World Cup

Fixtures

Don’t get me wrong, I’d love nothing more
than to commune with Mother Nature.
But what can I do? It’s out of my hands:
Nigeria are playing Croatia.
 
What’s that? Another meal on your own?
You’re quite right, there is nothing bleaker.
But this is the big one. I’ve waited all day.
Switzerland – Costa Rica.
 
Sorry I shall miss your mum’s funeral
but I should be there in time for the wake.
Do understand, it’s Morocco – Iran
and for both teams there’s so much at stake.
 
I see that you’ve filed for divorce.
I’ll sign the papers as soon as I can,
just ten minutes more (plus time added on)
of Colombia versus Japan.

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Brenda

Brenda
Was a World Cup
Uncomprehender,
Could not understand
Roy’s four-week long
Bender.

Brenda
Had no interest
In Walter Zenga
Or the thigh strain
Of a Ghanaian
Defender.

Brenda
Was tired of the way
She’d pretend her
Marriage wasn’t mashed
Like a frog in a
Blender.

Brenda
Thought the chance
Of happiness slender
Whilst Roy continued
His World Cup
Agenda.

Brenda
Would listen to
Love Me Tender
And hoped Roy might be
Returned to
Sender.

The Bob Delusion

Every quadrennial
Bob bought a sticker album
In the hope of
Finding himself
Within its pages
And fulfilling an ambition
He’d held for ages
Of playing in the World Cup
Final stages.

Even upon reaching
The age of ninety-three
He would still
Get agitated
For this was a dream
Never abrogated
Despite the fact
He’d had both legs
Amputated.

Bob was something of an optimist.

Grilled Panini

After a bottle of gin
And a bottle of rum
You put my World Cup 78 album
Under the grill
And did it ill
Before passarelling out
On the carpet.

Both the Argentine squad section
And you
Were beyond redemption.
(You: non compos mentis.
Me: sine Mario Kempes)

Never mix liquors
And football stickers.

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