Panto season comes early

A momentary truce to a thousand year old enmity was declared last night.  English fans fell in behind the French and willed on their new best mates to trounce their World Cup conquerors, Portugal.  And to make Rooney vanquisher, Ronaldo, cry, of course.

The Vibe Bar in Brick Lane, furnished with benches, trestle tables, stands, three big screens, two bars, and hundreds of Gallic types.  (NB: the beret capped, stripe shirted, thin mustached sort was conspicuously absent “non!  ze football?  It eez for imbeciles!”).  The lone Portuguese supporter I noted was quickly engulfed by Gauls descending en masse shortly before kick off.  (Next time, perhaps somewhere in Kennington or Stockwell instead).  The cavernous warehouse space, swallowing and regurgitating the commentary with hollow booms could not drown out the continual cries of allez! allez! and the more than occasional merde!

Raccoons and summertime

A million English flags lie rotting in skips around the country as London cranked up the temperature to a sweltering 32° Celsius. Dodging pinkish half naked folk wandering about, and the hordes of beer toting pubgoers spilling onto London pavements, I headed to the ICA to check out Princess Raccoon, a 2005 Japanese film starring Zhang Zi Yi.

And it turned out to be very peculiar indeed. Directed by 84 year old Seijun Suzuki, Princess Raccoon tells the tale of *ahem* a raccoon princess (Zhang) who falls in love with the human, Prince Amechiro (Jô Odagiri). A fairytale of sorts, it involves an old mad king determined to retain his status as the ‘fairest in the kingdom’, a magical frog of paradise, an ostrich ninja and lots of bouncing plastic raccoons as the Princess and the Prince seek to overcome all obstacles on the path to true love.

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside

A 48 hour hiatus from 19 days straight and 53 matches of the World Cup means withdrawal shakes and a chance to catch up blog-wise with what I’ve been up to.

London turned on a warm one last Sunday as we headed down to Brighton for Dylan Moran, Terre a Terre and a coma-inducing 90 minutes or so in a crowded pub watching England bore Ecuador into submission. The only amusing incident involved little old Granny, in usual Granny uniform of pale hair, floral dress, grey cardigan and sturdy shoes, jump into the pub, shout out “Eng-er-land!” and do a little shimmy before exiting as abruptly. Bless.

Warne-y – he’s ruuude

If anyone needed any further proof that Shane Warne should stick to cricket, drinking beer and text messaging and stay the hell away from (1) opening his mouth (2) picking up a pen and (3) most of all, commenting on ‘soccer’, you need look no further.

The Times really should have known better.

Freeview Box (& Aussie) Victory!!

Hah! Should have relied on this idiot-proof solution two days ago: turning the bedeviled piece of electronic equipment off and then on has yielded picture success! Anyway, despite being sorted out telly-wise, couldn’t resist also peeking at the GU minute-by-minute reports… err… particularly the Brazil/Japan one.

Well thank goodness Australia is through – after a messy game which will see the ref’s head roll no doubt. Still, if the Aussie-Croat connection wasn’t confusing enough, the Aussie/Italy match is going to present a whole lotta soul searching for another section of Australian society. Mind you, this could, arguably, happen at all of Australia’s upcoming matches.

Was not graced by the comments of his holy smugness Shane Warne, drafted in by the Beeb as the ‘link’ to erm… Aussie football during the Brazil/Oz match. Granted, he is a sportsman and has more than a passing acquaintance with a round ball (smaller, redder) but methinks the link is still somewhat tenuous.

The Beeb has been a tad more successful with the Brazilian link by engaging Leonardo as a pundit. Can I say, blushing quite girlishly, that Leonardo is quite the most handsome (ex) footballer ever. Although being surrounded by Alan Hansen and a bespectacled high-pitched squeaky scotsman can’t hurt. Even Gary Lineker, ageing quite nicely, fails to impact with the gleaming Brazilian around.

World Cup tidbits – Part 2

More footy.  Apologies to those who thought this would be a football free zone.  I don't unfurl my soccer partiality except once every four years.  Blame it on a father who 'encouraged' us ie. manhandled us kids out of bed in the dead of night to blearily watch brightly coloured men with funny haircuts prance around a field after a round ball in far flung corners of the globe (from Australia, everywhere is far flung) and getting into a tiddle when things (or the ball) didn't go their way.

