What an Outrage!

Frankly, Sweden were robbed. That is all there is to it, and yes Larsson's Codpiece was out for its annual scraping and of course than man in the shop supported Spain, and yes, he will be lynched by my hordes.

Take all that aside though, and just imagine if we'd claimed that point. Picking Sweden was very much like picking Minardi, Eddie the Eagle or Plymouth Argyle. I chose the plucky underdog.. and everyone loves an underdog with the possible exception of Jean Todt.

That one point would have thrown the group wide open and left Adam in line for a severe but fair cock-slapping from my good self. I'm not concerned though, after all its Spain and sooner or later something will make them fuck it all up, its inevitable.

Perhaps Fernando Torres' donkey will escape, or David Villa will get distracted by his spouse, and end up having a blazing pitchside row, which involves alot of arm expression, slapping and speaking unnaturally fast or maybe someone will play their national anthem - "The Mexican Hat Dance" - and they will all have to take siesta and sleep in deck chairs with straw hats over their eyes in respect. Either way, it will happen.

I've already started on a lego voodoo doll of David Villa, and if it works, he'll soon find himself nothing but a mere puddle, inside my microwave.

For now though, I turn my attention to the Russians, who have sobered up long enough to beat Greece. I consider them a threat, in the same way Ravi considers a Smorgasbord a Sandwich. I don't. Sure, as a Rangers fan, I kicked a few heads in after Zenit St. Petersburg, and learned the Russians are not to be underestimated after the met England in qualifying.

However, we must look at the facts. This is a team who spent 75 years queueing for a loaf of bread and some vinegar under communism, are they really going to have the energy left to beat Sweden? They will probably be distracted by all the Mafia hits they have to complete whilst there, the spying and the hunting reindeer for the harsh winters. The only real incentive to win is to avoid serving their remaining years in a Siberian Gulag.. which is just what happend to Dmitri Kharine. His crazy love of all things western; Money, Girls, Disco, Lack of police beatings, Freedom of speech, No chechen rebels and more money, meant he was never the Premier's favourite bloke really.

Guus Hiddink, a man with unlikely hair and a head shaped like Chippolata, encourages his players to swear in training and to joke about each others clubs. It isn't Sweden thats a stoned Dutch media studies project, its the Russian national football team.

They are shakier at the back than a Parkinson's sufferer operating a pneumatic drill and the Berezutsky twins are frankly the worst headers of the ball in the World today.

Freddie Ljungberg will use his dazzling looks to distract Aleksandr Anyukov, who I suspect holds a subscription to "Big boys in boots" magazine, Larsson will distract older team members by complaining, comparing ailments, sharing stories that don't go anywhere and misleading them into believeing its Pension day and they should be queueing in the post office, and Ibrahimovic, fresh from his acupuncture session, will use his newly realigned chakras to boot it home. Simple.

Bring it on I say.