Film review: SPIONE (Fritz Lang, 1928)

A criminal mastermind, Haghi, wishes to get his hand on some Japanese government secrets. In order to do so, he enlists the talents of the Russian spy Sonja Baranikowa, who must use her feminine wiles to procure information from a debonair young spy, known only as his number, 326. Haghi's immoral plans are considerably complicated, however, when Sonja falls for the man she is supposed to be manipulating.

Film review: METROPOLIS (Fritz Lang, 1927)

The city of Metropolis is separated into the wealthy upper class, who live an opulent lifestyle above the ground. Below the ground are the impoverished labourers, who’s hard work keeps the city running so the rich can enjoy themselves.

Freder, the son of the calculating overlord who oversees Metropolis, Joh Fredersen, was living in blissful ignorance until one day, Maria, a saintly woman who instils hope in the beleaguered workmen, infiltrates his lavish habitat and implores him for his help.

Hottest Footballers in Euro 2016.

According to my more-than-a-little dubious definition of male beauty, of course.

 10. Aaron Ramsey (Wales) 

I simply can't use a recent picture because that peroxide blonde job doesn't do him any favours. I prefer his hair colour when it's natural.

09. Kyle Lafferty (Northern Ireland)

I don't usually like tats on a chap, but I'll make an exception for Kyle.

08. Matts Hummels (Germany) 

hello, sailor

07. Cesc Fàbregas (Spain) 

I never admitted to finding him Cescy when he played for Arsenal or Rob Brown's team, funny, that.

06. Jan Vertonghen (Belgium)

In the premier league, he's one of the slyest bellends around. But something about his face resembles that of Nick from Zootropolis. Which I mean as a compliment, of course.

05. Vedran Corluka (Croatia)  

I could just get lost in his eyes. And he's willing to play on with a face full of blood, too. Hero.

04. Hugo Lloris (France) 

The finest beard in football since Jamie Redknapp. And I adore his Gallic charm.

03. Eden Hazard (Belgium) 

Belgium's captain has the 100th juiciest bum in the world as ranked by The Guardian. A health hazard, if you will.

02. Antoine Griezmann (France) 

Dat face is a freaking work of art. Jean-Pierre Léaud's character in Les 400 coups is now no longer my favourite Antoine.

01. Gary Cahill (England) 

Sun's out, gun's out, mofos.

The Day I Met Per Mertesacker in Sushisamba.

I was in Sushisamba with Anna (my best friend who this blog is named after) on Saturday evening, and out of the corner of my eye, I clocked someone who resembled PM a lot. I wasn't certain it was him though (the lighting in the Sushisamba bars is very dim), so I took a photo on my phone to investigate. As soon as the flash went off, the guy in question covered his face, which was basically an admission of guilt on his part. Not to be deterred by the fact that he obviously wanted a quiet drink and not be bothered, I gulped down my wine for a bit of Dutch courage, and approached the 6'6'' giant.

To Mertesacker's credit, he was very classy and obliging given this sort of thing happens to him all the time. I didn't give any intimations that I was, in fact, a Chelsea fan, and instead just gabbled 'I can't believe it's really you!!!' Smooth. But, despite recognising what an inconvenience I was, I still forced his friend to take a second photo, in case the first didn't turn out that well.

Koscielny and... Mertesacker? HAHA.

And, much as it will damage my Chelsea Girl credentials to concede it, Mertesacker is much more handsome up close and in photos than he is during games when he's being oafish and getting sent off against us because he can't deal with Costa.

One last thing: when I bothered his friend to take another photo, Mertesacker said something to the friend in German and he looked at my breasts. Given that I'm not quite dressed like a nun and the revealingness of the dress (I bought it because I thought it had an element of Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch about it), we'll allow Mertesacker this one.

