Paperjam

Too much media training in football these days. All the post match interviews are boring as anything, it's all "Well the three points is the most important thing", "At the end of the day that extra bit of quality told", or even "Smithy's put in a great cross and I've manged to get on the end of it." Yawn.

There is the occaisonal rogue in the pack:

• Ferguson sometinmes has his post match snifter a bit early and starts releasing the Glasweigan expletives on Sky.
• Big fat racist Ron Atkinson (although officially not funny anymore) once said of a linesman "I know where he should have put his flag up, and he'd have got plenty of help."
• Comic legend Gordon Strachan, who always had a sarcy line no matter how badly Cov had got stuffed that weekend, e.g. "At tiimes in the second half, we sank so low I felt like Captain Nemo."

The absolute king of the post match media scrum is Plymouth manager Ian Holloway. Armed with a south-west accent and a complete disregard for sensible answers, he dishes out all sorts of eccentric responses to the dull questions that he gets asked by footy journo's. His finest hour is probably the interview where he compared a scruffy QPR win to a night out on the pull, almost surreal in it's brilliance, you can watch it on YouTube here.

Further quotes have been collected together on a Wikipedia page, the product of a mind touched by genius. Take this motivational example: "I don't see the problem with footballers taking their shirts off after scoring a goal? They enjoy it and the young ladies enjoy it too. I suppose thats one of the main reasons women come to football games, to see the young men take their shirts off. Of course they'd have to go and watch another game because my lads are as ugly as sin."

In recent years comments like "Keith ate all the pies (and the pasties too)", "Keith is a fine figure of two men" and "For fucks sake, hide your lunch, here comes Dooley", may have lead some to believe that we considered Keith Dooley to be a touch on the portly side.

We at paper-jam are now happy to set the record straight and confirm that Mr Dooley is in fact one of the finest athletes that Runcorn has ever been privileged to call a resident. A chiselled example of muscular masculinity, not only will he be setting a new course record at the widow-making Great North Run in the near future (in the the over-30's IT Support Bloke category), but he is also doing the whole thing carrying a small child on his shoulders. What a guy.

We therefore apologise unreservedly for any confusion caused and ask that you all sponsor Keith, who will be running to raise money for the Multiple Sclerosis Society, via his page on the justgiving.co.uk web site.

Thank you for your attention.

I heard about this the other day : "Federer is wearing a white jacket on to the court, with his own logo on the front" - sounds rubbish, right?

Oddly, I think it really works. Although it does look like he's trying to compete with the Ralph Lauren designed Wimbledon uniform, which is rather natty too.

Not bad.

On the ladies front, we have Bethanie Mattek, who got slaughtered today by Venus Williams, and her rather fabulous knee-high socks. Officer, put the cuffs on now - I'm having bad thoughts.

Well the Mexico v Argentina match was great wasn't it? Although while watching it we all noted that either side would probably absolutely hammer England.

Speaking of Sven and his men, I have yet to receive the e-mail asking not to bet on them any more (after the injuries to Owen and that last minute travesty of an equaliser to make it 2-2) but it can can only be a matter of time. My demonic/extremely unlucky influence has already been called into question in certain quarters.

So for what hopefully won't be their last game, I have trudged back to Ladbrokes and (hopeless romantic that I am) have put a quid on England to win 2-0. Additionally, after watching Frank Lampard have more shots than any other player in the entire competition, there is two pounds on him to score first. Come on Frank, daddy needs a new pair of shoes, no really, I do.

Hmmmm. My dream of leaving the daily grind for an exotic life of professional gambling is fading faster than the chances of Wembley stadium being finished sometime before the London Olympics Since we last spoke, money has been thrown away on:

- The open goal spurning Podolski getting one for Germany against Poland (oh how I swore at the TV that night)

- Advertising starlet Joe Cole scoring against T&T

- Freak legged brazilian full-back Carlos scoring first against the might of Australia (did you see the state of that free kick, shocking)

All dead losses unfortunately. So now it is up to England to recoup some cash for me. I'm going for moody, moody Michael Owen (5/1) to bang in the first goal against the Swedes, plus I reckon that we will triumph 2-1 against our managers country of origin (at 8/1) despite the fact that we haven't beaten them since 1968 and Sven is putting out a suspiciously weakened side.

My ongoing bet on hulking Italian striker Luca Toni to be the golden boot is looking completely laughable, he looks like he couldn't hit water if he fell out of a boat.

Well those bastards on the FIFA technical committee certainly kicked me in the bollocks when they announced that, because Beckham's majestic freekick glanced off some Paraguayan's eybrows, it was an own-goal. Then there was the crossbar-bothering Luca Toni who falls over an awful lot for someone who is 6 foot 5 inches tall and built like a wardrobe. Still Italy are playing the good ol' USA next and they looked absolutely appalling didn't they? So some hope for Toni to progress towards the golden boot if he can stop thinking about doing his hair for a few minutes.

