It’s been a sporting month, hasn’t it? We were so so sure about the football, the ENtire nation had a wave, of frankly, completely unrealistic optimism. After all, the glory and pride of 66 is as thin as a pin, no one knows who any of those people are anymore anyway. Nobody is really talking about the fact that today’s ‘team’ have come crawling home with Wag tails between their legs. It was out of reach from the start.
Then there’s the tennis. We’re definitely going to win the tennis! Come on Murray! We all choose to ignore that you are particularly grumpy, English hating person because we love to cling to any possible glory we can muster. It’s this beast of competitiveness that explodes out of the Brits at any mention of sport bursting through our lion-tattooed chests and shouting down any Spaniard who might get in our way.