I just had to pop back in as i've just had one of the most surreal and incredible experiences of my life.
As i leapt from the shower and walked to the bedroom, feeling so fresh and clean with blind optimism, i was suddenly struck. I stopped in my tracks as i witnessed my England shirt hanging nobly from it's hanger, ready to receive my proud English frame. My window was slighty ajar, just enough to that the wind could catch the shirt, and make it ripple, as if to sing in tune with the breeze itself.
Next thing i knew i was gone, to another conciousness. I don't know if it was a flash back, a vision, some sort seizure or what. But i was not of this world. What i saw was so beautiful it was almost tangible, right before my eyes i saw the ghostly moments of English football. I saw...that tackle by Moore, i saw when Lineker scored, i saw Bobby...BELTING the ball, and by god if i didn't see Nobby dancing...
Next thing i knew i was back in the room, back in this cold harsh reality, the blustery winds of a rainy English summer stung my pale white skin. I lay, naked, contemplating whether i would ever see such beauty again, whether it would just be best to end it all now, as i could surely not know such euphoria a second time.
And just as i brought a pair of plastic scissors to my wrist, my head turned skywards, and what i saw was not the doom of unachievable dreams. What i saw was the 3 lions, staring proudly at me from the hanger. I couldn't help it, i burst in to tears of joy. I was so proud. I was English.
Most overhyped player in decades, dude was good at running around the pitch for 90 minutes in a fit of self-flagellation before moving the ball on to the players with actual class like Giggs and Scholes. Dude would be a slightly more energetic version of Whelan or Andrews in today's game, but all round just as mediocre and even more worthless because he wouldn't be allowed to break anyone's legs. 
, he just rocking with them for the time being.