Oh well, hoping to recoup at least a few quid I did an accumulator (betting on a number of results to all come in) on a bunch of absolute certainties; Mexico, Portugal, Italy, France and Brazil to all win their opening games against fairly mediocre looking opposition.

- Mexico were what pundits diplomatically call "Direct" in dispatching Iran.

- Figo was excellent for Portugal as they beat Angola.

- Italy did well to put two past the powerful (i.e. dirty) Ghana, including some fantastic rolling around on the floor in fake agony.

- Brazil somehow beat Croatia, despite fielding the laziest frontmen ever seen in Adriano and Ronaldo, the latter making me feel particularly thin and quick.

Of course France messed the whole thing up by playing out the most horrific no-score bore-draw it has ever been my misfortune to catch the second half of. Apparently the first half was worse. Shudder. Even Mick McCarthy was taking the piss by saying that the French needed a "Revolution", Please Mick, no more of that.

In addition to these losses I punted two quid away on toothsome trickster Ronaldinho to score first against Croatia, but of course he didn't. Consequently I am six quid down so far and my dream of professional gambling riches is looking a touch shaky to say the least.

On the plus side the world cup has been fairly entertaining so far, especially some of the BBC punditry. Bringing in the Brazilian elbow merchant Leonardo is a particular masterstroke, he sits there looking like a very confused hairdresser, trying to understand the likes of Strachan, Shearer and Hansen. Occasionally he interjects the odd comment like "Mmmmmmm, Ronaldinho. Nice action. Very well mmmmm". Martin O'Neill arguing with Marcel Desailly the other night was ace too.

Sigh, going to work when the weather is this good and the world cup is about to kick off is a total nightmare. While I was in the office last week (drawing yet more diagrams involving little squares with little arrows between them on a whiteboard) my mind started to wander. Surely there must be a job where you can get out and enjoy the summer as well as watching as much of the footy as possible.

Then the answer hit me: professional gambler, I could give that a go, how hard can it be?

Anyway, in preparation for this radical career change I have set myself a challenge. Over the course of the world cup I have allocated myself fifty quid to bet on whatever seems likely to win me more money and at the end I'll know whether I have what it takes to stand in the bookies all day, smoking roll-ups and swearing at horses.

To kick things off, I've put two bets on.

1. A pound on Italian striker Luca Toni to be the golden boot at 18/1. He's scored 30 odd goals in the yawn-inducing defenders paradise that is Serie A so I reckon he should be able to bag a few against the likes of Ghana and the USA.

2. Two pounds on David Beckham to open the scoring against Paraguay. The odds were 12/1 and have since gone down once everyone saw the ball they are using bend all over the shop from long range German strikes. The logic here is that Paraguay are probably going to kick Crouch and Owen all over the park and Becks takes all the free kicks.

There will be an update soon, maybe even a chart of some decription.

From an article on the BBC web site reflecting the reaction to the news that the FA want Scolari to be the new England coach. Clearly there is a rogue sports journalist at work in the corporation...

>Former England midfielder Peter Reid was disappointed that an English coach had been overlooked. > >"I have done my pro license like Sam Allardyce, Alan Curbishley and Steve McClaren," said Reid. > >"We paid £7,000 to do them and then when it comes to the top job none of the English lads get it, which I find really disappointing."

Oh yes, its the top half of the table for the Sky Blues following another win which was made up of:

• Everyone booing referee Uriah Rennie before the game had even started.
• A dour first half punctuated by amusing chants regarding the sexual orientation of the Brighton contingent "We can see you holding hands" was a highlight, to which they responded "You're too ugly to be gay". Touche.
• A proper old dust up at the back of the NTL stand, the perpetrator was removed by about 10 stewards to cries of "Wanker, wanker" from pretty much everyone in the place.
• Dele "Pele" Adebola taking the complete piss out of the Brighton defence, only to find that his teammates were not on the same wavelength, time and again.
• A single moment of quality when 87 year-old Dennis Wise nodded in an inviting Marcus Hall cross.
• The fans saluting Wise with "He's only five foot four, he'll break your fucking jaw", which he seemed to enjoy.
• Cov completely dominating the second half, with Wise outstanding and deserving of his second goal. At this point (to the tune of "Go West") a large proportion of the Cov crowd started singing "Your dad - takes it up the ass" to a now morose Seagulls faithfull.

For a more accurate depiction of events check out LAST. Needless to say if we can keep this sort of form up it might be a top half finish this year!