtic winning trophies, which is like Stephen Hawking winning The Quiet Game in a power cut. Does have nice hair mind you…

Fred (Hipster Mecca)

 Booed off by his adoring fans after perfecting his impression of that Make A Wish kid who played for Seattle the other day. Has since retired from international football to go back to his first love, playing rhythm guitar for Daryl Hall.

Honourable Mentions

Respect must be paid to the towering football talents only good enough for the bench too. Arguably these are even shitter I suppose….

Alex Song (Nenge Mboko XI)

Martin Demichelis (They’re Called The Malvinas)

Saloman Kalou (We Speak French Because Of Colonialism, Not Because We’re Cool)

Jozy Altidore (We’ve Bombed Everybody’s Chip Shops)

Leroy Fer (She’s In The Attic)

So that’s it, a festival to bring the world together, and celebrate people’s differences and embrace them. Next up, 2018 and 2022 in illegal-to-be-gay Russia and Qatar.

See you then….