Pub review: BIERPALAST (Temple)

Watching football and drinking beer pretty much go hand-in-hand where I’m from. However, having attended Bath University (a sports uni that was big on its drinking games) and being an economist, when it comes to beer, I usually opt for the one that will get me the drunkest for the least money, as opposed to that which tastes the best. Pre-Chelsea game, I can be found hovering around Fulham Broadway tube station with a can of Stella in my hand, dodging the security guards who will give me a talking to if they find me. 

Such is the extensiveness of my drinking beer that I’ve actually grown to like the terrible brews like Stella and Foster’s. However, when I have a classier brand, like Peroni, I can taste a discernible difference, so obviously my tastebuds haven’t completely gone in the beer department. For that reason, I thought I’d check out a German beer house.

The first beer I went for was a wheat beer with undertones of vanilla and banana, and it was wonderful. I was brave and went for a whole stein (more than two pints worth), so it was lucky that I picked one I liked so much. The next brew was a darker wheat, which I enjoyed less (I consider Corona and Peroni superior), but it was sure as hell nicer than Carling. 

For food, I had meatloaf and gravy, which was fine, but the pub was a little miserly on the gravy for my liking (I’d been to a British pub just days before and my meal then had been lathered in gravy, just how I like it). Because I didn't mix my alcohols, my hangover the next day wasn't too strong, yet by the time I left the pub, I was in extremely high spirits, so the alcohol had done its short-term job.

The experience of Bierpalast, on the whole, was hugely enjoyable. The waiters were more than happy to stop and impart their expertise, and the guy who told me about the beers clearly had a fondness for the vanilla-tinted one, so I feel he recommended well. The majority of the pub is situated in the basement, and it wasn’t anywhere near as over-crowded as a nearby pub that I’d walked past on my way there from Temple station. 

One of the most off-putting elements of most pubs on a Friday at 7pm is just how choc-a-bloc full of people it is. It can be very claustrophobic, and damn near impossible to find a seat for two people. But for some reason this place was populated without being over-crowded, and neither did it blast some obnoxious popular music so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think. Come to think of it, the fact that it stayed true to its German roots rather than pandering to British tastes, probably dissuaded the more nationalist clientele, but for the likes of me with no nationalistic agenda who just want a good beer, I was super-grateful. For people who enjoy a good brew, I would give this place a huge thumbs up.

Grade: A

If you'd like me to review your pub, drop me an email at lemon_and_lime7@hotmail.com

The Chelsea Redemption.

On Saturday night, in Bavaria, Chelsea Football Club finally got their hands on the thing that has eluded them for so long: the Champions League trophy. Years of heartbreak, disappointment, last-minute goals and tears were purged with the most cathartic of penalty kicks from Didier Drogba. All those moments of hurt were forgotten as Chelsea players and fans celebrated this moment, this fantastic, unforgettable moment, as they were crowned European Champions of 2012.





Chelsea had very much been the underdogs going into this final, and after a few minutes played, it wasn’t hard to see why. The final this year was held in Munich and Bayern Munich looked very much like the home side, Chelsea, the anxious guests at a party they knew they felt they may not be welcome to. The two sides both lined up in what looked like 4-2-3-1 formations, but whereas Robben and Ribery created havoc for Chelsea all night down the wings, the West London club had the rather less glamorous pairing of Kalou down the right and Ryan Bertrand down the left. The 22-year-old youngster was a surprise name on the teamsheet on Saturday, having never even played in a CL game for Chelsea before. If stagefright got to the young lad, he certainly didn’t show it, and he and his mentor Cole did a commendable job of trying to stifle the siege of goal attempts that came their way.

Despite Bayern’s dominance throughout the game, Chelsea never lost their focus and Frank Lampard and John Obi Mikel were faultless in their holding midfield roles. The latter lost all confidence under Andre Villas-Boas, when, following an error from the Nigerian leading to Liverpool scoring a goal at Stamford Bridge in November, AVB then froze him out. Roberto di Matteo, however, does not operate in such a draconian way as the Portuguese did (which might explain why he’s a Champions League winner and AVB’s at home eating a Pot Noodle and counting his payoff, js), and he injected confidence and belief back into Mikel. As such, the midfielder paid back his trusting gaffer richly with a fabulously controlled and shrewd performance on Saturday. That our possession statistics finished 45% to us when it felt like it’d been a lot less owed a lot to Mikel’s possession.

