suburban safari

One of the aspects of international sporting events I enjoy is hearing the national anthems of the competing countries. Tonight's World Cup match: England v Paraguay. First anthem was England's, God Save The Queen. Urgh. What a dirge. We had to sing it in Queensland of the 1950s, which was the era in which I did my schooling in the 1980s. The English really should consider taking on Rule Britannia officially. Yes, I know it's about Britain rather than England, but in the context of the song it's the same thing. It's full of pomp and bravado, just as an anthem should be.

The atmosphere changed utterly when the Paraguayan anthem started up. Paraguayos, Républica o muerte! translates as Paraguayans, The Republic or Death! and in contrast to the title, was jaunty and fun. The Paraguayans in the crowd were jumping around, belting it out with gusto. Leaves Advance Australia Fair exposed as the shameful, limp, written-for-recorder music that it is. I have anthem envy.

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Six minutes in to the match and England has scored already. That David Beckham, for all his silly tabloid courting, really can play football. He's come out onto the field with his hair all styled, and I can't help but worry about him. I have on several occasions raised a sweat in summer only to have any hair product I'm wearing run into my eyes and sting like all hell. Maybe he has a No Tears formula product?