Written by Paxton Quigley
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Friday, 6 December 2013

image for The Secret England Footballer's Countdown to Brazil 2014: The Draw
Copabanca Beach: Look out girls, here I come

Italy, Uruguay and Costa Rica. Bloody hell.

I'm sure that Sepp hates England. Ever since Panorama did a good job of filleting him and FIFA with all those corrupt banana republic bastards he's had it in for us. I can't see us getting a result with that lot, apart from Costa Rica. Costa Rica? I didn't even know it was a country. It's part of Spain, innit? I'm sure I've been there for my hols, Costa Blanca, Costa Brava, Costa del Sol, all of the Costas. I've been there, pissed as a fart, red raw with the old sunburn, partying all night long and knocking off those Club 18-30 Essex birds who are only too glad to give it up to a Premier League footballer with England caps.

I know what you're thinking: will I be there doing the samba with those coffee coloured senoritas? Two words: Roy Hodgson. Let me write those words again: R-o-y H-o-d-g-s-o-n...and again: Roy Hodgson, England Manager.

Can you Adam and Eve that my international career lies in the hands of HIM? Strike a light. Bloody hell, the highlight of his playing career was playing for Gravesend & Northfleet in the Kent Floodlight Cup and now I'm beholden to him for my place in the squad for the greatest sporting event in the world. It beggars belief.

He's got to put me in the squad. Okay so I've had a bit of an up and down season after falling out with my club gaffer just because I shagged his wife. I mean if she wants to hang around with the first team flaunting her silicone tits while he's away scouting in Bosnia-Herzegovina it stands to reason that something's going to give. I'm only human, after all, but limiting me to just one Capitol One Cup tie against Scunthorpe so far is bang out of order. So I might have been sent off after 20 minutes for kicking their teenage playmaker but he kept nutmegging me, tricky little shit, and the hospital did manage to save his testicles, so what's the problem?

Hmmm, let's see who Roy has got to choose from. Cashley Cole and Lamps, past it, both of them. Stevie G, on his last legs too. Tubby Rooney. A trio of young Arsenal goody two shoes and that's about it apart from half a dozen Southampton journeymen. Bugger me, if Roy doesn't want a box-to-box enforcer and utility player with a tendency to violent conduct then he shouldn't be in the job. I liken myself to Aaron Ramsey, but with skill and determination.

I'll be there, no problemo.

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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