Despite doing the best they could to neuter the influx of Bayern attack, however, we all felt a goal from the German side was inevitable. And that it was, on the 83rd minute Muller headed the ball into the night from a great cross from Kroos. It seemed like the end, and marred an otherwise faultless performance from Luiz (who was ball-watching at the time of the goal), Cole (who got drawn towards the ball), and Cech (who could possibly reacted better.) That was it then, it seemed. Had Bayern Munich seen through the 1-0 lead and lifted the Champions League trophy, who could really begrudge them it? They’d played the better football all night.

But Chelsea were not having any of it. Whilst fans across the world fought back tears as we were staring in the face of another grim Champions League disappointment, Roberto di Matteo took off Kalou for Torres. The Ivorian has seen a renaissance under RDM, being yet another one of the player who was unfairly frozen out during AVB’s reign of terror (Kalou conceded one late penalty against Valencia in the group stages and as punishment for his mistake didn’t see a start for weeks. This ~flawless tactic used by Andre Village-Idiot was shown up beautifully when di Matteo put trust in the young Ivorian to play against Benfica, and he scored the winner that night. Just noticin’), but the Champions League final wasn’t one of his better games, and he was rightfully subbed for Torres.

And it was Torres who made a nuisance of himself near the corner flag, forcing a challenge from Contento to win Chelsea a corner as the clock ticked down. His compatriot Juan Mata took the corner, who had up until then had a relatively quiet game; Mata excels in matches where Chelsea play football, but when we churn out our brand of catenaccio as we did on Saturday night and also in the two legs vs Barca, his talents are left wanting. Frank Lampard and Gary Cahill did a jolly job of running around in the Bayern penalty area to confuse their defenders as to who to mark, leaving Drogba to jump up and head the most important goal of his life into the back of the net. It was a thumping goal, as good a header as you’ll ever see and it meant that, three minutes from time, having been comfortably on the backfoot for the entirety of the game, somehow, Chelsea were going to drag this into extra time. We were still in it! In fact, on the 94th minute when Mata was fouled and Chelsea were awarded an inviting free kick, some wondered if Drogba would win it then. As such, he blazed his shot over.



But the drama was far from over. In the third minute of extra time, Ribery found himself shimming into the penalty area. Chelsea have always been weaker defending down the right, as exhibited by Boswinga making a few suicidal moves during the game that relied on the fingertips of Cech to rescue. This was exemplified again, when Drogba, attempting to make an ill-advised tackle on Ribery much like he had done against Fabregas at Camp Nou, found himself clipping the Frenchman’s heels and conceding a penalty.
Just like Drogba’s foul on Fabregas at Camp Nou, he got away with it. Former Chelseabung Arjen Robben stepped up to take the penalty. The Dutchman had once missed for Chelsea in a semi final second leg penalty shoot-out at Liverpool, which led to the London club from getting dumped out of the CL in 2007, but overall, he is a consistent penalty taker, having scored one against Real Madrid in the previous round for Bayern. But luck was on Chelsea’s side. Luck and – let’s face it – some cheeky gamesmanship from John Obi Mikel, who found himself sledging Robben in the most Joe Hartesque way, consistently telling the Dutchman Cech would save his shot. And that Cech did. Chelsea fans breathed a huge sigh of relief, thanking their luck stars whilst at the same time getting increasingly agitated. So far in this competition we’d shown that we’ve probably got more lives than Super Mario. But even Super Mario dies eventually.

