Ashley Cole and Ledley King, laughing together. Sharing a laugh and a joke. Sorry, I meant a LAUGH and a JOKE. The shame. The shame of these two uncaring millionaires more interested in champagne than football who dare to dance on our World Cup grave. Cole was awful at left-back wasn't he? Wasn't he? He hasn't exactly hogged the headlines on the pitch. And King quite obviously bottled it and refused to reappear for his country after a brief cameo. One knee? He's only got one working knee? That's how bothered he is. One knee equates to half the required commitment. He can't even be bothered to train properly the lazy git. Laughing and joking, because he was no doubt too busy trying to work out where dirty jokes originate from so he can find the perfect one to share with his partner in crime. Neither of them are comparable to the likes of Gerrard; Liverpool's engine, England's saviour.

Astonishing that the guilty two have managed to forget about the 4-1 drubbing so quickly whilst the rest of the nation continues to drown in sorrow.

I say, hung, drawn and quartered and then once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George'! And let's not fret because we can build our future on our youngsters like Andy Carroll and Theo Walcott and Micah Richards who won't let us down, who will grow  together and will be blessed with our complete support and win us the next World Cup, yes win us the next World Cup. Because it's in our blood.

Rule Britannia.