I don’t need to know the offside rule to know that this World Cup has been fucking hijacked

Welcome to South Africa. Once again, The Taxman have sent me packing on a trip to some random country in the middle of some random continent because, apparently, there is something important happening out here.

But what would I know about any sodding football tournament when I’m holed up here in my hotel room vomiting like a 19-year-old in a cider house on his birthday? How did they think a chronic asthmatic would feel 1,200 metres above sea level?

Weekend

Oh right, I get it, now you want me to report the weather, do you? Well fuck off. I can’t believe I’ve been sent out here without even a ticket to one of these bloody football matches. The view would be lovely, they said. Lots of hot African beauties, they told me. A safari park just down the road, a scrawled note on the back of my airline ticket promised. Well forget it, I’m going back to bed.

Monday

You know what, I don’t have to put up with this shit. I just bumped into this Jamaican guy at the hotel bar and suddenly I’ve got more match tickets than the entire population of Rustenburg. The Jamaican said he wouldn’t be needing them anymore, something about his career up the creek because ITV shoved a paddle up his arse. Or something. Anyway, I’m out of this dump. Durban here we come.

Tuesday

Ah, sea level. I’m here to see Nigeria take on South Korea. Not that I like football or anything. But it just so happens that my Jamaican friend gave his other tickets to these smoking hot Korean chicks with Kia Motors written across their tits. What’s that? You want to know the score? One-nil to me mate, one-nil to me.

Wednesday

Two-nil, and suddenly this trip isn’t turning out so bad after all. One quick note on the weather though. It’s fucking winter. YOU BASTARDS!

Thursday

So I’m in Cape Town now to see Holland play Cameroon. Fuck knows what round this is. Could be the final for all I know. One thing I’m sure of though is if that prick sat behind me blows that fucking horn again I’m going to make him swallow the fucking thing.

Friday

Can’t complain, really. I’ve just seen my third World Cup fixture, banged my fourth bird of the week, and best of all, none of them even spoke English. Sadly, my flight back home leaves tonight.

I’ve got a spare ticket for the Portugal v Brazil match later today and a young lad from the local township just said he’d give me his dad’s goat for it. I’d give him the ticket, but, a FIFA official just shot the animal in the head and said they’d do the same to me if I hand this ticket to anyone who doesn’t work for McDonald’s.

Now I’m no football expert, but I don’t need to know the offside rule to know that this World Cup has been fucking hijacked.