I wanted to post this yesterday but it’s a day behind due to the time it took to draw a map for football.
After the match Sunday night there was actual wailing in the street, grown men bawling, I’ve never heard the like of it.
Footballs going Rome and it hurt those poor blokes deeply.
Ye olde English racism raised its ugly head and there really is no excuse, even if your team lost and it made you cry.
GorJuss entered the match spirit like a girl. She texted me during the game, had I noticed how well the Italian coaches were dressed? Then, Omg! The ref’s wearing bubblegum pink!
Very LGBT I thought. Last time I looked they wore all black. She’s ordered the referees pink socks on line and awaits their arrival excitedly.
All was very quiet the morning after, and today too, my guess is a country wide, two day hangover.
Cornflake popped by the studio after court yesterday morning. He took GorJuss and I for coffee in a local Italian restaurant. Congratulations on the win last night, I offered the waiter, you must be delighted.
I’m not Italian, I’m Portuguese, I’ve been sad for two weeks already. Last night I was supporting England.
Oh dear, poor chap. Double football gloom, gloomball, floogoom, floomboll? It needs a name, it’s a thing for sure.
Anyway, I must remember that not every waiter in an Italian restaurant is an Italian, even if they are foreign.
fat tart 