So then it was time for penalty shoot-outs. David Luiz, who had been in pain since about the 20th minute, stayed on the pitch. Paulo Ferreira was supposed to come on for Mata but once the cold realisation of penalties occurred, RDM chose to keep the diminutive Spaniard on the pitch. Chelsea lost the coin toss which meant that, as if playing a German team on their home soil on penalties wasn’t daunting enough, we now had to contend with taking said penalties in front of their fans. Bayern Munich had never lost a penalty shoot-out in Europe, we were told, and Chelsea had never won one.

And so the shoot-out began. Philipp Lahm, who missed one against Real Madrid in the semi finals, exhibited guts to take the first one, and he scored, though Cech got very close to it. Mata went first for Chelsea. The fear was etched across the little guy’s face and when he missed, it didn’t come as a huge surprise. Chelsea fans accepted defeat. It was 1-0 on penalty shoot-outs against a German side. We’d ridden our luck a long way to get where we were. Time to call it a day.

But if that was the script, the Chelsea players sure as hell weren’t adhering to it, for, after Mario Gomez scored a solid penalty, David Luiz stepped up to take Chelsea’s second. Now, I don’t think I’m alone here when I say I physically grimaced when I saw the Brazillian do his insanely long run-up to the penalty. I won’t lie, I thought he was going to blast it over. But Luiz proved me and all his detractors wrong by slamming it emphatically into the net with such force that you half expected the goal frame to fall down.

Manuel Neuer, who had already gotten a confidence boost by keeping Mata’s out, then cemented his hero status for Bayern fans by taking a cool penalty which squirmed into the net under Cech’s body. Frank Lampard had initially been down to take Chelsea’s fifth penalty, but as we were trailing 3-1 at that point and another miss would have made the deficit insurmountable to come back from, chose to go third. Neuer’s decision to go to the right was a solid one as that is the majority of where Lampard hits his penalties. However, had he paid closer attention, he might have noticed that Chelsea’s hunchbacked hero also has another penalty-taking pattern; when the penalty is of high pressure, more often than not, Lamps will smash it down the middle. This is what he did against van der Saar last season and against Hart this season. And that was what he did on Saturday night to make it 3-2.

Then stepped up Ivica Olic. English football fans might still have nightmares of the Croatian, as he scored one of the three goals at Wembley the night that we failed to qualify for Euro 2008. But there was definitely a trace of fear on his face as he took his penalty, and Cech read both his expression and his body language perfectly, in doing so making a fantastic one-handed save to keep it out. Then it was Ashley Cole for Chelsea. The Englishman missed last season in a penalty shoot-out against Everton to allow the Merseyside team to advance at their expense, but aside from that, he scores great penalties. That people all over the world were hating on him and willing him on to miss was a huge factor in why he scored, in my opinion. 3-3.

And then Bastian Schweinsteiger, the bloke who scored the decisive penalty against Real Madrid in the semi-final, stepped up to take Bayern Munich’s last penalty. “Well he’s German, that’s a forgone conclusion,” I said to my brother. And, as with my various bouts of duff decision-making in life, with boys and predicting football scores in the past, Bungy was wrong again. :p Perhaps it was his slightly staggered run that cost him, but Schweinsteiger’s technique in taking his penalty wasn’t bad at all. Cech may have gotten a fingertip to it to tip it onto the post. But it meant that, incredibly, despite missing our first penalty, the score was tied at 3-3 and we still had a guy to take the penalty.



And it couldn’t be more apt that the man to take the decisive penalty for Chelsea should be Didier Drogba. Just before taking his penalty, he gave Neuer the eyes. The German went the wrong way, and, despite his penalty lacking the power of Luiz, Lampard and Cole’s, having sent Neuer the wrong way, the ball hit the net, meaning Chelsea won the penalty shoot-out and the Champions League final.

Years of hurt and heartbreak were instantly erased with that penalty kick, that beautiful, cathartic penalty kick. Players fell to the ground, redemptive tears streaming down their faces as the fantastic realisation that they’d done it, they’d really done it! All that money, all those big names, all those years of going tantalisingly close without reaching the final outcome… and now it had.

