Ah, another of those pesky days with no football matches. This is definitely a cause for concern, as I suspect the matches themselves are the only thing anchoring us to the actual reality of the World Cup and, indeed, the wider world in general. Without the football itself, we’re adrift in an endless void of pencil shavings and terribly rendered Belgian centre-backs. It’s hard. It’s crap drawing limbo. Roll on the quarter-finals, to restore some balance to our lives. I mean, without the soothing balm of football to keep us in check, look at what we churned out today:
I mean really, what the hell is that supposed to be? I drew this, and Sian coloured it, so we’re equally culpable for this monstrosity. A rare foray into co-operation, which we probably shouldn’t repeat on this evidence. Oh well, let’s have a look at what else crawled apologetically into the album today…
Yep, all pretty awful. Cheick Tiote’s face is somehow looking in two different directions simultaneously, while Omar Gonzalez smile is of a dimension which I’m pretty sure is anatomically impossible for a human being. But then, who am I to begrudge him his happiness?
Lucas Neill is worried. He’s worried about everything there is to worry about: his age, his mortality, climate change, the proliferation of oil companies drilling in the Arctic…the list goes on. These worries are writ large on his features, the furrows and crags that line his once youthful face serving as testament to the unceasing internal strife that all but consumes him as he frets away his days, worrying, worrying, always worrying. Also, Fabio Coentrao has silly hair.
Oh lord, it is very late. I will leave you with a pair of hulking Russians, both named Berezutski, because one hulking Russian named Berezutski is just never enough.
422 STICKERS DOWN.
218 STICKERS TO GO.
Alex & Sian
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