More news of interest:

• Anterior cruciate ligament injury puts paid to Michael Owen's World Cup.  As someone who has suffered the same calamity – although obviously, my nation's hopes haven't taken a corresponding blow – i can only grimace in sympathy and offer him my best wishes.  Perhaps we can be ACL post op support buddies, Michael?
• Jürgen Klinsmann, renowned diver, writher, grinner and now German coach and possible tinderstick for his country's rediscovery of national pride, is *gasp* one of the good guys.  There are rumors also that he actually donates his entire coaching fee to the children's charity he set up.  Hard to see Sven doing the same.

Random World Cup tidbits – part 1

Aah and so endeth the Sweden/England game with a 2-2 draw. And English fans the world over breathe a collective sigh of relief. The English performance still did not convince (from reading the GU and Beeb updates) but at least they won’t be meeting Germany next.

Points of amusement/interest so far World Cup-wise:

• The possibility that English fans are trying to plot a course whereby their team wins the trophy, without actually meeting any first-rate teams (which terrifies them, of course).
• Franz Beckenbauer, once a normal coloured captain of the 1974 World Cup winning West German team and coach of the 1990 World Cup winning West German team, his latest incarnation as chairman of the World Cup 2006 Organising Committee sees him reach dangerously high permatanned levels. Or is it just me?
• Harry Kewell’s outburst at the ref after the Brazil/Oz game. Apparently Mr Kewell repeatedly assaulted the ref with the words ‘effg shit, mate’. Way to go, Harry, with trying to convince the world that Australians can be eloquent. Is it too much to ask for a lttle more creativity, naughty word-wise?
• Tunisian left back Anis Ayari, angry after being substituted off during the Tunisia/Spain match, throwing a plastic cup around, gesticulating, muttering and then attempting to get his shirt off. For 5 mins. With no luck. One only hopes that no one informs him that this was broadcast on BBC1 directly after the match.

Grrrrrrrr!

The digital freeview box at home (SAGEM idt 64, btw) is ‘apparently’ downloading software which it needs to function more smoothly. Meanwhile, the screen is grey and fuzzy and NOT SHOWING THE ENGLAND-SWEDEN MATCH which I rushed home for. I am relying on updates on the Guardian and the BBC – which aren’t too bad when one is keeping up with the games at work but not when there is an allegedly working TV in the vicinity! Why, oh why, has this software download been scheduled for today of all days! And what kind of half-baked technology is this? Twenty first century my frickin’ ass – software downloads for digital freeview boxes should NOT take 30mins plus to complete. I rushed home for Freddie Ljunberg and get THIS!!!

England expects

Three years and 51.5 weeks have come and gone. Yet again, the silliest of all silly seasons is about to commence. And as of Friday, the next five weeks will see (guaranteed):

• global productivity (save, perhaps in North America) grind to a halt
• grown men crying
• (the majority of) womenkind sighing, getting on with it and ignoring behaviour which would otherwise be branded madness but is a common afflication of Beautiful Game devotees
• the airing of facts and statistics – from the simple run-of-the-mill ‘that’s ker-azy!’ (ie. footballer’s worst barnets) to the downright certifiable (Sepp Blatter has apparently checked into a 15,000 Euro a night German hotel and has his newspaper ironed every morning by his butler. It’s true.).
• ditto with false hope and superstitious mumbo jumbo. I have been reliably informed that the odds on England winning have been shortened to 6-1, exactly the same odds as England had before the 1966 World Cup. That’s gotta mean, something, eh?

In slightly off the topic news (but not so off it’s festering and green and greeting you with a ‘hello, mommy’), the warm-hearted chaps at London city law firm Baker & McKenzie – that’ll be the PARTNERS, to you minionboy – have warned boingboing.net that they will be monitoring the website and will be taking legal action in the event of activity infringing on their client Infront Sports Media’s rights by streaming World Cup footage etc. etc.. Boingboing has understandably given them the two fingered salute (just keeping it civil) but I’m figuring the Baker & McKenzie paralegal or trainee who’s landed the job of monitoring boingboing’s website is having the last laugh. Who would have thought that all those years slogging it through lawschool, avoiding the pub in favour of an intimate relationship with a library desk, would actually pay off with some fun?

Anyway, here’s a couple of photos of Londonium gearing up for Friday’s festivities. Unfortunately I keep missing beflagged cars shooting past me and could only manage this stationary shot outside me ‘ome. The flags don’t seem that prominent on these piddly shots but they’re there, trust me.