Shiny things

I wrote a medium length personal post, but I am not happy with it, so I am holding it over.

I don't know about sport, but what a disgraceful shame it is when for a football (soccer) player receives a red card, must leave the field for the rest of the game and cannot play in the next game. Well that's a bugger for the US soccer team for it's next match. He is an important and skilled player.

It does however seem that FIFA boss Infantino is in an incestuous relationship with #47. The Orange McNugget gave Infantile a call and asked him to fix it, a lo and behold, it was fixed. Team USA will have its important player restored for the next US match.

What an absolute disgrace. Many have called FIFA a very corrupt institution and over the years, a lot of evidence has been gathered and presented, but has much exceeded this blatancy? Every competing team should be outraged by this, and I think diplomatic representations should be made. 

If any country wants to host the World Cup in the future, be careful what you citizens wish for.

Later edit: Well, Belgium certainly sorted the FIFA corruption out well and truly, with a score of 4 goals, 3 more than the US. I don't blame the US; it is FIFA that's the issue here. This book written by an Australia woman about FIFA corruption sounds interesting if football is your thing; Whatever It Takes - the inside story of the FIFA way.

To cheer up this glum post, look at this lovely car, I guess to be used by a wedding party, parked almost across the road at the Royce Hotel. Google says it is a 1949 Rolls Royce Silver Wraith. They don't make 'em like that anymore. 

The Grand Pricks finale

In memory of her late Ricardo, Ingrid will have been glued to the screen watching the Australian Grand Prix, as Rick did. No, Ingrid?

As I type just before 9pm, fireworks have gone off so that's the end the Grand Prix and the most awful invasion of inner Melbourne.

Sadly Australia's Oscar Piastri bumped into a wall before reaching the start line and a wheel fell off. He's not a bad looking dude.

No worries mate. Next time.

Realising you are a dinosaur

With the company of two young men, I am reminded daily that I am a dinosaur. Not intentionally, but it is obvious. I am not so old that I don't enjoy hearing Phyllis sing along in his bathroom to Dupa Lipa's Training Season. Whatever happens in the future, I will always associate the song with Phyllis. 

My step sister, who I chatted to at the funeral yesterday, has brought up her twin granddaughters and at the age of 14, they love playing soccer. 

Step Sister to them: Have you seen the film Bend it like Beckham? 

Them: No Gran. What is Beckham?

Step Sister: The soccer player. David Beckham, of course.

Them: Never heard of him.

I would guess if further questioned, they would not know who the Spice Girls are either.

I feel sorry for the soccer younguns who never experienced the rise and never fallen Beckham.