"ON ME 'EAD SON, ON ME 'EAD!"

OR DOWN WITH THE MOB AND THEIR CONFOUNDED FOOTBALL HYSTERIA OR "OH, THOSE WORLD CUP BLUES

Well, folks, its on its way, thundering down upon us like an express train on steroids and, if you feel anything like I do about the prospect, you'll feel as though you are tied to the track with no hope of escape like that lady in the silent pictures that Stromboli and I are so fond of.

It would all be bad and bad enough but we look out of the caravan window and what do we see? None other than the sight of Beppo practising his ball skills (stop it!!!!) in his spare time. Have you ever seen someone practising "keepie ups" with two foot long shoes. No? Thought not. Add to that an orange wig and a big red nose and he looks like........well a proper clown - and not in a family entertainment sort of way. I'll say this for him though, he is a proper Millwall supporter - no-one likes him and he don't care!

No use bogging off abroad on holiday either! It'll be he same there. Only the colours and the language'll be different. Has the whole world gone mad? Even the Bedouins will be clustered round the old Panasonic Wide Screen Grrr!

Football? I just don't get it "mes amis". What's so special about 22 grown men kicking a leather ball around a field anyway? Don't they have proper jobs?

We actually had a similar game back in the jungle but at least there was a reason for it.

The object of our game was to get rid of members of the tribe who, in one way or another, had become liabilities to the rest of us.

We'd chase the miscreant through the jungle kicking coconuts aimed at his head. The one who scored the most "goals" got first dibs on the most nubile young female in the tribe. I'll tell you what, as incentives go you can keep your Porsches and Maseratis and Lamborghinis.

Needless to say, yours truly was absolutely hopeless at the "game" and once had to be stretchered off after my coconut bounced off the trunk of a Ban Yan tree and hit me square between the eyes.

As for the aforementioned miscreants, after the umpteenth missile connected with their noggins they usually got the message and were seldom seen again.

Brutal little savages, I hear you say, but, face it, it's no worse than what you lot can do to your Team Managers. Besides, we had a great esprit de corps - and there wasn't so much as a dodgy footballer's haircut between us!!!!!