July 11, 2010. Ireland win the World Cup in a 1-0 win over Argentina…

The country explodes in celebration, the recession is cancelled, the world applauds. Meanwhile, back in Montrose…

“Ireland did not win the World Cup! No football team won this tournament, Bill.

[Raising voice to talk over three other pundits now wearing comedy green hats with clapping hands on the peak] This so-called football tournament was dragged into the Stygian darkness of Satan’s anti-football by our representitives.

“I’m not saying Trapattoni has done a bad job but we should be ashamed of ourselves for celebrating this – the final nail in the coffin of this beautifaul sport.

“Real football people will bloody well know how I feel. Real fooball people. [while he jabs a pen at Kenny Cunningham]

“The faceless corporate war mongerers who ran this bloody circus are laughing all the way to the bank. Bread and fucking circuses, eh Gilesey?

[throws the pen at Ronnie Whelan’s head] “How dare they serve up a binary, industrial, mechanical, art-less scoreline. 1-0? 1-0?! Football is art, music, theatre on, this, our biggest stage. Argentina played football wrapped in silk. Trap sent our poor lads out to play in dirty cotton.

This performance [aggressively punching quotation marks in the air] is an Orwellian nightmare from which I am yet to wake. Big Brother is watching. Big bollixing Brother. Big pricking, bollixing Brother.

“Well no. No! Two and two – Gilesy will tell ye too, he went to Synge St – two and two is four. This World Cup has disgraced the nation.

“Hyperbole? Ah Bill, jaysus. We’re a fucking laughing stock, Bill.”