Glee, euphoria, delight, redemption, atonement… not enough words to describe how ecstatic I was then, how ecstatic I was four hours after, how ecstatic I was the next day, how ecstatic I am now and how ecstatic I will always be when I think about Saturday 19th May, at the Allianz Arena.

In a night that needed heroes, Chelsea had them all over the pitch. Cech, for his reaction saves throughout as a well as his penalty heroics, is the first that comes to mind. The big Czech Republic international had done his homework and then some; the goalkeeper went the right way for all six of the penalties he was faced with, keeping three of them out. Then there’s Drogba, who, in the aftermath, announced his retirement from Chelsea. The Ivorian has given the West London club eight years of his life, and the rollercoaster ride has had highs, lows, and never been anything less than exhilarating throughout. That it should be him to score the equaliser on Saturday as well as the winning penalty kick (whilst in between casually conceding a penalty purely so that the haters could have some false hope that Chelsea would lose) epitomizes everything good that he has done for this club, and for that, every Chelsea fan will forever be in his debt.

Then there was Ashley Cole, who once again cemented his position as the best left-back in the world. Facing a plethora of Bayern attacks, the defender wowed fans with a stream of blocks and goal line clearances. It is worth re-iterating that, at 3-1 down in Napoli when the tie was seemingly out of our hands, Cole made one of his quintessential goalliine clearances to prevent the score from being 4-1, a deficit that we surely would not have recovered from. The man is a hero. In the absence of John Terry, David Luiz and Gary Cahill were thrown into the deep end, a feat no less daunting when you consider that both of them had been out of a spell with injury. But both were terrific; Luiz has been criticized over the course of the season for lacking defensive discipline but he was nothing but totally focused on Saturday, and Gary Cahill, who must be pinching himself at his reversal of fortune from going battling relegation with Bolton to playing in a CL winning side, threw his body on the line in a fearless way that would make John Terry proud.

And of course plaudits have to go to Roberto di Matteo, who picked Chelsea up from pandamonium when AVB was initially sacked and instilled our team with confidence and belief. No one was ever saying that Lampard had to play every game, but to be sat ignored on every big game merits an explanation at the very least. When RDM didn't play the big names, he still managed to keep them sweet by explaining his reasoning to them, rather than acting like he was above it. The fact that he as status as a Chelsea legend as a player naturally boosts his cause, but this wasn't something RDM rode on; he has shone tactical shrewdness beyond his years (the double marking of Cole and Ramires on Alves in the first leg against Barcelona comes to mind, as well as the super-defensive 6-3-0 formation he employed in the second leg when Terry got sent off that saw us through to the final). Abramovich would be a fool not to reward the one man who has given him what he wants - the big eared trophy - a contract.

And lastly, but by no means least, there was the one, the only, Frank Lampard. Chelsea’s captain for the night played in a more conservative role of holding midfielder, which has been the norm under di Matteo. Such is the manager’s guile that he immediately recognised that whilst Lampard’s aging legs may no longer accommodate the surging box-to-box midfielder role the Englishman is so accustomed to, that by no means there is no place left for him at Chelsea. And so Lampard took on this role and understood it impeccably. On Saturday he gave a performance of huge footballing intelligence and also exhibited bravery to take the initiative to be the third penalty taker (rather than fifth) when Mata missed his. He is a footballer of tremendous fearlessness and pluck, and has devoted no little part of his life in pursuit of this, the Holy Grail of football.

And so it happened, that Chelsea Football Club, incepted in 1905, won the Champions League on the 19th of the 05th. It was a performance of guts, spirit and determination. Chelsea proved to be trolls of the Universe by capping off a season when they have frequently been underwhelming by winning the FA Cup and the one they really wanted, the Champions League. Chelsea found their Holy Grail, forever wrote themselves into European football folklore and saw their happy ending. Abramovich’s billions of Roubles went some considerable way to attaining this goal, but the joy, the sheer, unadulterated joy of getting our hands on the thing that we wanted more than anything else, well. The ensuing euphoria and memories that will forever live on in our hearts are something that even a Russian Oligarch can’t buy

Oh boys, this is not our choice.

