Yep. The World Cup is ours. You heard it here first.
Sure. We missed chances. Lots of chances. Sure we had a ridiculously soft penalty given against our boys, and a stonewall penalty not given for Harry Kane getting manhandled in the Tunisian box.
But this is the England way. This is just how we do things. It’s never plain sailing, it’s never easy, but it is always nailbiting, and it is always, always exciting.
So congratulations to you, Gareth, you have overcome the very first hurdle. You have stopped Harry Kane taking corners (and have also beaten Tunisia).
Panama are up next, Kane is going to score another brace and if Jesse Lingard and Delle Alli remeber to bring their shooting boots it could well be a rout.
From the opening minutes of the game we knew it was going to be ours, the Jules Rimet, and Stonesy lad climbing above the hapless Tunisians to power a header towards the top corner was the omen.
Only a miracle injurying-himself-in-the-process save from the goalkeeper kept it out, and that just meant there was the Spitfire pilot-looking, sharpshooting, goal-claiming motherfucker Sir Harry Kane to quiff in the rebound.
We are England. Big Sam is gone, after only a match, but here we are, at an actual World Cup, ABSOLUTELY DOMINATING SET PIECES WITH THE BOYS.
Another corner in the 91st minute was our salvation. Harry Maguire and Harry Maguire’s granite tower block head was there, flicking on the ball for that man HK to do his thing and dart in at the far post like he darts in on easy kills in Fortnite.
We are England. We are going to win the World Cup. It is our destiny.
Football isn’t coming home. It never even left.
