Hair today...

This is what happens when you bet your hair on a football result!!

England win, Matt's scalp loses

The Croats were leading 'early doors', as Big Ron would say (athough he also called Marcel Desailly "a fucking lazy thick nigger" so maybe we shouldn't repeat too many things he'd say). But England bounced back - including two Rooney goals - and the final score was 4-2 to England.

Roll on Portugal on Thursday, but if you've been reading this blog you'll also be aware that it's roll on the barber tomorrow for a grade 1 shaving all over. Oh well, at least I'd added Rooney to my pathetic Euro 2004 dream team before the match.

It's all in the details

I mentioned a bet involving my hair in the previous post, and I thought it was best to get some clarification. So I sent Paul Allen - a witness to the proceedings - the following email:
"I was so drunk last night I had a kebab. But I'm pretty sure I wasn't drunk enough to bet my hair. And no-one would hold me to it would they?"

After a few agonising days wait while he was on holiday, this is the response:
"Hi Matt,
I've just got your email after my week off and I'm in suitably mellow mood. Not that mellow, however.
The executive committee of the Drunken Gambling Committee (P Allen, N. Palmer, D. Ludlow) has considered your request and rejected it on the grounds of cowardice, utter wimpiness and treason.
However, in recognition of the detrimental effect of the sentence on existing agreements with Jane, we will commute the term to a grade 1-all over should England fail to progress.
Should be a good game tonight!
Paul Allen"

Oh well, at least I won't have to get the bics out to finish the job.

Our final group game tonight may be painful viewing since I'll be watching it with Paul and Nick again. But we've already seen one major team take an early bath, are we Spain in disguise?

I really enjoyed my honeymoon in Croatia, and that'll be my excuse if you see me jumping up at the first Croat goal!

Hair Ball

There comes a time in every man's life when he does something stupid. On average it's about every three hours. I like to think I'm above average and can hold off on the stupidity for long periods, sometimes even months at a time. There are certain times when I'm more vulnerable to madness than others, usually after the eight pint of Carling or the fourth pint of Stella. Or when I've just suffered a big emotional set back.

It's unlikely that these conditions crop up at the same time, but Sunday night's England versus France football match had both in large doses. Losing the game 2-1 in the final moments when we'd spent the majority of the game in front was bad enough, but I'd watched the game in the pub so was also well lubricated. We didn't go as stupid as some of our fellow countrymen, although I like to think there was a high chav count in those disturbances. But it was then that a rather strange conversation cropped up.

"If we don't get through I'm going to cut my thumb off" said a man who we shall hereby refer to as Nick, since that's his name. This seemed harsh but fair, as I said the beer (Sagres) had been flowing nicely. Unfortunately, I have one of those brains that blanks things out when I get a bit too blotto so the rest of this conversation is a bit sketchy. From what I remember I talked Nick out of cutting his thumb off, and said if we don't get through he had to shave his head. In return, if we do get through I have to shave my head.

I haven't met with anyone from the pub since that discussion so I can't confirm or deny that this bet is still on. Or that the bet isn't the opposite (England through = hair; England out = Duncan Goodhew). When I told the missus about it the next day she said it was just a stupid drunken bet and no-one would expect me to stick to it. Her feminine view is very sane and rational, and completely misses the point that this is a stupid man bet. Welching on it is not an option.

So watching France play Croatia the other night was a harrowing experience. As a football fan I want France to crush the Croats, to give England the best chance of going through. But when they went 2-1 up against France there was a little part of my brain (or the stuff that's keeping it warm) that jumped for joy and thought I'd gotten out of the crazy bet.

With one game to go England have to beat or draw with Croatia to reach the next stage. I like to think I can't lose no matter what the result. If we go through it means more football to get passionate about, and if we don't I get to live without seeing myself with no hair for the first time since my baby photos.