What the fuck is wrong with England fans? Correction! What is wrong with some low-level, scumbag England fans. Leave the boy Hargreaves alone! Don’t boo him! Don’t jeer him! What the fuck is that all about? The man has lifted more silverware than David Beckham has had nannies. Check out his record:

Intercontinental Cup Winners 2001; European Super Cup winner 2001; Bundesliga Champions 2000-01, 2002-03, 2004-05, 2005-06; UEFA Champions League Winner 2000-01; German League Cup Winner 2000-01; German Cup winners 2002-03, 2005-06.

Let’s compare this to Lampard’s:

Football League (Carling) Cup winners 2004-05; FA (Barclaycard) Premiership Champions 2004-05, 2005-06

And what about Gerrard?

Football League (Worthington’s) Cup winners 2000-01, 2002-03; FA Cup winners 2000-01, 2005-06; UEFA Cup winners 2000-01; European Super Cup winner 2001; Football League (Carling) Cup runner’s up 2004-05; UEFA Champions League winner 2004-05; FIFA World Club Championship runner up 2005.

Hargreaves deserves to be in the England squad and many would argue that he would be well placed in the first eleven. He certainly played a good game against Sweden, picking up the ball and distributing well so that Lampard could play his favourite attacking game.

So what if he speaks with a Canadian accent? So what if he lives in Germany? So what if he wears his jumper around his shoulders from time to time? And so what if he’s not a lad, a geezer, a chav, a fella, a bruv ?

To all you twats who booed him at the match and who booed him down my local, pick your fucking neanderthal knuckles from off the floor and get a fucking life. What’s wrong with a bit of culture, a bit of intelligence? Feeling threatened are you?

And just think: who else is going to be able to help Theo with his homework?

But spare a thought for this man, the embattled Togo coach Otto Pfister who, until this morning, didn’t even know whether his team would turn out against the Swiss today. Not only was his skipper sent off in the opener against South Korea, but a long running pay dispute between the players and their national Football Association has made for a rocky couple of days. Refusing to board their flight to Dortmund it took an intervention by FIFA diplomats to persuade the debutants to put in a performance today. Clearly feeling more than a little fucked off by the whole thing he sparked up in front of millions during the first match. Take a deep breath, Otto. It’ll all come out in the wash!

All hail King John, a tower of strength and courage. With woad like fire in his veins and the strength of a thousand men, he stands like a wall between victory and defeat. King John holds us all, like Atlas, on his shoulders. A leader of people, his steely, determined eyes betray nothing but passion for team and country.

Stand proud, England! Cometh the man, cometh the hour!

Owen’s sounding more confident claiming he can get the Golden Boot this year. Perhaps that’s a bit optimistic, Michael, but I’d be made up if you did. And Rooney could be gracing us with his post-metatarsal presence, a massive lift to the team and fans alike.

But this match was always going to cause me some stress. The five o’clock kick off is going to mean some creative thinking across the country today in order to get out of work and to the pub on time. Do I go straight to the pub on my scooter ensuring I get there for kick off? That would mean being the only sober person in a pub full of revellers. Do I drop the scooter home and rely on London buses to get me there? Risky. Do I leave the scooter at home altogether and rely on public transport all the way? Riskier still.

Either way, get me to the pub on time. It’s going to be a blinder

As I was watching the match, probably shortly after Sven had substituted Downing for Owen, and Hargreaves for Cole, our most creative player on the day, a familiar feeling settled about me. It’s a difficult one to describe, a cocktail of hope and excitement laced with miserable foreboding and a twist of defeatism. Oh, and lets add a dash of hopelessness for good measure.

I shared this feeling with my mates who were biting their fingernails all about me.

“That’s what it feels like to be a Man City fan,” said one of them. “That’s how I feel week in week out.”

And Christ, guys, that’s got to be one hell of a miserable existence!

