David Darlington (Anderson/Oakes) is like this

Christ, I think I had this. From a jumble sale or something.

Point of order: I'm in a London pub I know well, and their team is being presented with runners-up medals, and I am the only person watching. The only person. Do you cunts know what that would mean to me? No, you don't. Fuck you all.

Facetiousness aside, England should (should, I say) be proud of that. Sadly, I know what their media is, and they won't be. Mate: you were as shit as us in the group stage and nearly won the fucker. Do not feel ashamed of yourselves.

Do I detect the smell of burning coupon?

I think the phrase is "have a day off".

I feel this speaks volumes.

Times Square?

Wild kind of look to the day.

Jesus save us from commentators' banter.

Commentators, neither of whose names I care to recall, both so desperate to deep-throat Ronaldo - seriously, there's room for one of you round the back if you must - that neither of them noticed that he was so intent on posing and complaining, that he missed a very decent pass.

So... is Georgia v Portugal actually the only decent game of the last two weeks?

This aged well. This week, a team went out with four points...

Yeah, I'll have a bit of that.

Every now and then I remember that nobody has ever re-issued "Kim Appleby".

I have so gone native down here that I don't even think it's worth trying to get another drink at fucking HALF PAST TEN. What have I become?

It's like those pubs you nearly go into, but realize they've got live entertainment on. "I'd rather cut off my fucking hand" you think, and move on.

I see so much promoted content on here where I think "I'll read that... or I'll buy that... Oh fuck, its a christing podcast" and never give it a further thought.

Yep. Kick them in the gonads.