Serving up a snazzy return.

Yes, I'm back. Thank you, thank you, you're too kind. Andy, stifle that joyful weeping please. You're just embarrassing yourself. With the tearful greetings out of the way, let me proceed:

Blogging is a pursuit I enjoy, yet seem to rarely partake in. Perhaps it's because there's all the palaver of thinking of a clever title, or phrasing whatever random thoughts, that are no consequence to anyone else, in such a way as to make them appear entertaining or enlightening or, generally, at least legible. It's a delicate balance - pander to what you think people will like reading, and you'll be just an inferior version of a thousand novelists or more popular bloggers or the editor of a tabloid. But just spout out random occurrences that were "funny at the time, but I guess you had to be there" and you just end up being boring.

All meaningful musing about the backwater of the internet aside, a far more important and tragic event happened today. England were - like we all knew, but didn't dare believe - ejected with the usual German efficiency from the World Cup; the players, once heroes, are now being branded "overpaid prima donnas"; Capello, initially our saviour, is now an bumbling buffoon. The team is in disgrace, despite the fact that Germany were the superior side from the moment the game began, and for the last decade in fact.

Not that I think they deserve better. To watch these top-class footballers categorically fail to perform is just painful and embarrassing for everyone involved. Gerrard is paid £100 000 a week, but was unable to put in a single good cross in the whole ninety minutes. Rooney is considered by some to be the best striker in the world, and managed maybe three shots on target in roughly five hours of play. The individuals aren't entirely to blame - Rooney didn't get the supply - but that in itself is a problem. How can a team whose overall yearly salary is probably more than the domestic GDP of Algeria fail to get the ball to the only man who, if we're honest, can actually score for us on a regular basis?

Maybe I'm being unreasonable and unfair, but I feel entitled to it. After all, I've watched England score three times, grind out two draws, a shaky win, and a crushing defeat - hardly the glory the nation was expecting. My theory: scrap the whole team, retaining maybe Milner from the first XI we saw today. Build it up again, with players who can focus on internationals just as much as the inflated, money-crippled world of league football. Germany had a team with maybe four players who could feasibly, on an individual by individual basis, compete with their English counterparts at domestic level. When the scoreline is 4-1, and could've been worse, you know that there a lot of things wrong.

Well, that's my rant over. And to those of you in my rapt audience of three or four people who aren't interested in football - which I suspect may be all of you - I apologise for getting you all excited about some devastating new insight you're used to getting every time I post. But it's your own fault really: football is far better than anything you have in your life instead of it. Yes, Andy, even Justin Bieber.

But I understand your disappointment, so I'll make it up to you with this witty little anecdote. Me and my brother were playing football in the garden today (a more thrilling fifteen minutes than England's entire campaign), and I flicked the ball into Max's face. He crumpled to the floor; I ran past him and drilled a shot at the open goal, cackling triumphantly, only to see the ball rebound off the post and hit Max in the face again as he lay motionless in the grass. Brilliant stuff, eh?

What do you mean, no? Ah well. It was funny at the time, but I guess you had to be there.