Germany 4 - Argentina 0



As a bitter Englander, I wanted both teams to lose (lol, typical), but there's no doubt that Germany totally deserved their win. Wow.

Football Crazy.

Out of the eight matches that have gone on so far this tournament, I have, lamentably, only watched five. The first I missed was due to work, but the two others - South Korea v Greece and Argentina v Nigeria, were entirely due to my own folly; of choosing to swan around London on a football Saturday, and then watch SATC2. Tut tut. By all intents and purposes, I was actually abiding by this film poster: -

Anyway, of the five matches I did see, brief thoughts:

Group A

Uruguay 0 France 0

Uruguay (4-4-2): Muslera; Victorino, Lugano, Godin, A Pereira; M Pereira, Perez  (Eguren 87), Arevalo,

Gonzalez (Lodeiro 63); Forlan, Suarez (Abreu 74)

Booked: Victorino, Lodeiro, Lugano.

Sent off: Lodeiro.

France (4-3-3): Lloris; Sagna, Gallas, Abidal, Evra; Gourcuff (Malouda 75), Toulanan, Diaby; Govou (Gignac 83), Anelka (Henry 71) Ribery.

Booked: Evra, Ribery, Toulalan.

Referee: Yuichi Nishimura (Jpn)

Fighting Talk Going into this game, France had lost in a friendly game to China. That's right, China. As for their qualification at Republic of Ireland's expense, the handiwork of Thierry Henry has now been well-documented, many times over. Uruguay had won none of their previous 12 games in the World Cup with European sides. The statistics regarding both teams hinted at a cagey affair with few goals.

How it went down There were indeed few goals, if few means "none", and even less flair on show. After a decent first few minutes, the rest of the first half fizzled out into nothingness as neither team found cohesion in attack. Raymond Domenech controversially benched winger Florent Malouda after an alleged bust-up in training, and the wizardry of the Chelsea man is much missed. There were two or three good half-chances in the first 45 minutes but not much else and though the game comes a little more into life when Henry stepped onto the pitch, neither team were able to find the net. Diego Forlan, breaker of Liverpool and Fulham hearts in the Europa Cup, looked particularly forlorn with his non-appearance. Uruguay will probably be more relieved of the two to escape with a point as they finished the match with ten men (Nicolas Lodeiro was sent off for two yellow cards), but the lack of creativity on display from two much-celebrated footballing countries was quite disappointing.

The good Despite the bee-like sound of the vuvulezas all over the pitch, there are still cheers aplenty to be heard; good to see the fans rooting for their countries.

The bad Nicolas Anelka strutted around the pitch looking even more po-faced than usual, very much in the vein of the apathetic Anelka I witnessed when he first joined Chelsea. You've played at countless clubs, you should know by now that rolling your eyes doesn't produce goals, mate.

The ugly After the match, Patrice Evra lambasted the vuvulezas and then the World Cup ball for France's below-par performance. Sigmund Freud might call such behaviour "displacement".

What this means It's all square in Group A, as South Africa, Mexico, Uruguay and France all draw. The World Cup host country will probably be most grateful with their point, but as it stands, there's everything to play for.

And the rest  Chris Toy, of Studs Up fame, said on twitter at half-time, "This game is tight, just how Ribéry likes it." I felt grubby for doing so, but oh, how I laughed.

Group C

England 1 USA 1

England (4-4-2): Green; Johnson, King

(Carragher 46min), Terry, A Cole; Lennon, Lampard, Gerrard, Milner (Wright-Phillips 30); Rooney, Heskey (Crouch 79).

Booked: Milner, Carragher, Gerrard.

