This is pretty much the architectural equivalent of a lobster-red sunburn tanned flabby 40 year old bloke in a tight nylon England shirt, 3/4 length cargo shorts and a bulldog tattoo :
So much so, in fact, that a person of that desciption walking up the road behind us barked "what you cunts taking pictures of?" before we hastily retreated to the safety of Sha Deezy's ride and got the hell outta dodge.
I really tried to get into the Eng-er-lund spirit of things yesterday. My BFF and I headed to a bar in the early afternoon to keep one eye on the Argentina game and one eye on the vodka & waters (it's all about the paradoxical balance of liver-rotting poison and the nectar of life) and ran into some extended associates, but come 5 o'clock when cretins with painted faces were turning up in droves and breaking into sing-a-longs of Three Lions and Wonderwall, any vague pretense of bonhomie was replaced by contempt and it was time to bounce.
On the plus side of things, though, I made the money I lost betting on a 1 - 1 draw on the France vs. Uruguay game on friday night back by successfully calling the England vs. America game as a 1 - 1 draw. U.S.A! U.S.A! U.S.A!
Clarence Boddicker : "Well, give the man a hand!"
On a related note, DJ's superb chronicle of the World Cup, and Dom's World Cup wall chart of rap part 1 are essential reading.