The World Cup is always a magical time for me. It takes me back to my childhood, standing on the terraces at Wigan with my old Dad, eatin’ pies. I never found out what we were doing there. I hated football, and my father was mostly into elephant polo. Nor did he ever give me any of his pies. I remember when I was eight he said to me, “You’re basically just an arsehole.”
June 21, 2006 5:49 AM