USA (4-4-2) : Howard; Cherundsolo, DeMerit, Onyewu, Bocanegra; Donovan, Bradley, Clark, Dempsey; Altidore (Holden 86), Findley (Buddle 77). Booked: Cherundolo, DeMerit, Findley

Referee: C Simon (Brazil)

Fighting Talk Dubbed as an American-Anglo clash of international (well, duh) proportions, England fans took to baiting American ones by patronising their lack of knowledge about football, whilst they promised to get at us in the simplest way; by baiting Wayne Rooney. More than two years on from installing Fabio Capello as England manager and having missed out on Euro 2008, this was England's first tournament match since the disastruous 2006 World Cup, and expectations were through the roof.

How it went down England started well when Emile Heskey found newly-appointed England captain Steven Gerrard, who hit the net within four minutes. From there on for the next 20 minutes, England looked confident and capable in attack. America gave as good as they got, Jozy Altidore and Landon Donavon in particular having fun with the England defenders, and on 40 minutes, though England were leading, the game was pretty even. How nice of Rob Green, then, to do his bit for the Americans. With Clint Dempsey's speculative shot heading towards him, he caught the ball, then proceeded to drop it as it bounced behind him and into the net. All that was missing from that scene of vintage England goalkeeping was some clown music going "wah wah wah". Green pulled off a terrific save in the second half that prevented the Americans from going 2-1 up, but let's be honest, all that will be remembered of him from now on no matter what he does is his blunderous "Hand of Clod" moment.

The good Despite all my reservations about starting both Lampard and Gerrard in midfield, for once, both players were a credit to themselves.

The bad It's pointless to dwell on it, but Rob Green's mistake really does need to be seen to be believed.

The ugly Wayne Rooney running with the ball. Wayne Rooney remonstrating with the referee. Wayne Rooney full stop.

What this means USA will be far happier with this result than England will, but a draw is not the end of the world by any means. England's inability to produce a second goal, however, is. For all the plaudits laid upon him, Rooney had a terrible game and another performance like this and I would seriously question his starting place. We won't win games through reputation. Just sayin'.

And the rest Despite their National Team holding their own against the Three Lions, the American media still haven't understood the concept of a draw. Oh dear.

Algeria 0 Slovenia 1

Algeria (4-5-1): Faouzi Chaouchi, Madjid Bougherra, Nadir Belhadj, Anther Yahia, Rafik Halliche, Mehdi Lacen, Karim Matmour (Rafik Saifi, 80), Karim Ziani, Hassan Yebda, Foued Kadir (Adlene Guedioura, 82), Rafik Zoheir Djebbour (Abdelkader Ghezzal, 58)

Booked: Ghezzal, Yebda

Sent off: Ghezzal

Slovenia (4-4-2): Samir Handanovic, Miso Brecko, Marko Suler, Bostjan Cesar, Bojan Jokic, Robert Koren, Valter Birsa (Nejc Pecnik, 84), Andraz Kirm, Aleksander Radosavljevic (Andrej Komac, 87), Milivoje Novakovic, Zlatko Dedic (Zlatan Ljubijankic, 53)

Booked: Radosavljevic, Komac

Referee: Carlos Batres (Guatemala)

Fighting Talk With England and USA drawing the night before, there was now more of a chance that the winner of this match - should there be one - could grasp the second place spot.

How it went down For 73 minutes, sod all occurs, except both sides producing what would be a perfect antidote to insomnia. In the 74th minute, the Algeria substitute Ghezzal, already on a yellow for a pointless shirt pull, commits his second stupid foul of the day with a handball, and is given his marching orders.  Not long after, Slovenia capitalise with a goal by Robert Koren, though the shot itself was tame, it was more due to the failings of their goalkeeper Chaouchi, who let it bounce off his shoulder and into the net. Two matches from group C, and two hilarious bouts of goalkeeping.

The good The game ended, didn't it?

