This World Cup probably finds me as fickle as the rest of the nation when it comes to speculating England's chances of success.
Watching the match on Saturday I traversed the usual roller-coaster of emotions. Italy scored - "We're shit. Get stuffed. Turn off the television and rid me of this misery."
Sturridge equalised - "Definite Golden Boot contender, that young man."
Balotelli heads in an easy winner - "I'm supporting the Dutch for the rest of the tournament - even if we slaughter Uruguay and pull down Costa Rican pants - I'm supporting the Dutch.
This is my first WC back on English shores since 2002, and I'm currently watching, with open-mouthed astonishment, as Adrian Chiles presents the Portugal v Germany game with his pundits, Patrick Viera, Fabio Cannavaro, and, wait for it... Lee Dixon. Lee Dixon of 22 caps and one goal fame. How the fuck did Dixon make it to Brazil? You'd expect the likes of Dixon to be managing a Non League team... in the rain... while going through a messy divorce and battling alcohol addiction. How...the...fuck..is DIXON IN BRAZIL?
Oh well, to the main event...