... we lost, then? Ah well. Schade.
For all my misplaced fervor last WorldCuptime, I'm struggling to imagine in which circumstances I might have cared less about tonight's unjustifiable-on-any-level matadoria versus Spain. Especially after the grinning-ginga left Robbo hanging heavily on a line to dry, to shield his baffling bonus of Lumpalard on the left.
(Just how's he going to score any deflections from there, eh...?)
Still, I always had Mac and his disturbing island of tufty hair, frontwards, amid a struggle of back-receding red, down as a wrong'un from his early-days drinks reception at which he allowed himself to be completely and utterly dominated by the fellow repel-some redhead Kay Burley.
And so an un'appy era begins...
Oh, if only, if only... Que sera, sera:
The three Ms indeed...
(Sorry: small 'm', for Cookcopyrightreasons...)
Has any England side, since 1990,