Ron has a nice big plasma screen in his place so we can watch the World Cup. The group stages are great. Roll in around ten to two and then sup pints and watch football until 10 at night.
Normally it’s relatively quiet but after enjoying Australia beat Japan with a late, late show better than anything Pat Kenny has ever done and the Czech Republic thrasing the USA 3-0 the last game of the day was Italy v Ghana.
Lucky Luciano invited some of his Italian friends to watch the game in Ron’s and they took time out from their waiting jobs and from cooking chips for most of the city to come and drink and watch football and enjoy the World Cup fever everyone has got.
There was Mario, Luigi, Luca, another Luca, another Luca, Marino, Antonio, Alessandro, Matteo, Alberto, Giuseppe, Fortunato and Roberto. Fair fucks to them, they drank like absolute cunts and then the game started and they drank even more. Pints too, none of those half-arsed glasses of beer or glasses of wine (which are ok at home but not ok in a pub, let’s be honest).
They’re very passionate about their football and even though there were lots of Italians Ron does not allow foreign languages to be spoken in his bar (bar certain phrases) so they had to remonstrate and gesticulate in English.
“Totti, you a focking piece of a sheet. You a mama she suck a de cock in the streets of Napoli”
“Oooh Mama, Pirlo, this is a not a pass. This is a focking present to the Africanos, cazza di merda!”
“Pirlo, you are a dirty shit on the a bottom of a my underpants. I a hate you. We should a leave you in a Roma.”
Pirlo shoots and scores.
“Pirlo! You are a the best. I a love you.”
In the second half Ghana were pressing for an equaliser and Italy were playing catenaccio (really typical Italian defensive football).
“Camoranesi, you a look like a de focking red indian. Spend a more time practice a football and less looking like a Wella woman and we can a tell a Wella woman a by the way she a wear her hair.”
“Iaquinta you need to stop a being a shit and remember Paolo Rossi or a Marco Tardelli. If you ever a come in my chip shop I a spit in your scampi.”
Ianquinta scores the second goal which seals the game for Italy.
“Iaquinta I a love you. You a marry my daughter. Only marry though. No a sex or I cut you cazzo off.”
In the end Italy won 2-0. The Italians drank some more and off they went to God knows where.
Tomorrow it’s South Korea and Togo, France v Switzerland and Brazil v Croatia. Luckily we don’t have any regulars from those countries.
We used to have a Frenchie, Rapping Robert (Rob-errrrrrr), who would bust a rhyme about Michel Platini, the Louvre and the TGV at the drop of a beret.
He died after shining a light into the eyes of Princess Diana’s driver all those years ago. When the car smooshed him into the concrete pillar they just made out his remains were bits of Diana that had shot out of her arse on impact.
Allez les bleus.