Day Eight. "The police just ain't being imaginative," complained a spokesman for English football supporters on Sky News during their live, exclusive and uninterrupted coverage of the rioting in Charleroi, when the pretty, sleepy nature of the inoffensive Belgian town provoked the lads in to attempting to demolish it. ("Well, it woz asking for it, wonnit?").
So, if the Belgian constabulary had employed, say, three at the back with four across the main street and a spare man floating in the hole just behind the front two positioned outside the bar (where Combat 18 were guzzling barrels-o-lager, smashing up the joint and beating up the locals) none of this would have happened? Okay. Gothcha.
The match before the Big One (Portugal v Romania). Eamo Dunphy bet on a draw. Portugal scored the winner five minutes and 42 seconds into injury time. Funny old game, 'cept Eamo wasn't laughin'.
England v Germany. "Thirty years of Hurst never stopped me screaming," hummed John Barnes to himself as ITV showed a series of "good luck" messages from the Boys of 1966 to the Boys of 2000, including one from Bobby Moore's widow Stephanie, who assured the lads that "Bobby would want you to win".
It was a message that had me and Barnsie heaving and prompted Des to ask, "does that kind of history mean anything to the modern player?" "Yes," said Barnsie, "every time there's a major championship it's rammed down your throat."
Back on RTE Eamo was finding it a "difficult match to project my head into because you just don't know how bad the players are going to play". Chippy Brady had had enough of this wet blanket lark. He sighed a heavy sigh, sat up in his chair, cracked his knuckles and accused Eamo of being "over critical". The air crackled. John Toshack looked frightened ("and I thought things were tense in the Real Madrid dressing-room") and Bill pondered calling in the Montrose water cannon to cool the lads down. The match started just in time.
First half. Finesse. Subtlety. Skill. Imagination. Creativity. Divil a bit. Big Ron snuck blitzkrieg into a sentence (honest) before urging David Beckham to stop spraying "Hollywood balls" all over the pitch and spotting that Paul Scholes was "in some duress".
Half time. "England have improved from dire to pretty hopeless," snarled Eamo, a comment that had Tosh's shoulders vibrating violently. But, back on the BBC, Stuart Pearce thought "basically it's a belief situation here". Gary Lineker nodded, trying to pretend he knew what he meant.
RTE. Eamo dismissed Paul Ince as a "nothing player" who "shouldn't be on the pitch". (Later that night, on Match of the Day: "Ince has almost reinvented himself . . . I think he's been excellent," said Mark Lawro Lawrenson. (Don't look at me, I'm just as bamboozled as you are).
Second half. Shearer scored, a goal that was well-received by Motty Motson on the Beeb. "ShearaAAAaah!! Gooooal for Innnnglaaaand," as he put it, before very nearly swallowing his tongue. England won. Didn't you hear?
Full time. An emotional Kev Keegan threatened us with the notion of England going all the way in the tournament. Mother of Jesus. Eamo needed a change of Chinos on hearing this, dismissing Kev as "Forest Gump". But that's the thing with Kev, he's like a box a chocolates - you never know what you're gonna get.
ITV. Bobby Robson was optimistic about England's chances against Romania, who, he said, were depressed and distraught because they couldn't now qualify for the quarter-finals. "I thought they COULD qualify," whispered Tel Venables. "Emmmm . . . no, I don't think so," said Des. "But, em, err, ooh, they CAN qualify, can they? Yes they can. Well, there you are Bob, it might be a bit tighter than we think."
"I can't see them beating England, that's what's in my mind," insisted Bobby. "Well, they beat England before in the World Cup," replied Des. "Ah yes, but that's a long time ago, that's four years ago," said Bobby and Tel didn't have the heart to Tel him that the 1998 World Cup was, in fact, two years ago.
Day Nine. Slovenia v Spain. Ray "Stubbsie" Stubbs, Davo Leary and Dion Baile Atha Cliath are on duty on the BBC. Davo's a lovely man and a grand manager but, as I say, I'm strugglin' to listen to his punditry anymore, to be fair. So is Martin "funnily enough" O'Neill, funnily enough.
