World Cup Magic

Inspired by Alan Shearer’s exposé on the renaissance of feeling currently being enjoyed in South Africa’s townships (due of course to World Cup mysticism), I decided to do my own weighty piece on how Africans in London are coping with football ecstasy.

Whilst sauntering around Shepherd Market in an alcohol drawn stupor I stumbled upon some old unpronounceable African woman from Africa ...with quite a story to tell. After fleeing some war torn nowhere land twelve years ago she arrived on these soggy shores with nothing to her name but her name. Since then she has worked hard to build up a respectable life for herself in the all welcoming town of London. Commuting in from some concrete council nightmare in an SE abyss, she works sixty hour weeks down in the bowels of the Park Lane Hilton collecting, processing and eventually disposing of large amounts of faecal matter.

I asked her what the world cup being in Africa meant to her but unfortunately she couldn’t speak a lick of English so I’ve just had to guess her answer. "I am so proud that South Africa is hosting the World Cup. Hurrah for Africa. OH AFRICA! LA LA LA sing AFRICA sing sing AFRICA! LA LA Ooooooooooooooooooh iiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhh AFRICA!"

About a week later I met some other African gadgy (or whathaveyou) living it up in a detainment centre near Heathrow. Perusing his confidential files I discovered he’d been convicted of having an illegal sexuality in his native wherever and was sentenced to Present Death. Naturally skipping the country the gadge is now caught in the Kafkaesque purgatory of the UK Asylum system. However his lack of legal rep and rudimentary English suggests his chances of staying in purgatory for much longer are slim to shit. Baring this in mind I was keen to discover his thoughts on South Africa hosting the World Cup. Unfortunately though a big butch charpening omi said I wasn’t allowed to see him so I’ve just had to take a stab. "Ooooooooooooooooooooooh AFRICA LA LA WOOH IIEEEARRRH ARRRR OOOOOOOOOOH WAAAAAAAAAAA OOOOOOOHHHH ARRRRRRR EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH AFRICA!"

I also rubbed shoulders with a fourteen year old girl from Africa I met in a brothel near Wood Green. She was trafficked here from some wilderscape or whatnot at the age of nine and has since lead a steady life of imprisonment and forced Prostitution. Unfortunately her Employer said she was unable to comment at this time, however I think it’s safe to say she would almost certainly exclaim "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH OOOOOOOOOOOOH AFRICA AFRICA AFRICA! LA LA LA. AFRICA OOOH OOOH YEAH!" Well, this may not be exactly how she’d put it but the sentiment can’t be too askew.