"the music is your special friend,
dance on fire as it intends,
the music is your only friend,
until the end..."

Cue low flying army choppers and napalm explosions... ah... they don't make wars like they used to.
Remember those far off rosy days when if you declared war on a country it was on all their soveriegn citizens? When we could round them all up in internment camps for the duration?
And, more importantly, we could shoot, bomb, stab and bitch-slap the shit out of anyone of that nation without being dragged to jail or having our sovenir photos splashed all over the world press?
What it must have been like to be able to stomp on foreigners simply because they were foreigners. Now we have the Olympics, and football matches.
Which brings me to today's topic.
Liverpool vs foreigners in some distant scurvy land, tomorrow?
You see there's something fundamentaly wrong going on. They're stopping our previously convicted hooligans, sorry, fans, from travelling to the final. Which already means we're disadvantaged. Who is going to make the most noise at a game? A bunch of squeaky mammy's boys with nicely pressed scarves and a cup of hot chocolate, or a gang of seething skinheads armed with serious stabbing and stomping impliments and several dozen cans of foaming ale?
And... it's in some dodgy arse backwater, surely, as it's the European Final, it should be in the capital of Europe, England?

I just don't get it.

More worryingly perhaps the badgers have started close quarter harmony singing after midnight, it's not that their songs material isn't good, just last night they finished with a resounding little pop tune Kylie would give her right breast for, if she had one, sorry.
It's this post-midnight time plan I can't get the hang of, a time when any decent man is snuggled beneath his continental duvet dreaming languid dreams of a life as a FTV stylist... ho hum

...I love the smell of peanut butter in the morning.