UnNews:The World Cup is Here

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Wednesday, May 30, 2018

The World Cup

It is time. Yes the World Cup rears its mighty head for the second time in this reporter’s Uncyclopedic career and it presents another chance to eke out in 5 minutes the same worn out comic aggrandisation of the event and the sport in general.

Fuck me, the World Cup is amazing. In comparison all other worldly events and experiences pale to a devastating degree. For four long years I toiled in the metaphorical cotton field of the Premier League, La Liga, sometimes the Bundesliga and never Ligue 1. I watched with a level of interest I would refer to as “not” as they flogged the same old dead bag of inflated pig intestine to yet again discover who had kicked the best balls in England, Spain, sometimes Germany and never France respectively.

But now a new age is dawning, the wheel of destiny has scraped sullenly but surely across the sandy dust-track of time, the mighty heavens have opened over Russia and a glorious flood of football will exude all over their welcoming faces. Now on an international scale never seen before, except for every 4 years proceeding this year for 100 years, the cream of the crop from each country, titans of football, no, titans of the ages, beautiful men with beautiful balls and haircuts us mere mortals could only dream of affording have united in a patriotic fashion and prepare for all-out war. Heads will clash, men will slide, people will fall over and roll about a bit. It’s going to be fucking insane.

So who will kick the best balls in this year’s international tournament of ball kicking? Who can apply kinetic energy to round sacks using one’s feet in a way that guides them beautifully to either a goal or another man’s feet with the most devastating proficiency? Who will be declared the winner on enough consecutive games by virtue of most balls kicked into a net to be finally crowned kings of ball kicking for all time maybe or 4 years at least? Germany probably. But there’s always the chance that the grace of Ronaldo could lead Portugal to victory, the mighty foot of Harry Kane could triumph for England or the vicious bite of Suarez will grasp glory for Uruguay. Still, probably Germany.

I’m not here to discuss the location of the cup but rather the sheer sphincter-busting brilliance that is the game itself but I feel I would be doing this article a disservice to not mention the hosts in some sort of comic capacity, so here goes. Putin will probably rig the tournament and in Russia football plays you. Done.

A ball

Anyway, back to the sphincter-busting majesty that is football. To even speak the word football feels like a sin, something that is so holy and so spiritual, surely to speak its name must be blasphemous. Pray forgive me Ronaldo and Messi, arch-lords of the footballing world, nay the whole world! I aim to only please you my masters, may your children grow humps of purest diamond that you may chip off and fashion into ear studs or something.

I’m not 100% sure, but I’m fairly sure you will have ejaculated at least once during the reading of this article. Don’t let the weak content of this article fool you; the writing of it has taken a lot longer than the initially estimated 5 minutes due to the continuous bathroom breaks I’ve needed to clean myself up. But that is the effect that such divinity, that such a level of blinding brilliance that etches my very retina’s with the indecipherable language of Gods, that such an overabundance of purest glory has upon a meek mortal like myself.

The world cup is soon, watch it on your tv at home, go to the pub and watch it with your mates or better yet fly to Russia, break into the stadium, get in a fight with some Russians and appear on a Youtube video demonstrating how great your country is. My only apprehension is that soon the world cup will once again be over, which means not only will my life be a dark void for the next four years, it also means I may have to write another mediocre article about the world cup ending and no one wants that, me especially.