Euro Schmuro. Brexit Schmexit. In or out, shake it all about. There's been a lot of talk about the referendum, maybe too much talk. There'll be none of it on this blog let me tell you. It's international football all the way from here til the final in Paris.
Who'll win it? Who'll flunk it? Which star players will shine? Which no-names will make a name for themselves? I've absolutely no idea. But that won't stop me making my usual wildly inaccurate predictions and sharing thoughts on the games and the British TV coverage from my sofa.
Want insights into tactics, scoops about squad numbers, and vivid descriptions of the atmosphere at the games? You'll get none of that here. I'll be sat on my sofa, probably with a non-alcoholic beverage, and spouting irreverent irrelevance.
The Armchair Manifesto is even if the game's shit, there's always an opportunity to spout some wit.
Join me.
Who'll win it? Who'll flunk it? Which star players will shine? Which no-names will make a name for themselves? I've absolutely no idea. But that won't stop me making my usual wildly inaccurate predictions and sharing thoughts on the games and the British TV coverage from my sofa.
Want insights into tactics, scoops about squad numbers, and vivid descriptions of the atmosphere at the games? You'll get none of that here. I'll be sat on my sofa, probably with a non-alcoholic beverage, and spouting irreverent irrelevance.
The Armchair Manifesto is even if the game's shit, there's always an opportunity to spout some wit.
Join me.
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