I remember that gruesome match he played against Blackburn in 2004 when he broke his tibia and fibula.  The bottom half of his shin dangled from his leg.  Being a touch squeamish it was all I could do to keep my beer down!  Apparantly a similar sort of thing happened this time round.

For the average bloke on the street playing in the World Cup is a fantasy, a schoolboy dream.  Just imagine how it must feel to get the opportunity to make that dream come true only to have it snatched from you at the eleventh hour.

As the French say… Unlucky!

I’ve got to say that I’m developing a bit of a soft spot for Peter Crouch. For a start, the top half of his face doesn’t really match the bottom half and that’s quite endearing really. Secondly he’s come in to replace Rooney, a pretty tough job by anyone’s reckoning and I always support the underdog. Lastly, and probably quite predictably, I like the way he moves.

Speaking as a girl who recently took part in a dance-off at a barbecue whilst wearing a Brian May wig, stupid dancing is right up there with beer and fags as ingredients for a good night out. Now when I performed my favourite breakdance move I was pissed and I was with my closest friends. Despite that, I still felt a bit of a twat. But Crouch was sober and was being watched by millions of people. Now that takes a thick skin and an ability to take the piss out of yourself. Two qualities that any England footballer should have in spades.

More dancing, Peter! More dancing!!!

Oh, and some more goals too, if that can be arranged!

So many questions.  Where does that leave Gerrard?  What about Carragher?  Should he have been there in the first place?  Will Aaron Lennon get a look in with Beckham dominant on the right wing?  Will Gary Neville ever smile? 

Who knows?  And that’s the problem.  I know we beat Hungary and that’s a really good thing but this close to the World Cup you’d actually be hoping that we had some kind of solid structure.  Instead it feels like our Sven is still tinkering with the team as if it was some ropey J-Reg Ford Capri he’d won from Frank Butcher in a poker game.

I’m just not feeling settled!

Robbie clearly worked hard to attract massive names from around the world to take part. Maradona braved the heckling to play and alien lookalike Colina even took himself out of retirement to oversee proceedings.

At half time chilled-out Rud Gullit, manager for the Rest of The World team, made several substitutions and ended up fielding five soccer legends alongside the celebrities rather than the four allowed by the rules (naughty boy). His argument was that you couldn’t ask these legends to fly in from around the globe and not give them at least a half. Fair enough, no?

Oh no. Not for Robbie. When Colina wandered over to run it past the posturing England captain (I know, it’s a fucking joke isn’t it?) Robbie said one word, “No”, before walking away. That’s right, before walking away from Colina himself. I might be forgiven for thinking that with it being a friendly exhibition match to raise money for underprivileged children around the world, Robbie might have done the decent thing and put his astronomical ego to one side for 45 minutes and just got on with it.

Colinaâ??s reaction said it all:

â??He said no!!!â? he mouthed to one of his assistants with a mixture of disbelief and derision written across his face.

Robbie, you are in my very considered opinion, a twat. Now fuck off and let us get on with the World Cup!

Since thereâ??s no actual football to talk about yet (except for the B Team game, and frankly if embryonic Theo Walcott isnâ??t even in the starting eleven for that then what the fuck is going on?) Iâ??ve been busy setting up my ITV fantasy football team:

GK P Cech (CZE)
GK J Lehmann (GER)

DF G Heinze (ARG)
DF R Carlos (BRA)
DF J Terry (ENG)
DF A Nesta (ITA)
DF K Toure (IVC)

MF P Nedved (CZE)
MF S Gerrard (ENG)
MF C Makelele (FRA)
MF M Essien (GHA)
MF F Ljungberg (SWE)

ST Ronaldinho (BRA)
ST T Henry (FRA)
ST F Totti (ITA)

So these are my Allstars. Reckon you can do better? Or are you scared of being beaten by a girl? Go here and pit your wits (such as they are) against me. Email me your team or put it in the comments box and weâ??ll see who comes out on top.

Thatâ??s all for now.

COME ON ENGLAND