A Scene From a Foreign Newsroom

“Morning, Geoff.”

“Morning, Phil.”

“What do we have today, then?”

“Er, to be honest, I dunno, Geoff. I was out getting rat-arsed until all hours last night. ‘Cor, me head!”

“I’m right there with you, son. Every time my mind wanders to Wayne Rooney’s metatarsal, I suddenly need a drink.”

“Gawd, don’t remind me. So what should we do, then?”

“Hmm…is there an African team playing today? We could get another patronizing backgrounder on their nation’s fraught transition to democracy and how the people’s joyous love of football helps it along.”

“Have you seen the scoreline from the Ghana match? Best not patronize those boys—they’re looking like they could shred England.”

“Really? Oh, my word. Well…Are USA playing today?”


“Wonderful! Our work here is done, my friend. We’ll send Marina out to find some fat Yanks who she can mock. And then we’ll have that bloke in Philly, Steven, do a blog post about the colourful ethnic stew, divided loyalties, et cetera. Chuck in a couple dodgy political referenes, and that will fire up the septics-haters nicely.

“Fantastic! Where do you fancy for lunch, then?”

“Preferably a licensed premise.”

“Of course!”


About zachdundas

Freelance journalist. Author of The Renegade Sportsman (Riverhead Books). Thank you.
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