WORLD CUP going great, the both of Argentina and England in the second rounds, and Y’Boy amaze at how good life could be. One child back from England, next one ent leave yet and, as he look up from he computer, Y’Boy see the Madam radiant in a yoga pose and Y’Boy know he coulda lime with whichever yogi did invent downward dog.

Moments like that, most people just let out one of them “involuntary sigh of pleasure” you does read ‘bout in beauty spa advertisement and soft porn chick lit, and Y’Boy own sigh come out long and sweet.

Most people who get one-them little moments of perception does snuggle down and enjoy the sweetness; Y’Boy problem is, how Y’Boy stop, the sweetest delight does invariably sour into a nagging worry ‘bout when it will end.

Not the sweetness, eh, but the ability to contemplate it at all.

LIKE “business acumen”, “street smarts” or “nous”, there’s a special world for the kind of intelligence I have; it’s called, “stupidity” and nothing brings it out more than the World Cup.

For me, the World Cup beats every other athletic event hands-down; if all of sport were a 100-metres dash, the World Cup would win gold in a millisecond, the Olympics would take 15 seconds to win silver and the eventual bronze, Test cricket, would still be lacing up its shoes; put another, far better way, the World Cup would put the kind of cut-arse on the Olympics that Germany put on Brasil four years ago.

IN HIS APPALLING, but entirely predictable, “defence” of the sanctity of marriage as being between a penis and a vagina on Monday, the Catholic archbishop actually had the cojones to invoke truth! Ah, but doesn’t God work in mysterious ways his hypocrites to reveal.

Look at the picture of the half-dozen old men – average age about 80, two in dresses (if not quite in drag), one proudly sworn to complete personal sexual ignorance – look at six or seven old men, holding hands and grinning for the camera, and ask yourself if what they are working for is not the denial of homosexuality, but of sexuality itself. Ask yourself which of those close-minded dullards could get a hot date on a Friday night and you have the answer as to why they have risen to the top of their respective religions.

All religions extant today exist only to deny the female, the gender which gives life itself. Without an omnipotent, angry male God, a torrent of superstition and the threat of eternal damnation to force it, who in their right mind would put a man in charge of anything ahead of a woman other than a barbecue, a stag party or a fist fight?

I’m going to take one look at that little yellow nip and he will quake in his boots. They’re all afraid of me. All those European wah-wah-crybaby leaders want to make me take part in a group without Vladdie.

IN THEIR 20 and 18 years of life, respectively, I have never told my children a lie about anything important (though I may have artfully dodged a question or two). Accordingly, my children have accepted everything I’ve sincerely told them except for two propositions too preposterous to reconcile with the modern evidence: 1. When I was their age, in order to have a phone, you first had to construct a building (if only a telephone-booth); and 2. When I was their age, West Indies had the best cricket team in the world.

They’d quicker believe in the God they understand was created by man than that West Indies could once bat for 90 overs.