The bad The performances from both sides. Though Slovenia came out with the more attacking line-up, such was Algeria's compact midfield that they succeeded in shutting them down for most of it. As such, any creative flair was completely stifled, leading to one of the most boring matches I've watched for quite a while.

The ugly Whilst the quality of the football was low, but was even worse was the commentry supplied by the BBC, who kept arrogantly tempting hubris by asserting "based on this performance, England need not be troubled." It was them, rather than the vuvuleza sounds, that had be scrambling for the mute button.

What this means Slovenia must want the group stages to stay as it is; they sit pretty at the top of Group C, albeit with England ans USA yet to play.

And the rest Alan Hansen, BBC pundit, was particularly mardy during the commentary of this match. He turns 55 today. Unhappy Birthday to him.

Group D

Serbia 0 Ghana 1

Fighting Talk The first game of six from Group D, one of the two Groups of Death (the other being Group G). In this group sit Serbia, Ghana, Australia and Germany, all four of which stand a fighting chance of making it into the knockout stages.

How it went down Another tightly contested match with the third red card of the tournament shown, which proceeded to turn the events of the game. Aleksandar Lukovic, receiving a second yellow for hauling down Asamoah Gyan, is given his marching orders around the 70th minute, and moments later Zdravco Kuzmanovic's handball in the penalty box leading to the penalty awarded to Ghana, which (the pre-mentioned) Gyan duly converted. The rest of the match was a mixture of misplaced long balls from Serbia and resiliant Ghanian defending, making Ghana worthy of their win.

The good The Ghana team performance, though lacking in much creative flair, was solid and cohesive, every one on their team had a strong game, particularly captain John Pantsil, Tagoe and Gyan, the latter of whom kept the Serbian defence on their toes throughout.

The bad Kuzmanovic, one of the Serbian substitutes, had barely been on the pitch when he conceded the first penalty of the tournament, and a totally needless one at that. That'll stick with him, for sure.

The ugly Lukovic's first half and second half performances were the very epitome of Jekyll and Hyde. In the first half, he looked composed and in control, but his needless second yellow in the second half meant he was essentially the architect of Serbia's downfall.

What this means At present, Ghana are top of Group D, Serbia bottom.

And the rest Nine of the Serbia starting XI had names ending in -ic.

Germany 4 Australia 0

Germany Manuel Neuer, Arne Friedrich, Holger Badstuber, Philipp Lahm, Per Mertesacker, Sami Khedira, Bastian Schweinsteiger, Mesut Ozil (Mario Gomez, 74), Lukas Podolski (Marko Marin, 81), Miroslav Klose (Jeronimo Baretto Cacau, 68), Thomas Muller

Booked: Ozil, Cacau

Australia Mark Schwarzer, Lucas Neill, Craig Moore, Tim Cahill, Jason Culina, Brett Emerton (Mile Jedinak, 74), Luke Wilkshire, Scott Chipperfield, Vince Grella (Brett Holman, 46), Carl Valeri, Richard Garcia (Nikita Rukavytsya, 64)

Booked: Moore, Neill, Valeri

Sent off: Cahill

Referee: Marco Rodríguez (Mexico)

Fighting Talk If the previous match between Ghana and Serbia (the former 17 FIFA places below the other) was any indicator, then an upset, with Australia placed 13 places below Germany could well be on the cards. In reality, this was said more in hope than expectation.

How it went down Car analogies were being thrown around our living room and me, having had 20 driving lessons once and gotten nowhere and having no car expertise at all, can only paraphrase what was said by my paterfamilia: that Germany performed like a well oiled, state of the art Mercedes-Benz S-type, and Australia were the 60-year-old Chrysler in need of an engine repair. Harsh, but true; Australia's defence were non-existent on some occasions and by the time Germany hit four, I was torn between awe for one team and pity for the other. Tim Cahill's tackle wasn't great but it certainly didn't merit a straight red and unless FIFA retract it, it means Australia's playmaker misses the next two matches. On the balance of this performance, it could well be Australia's last two in this tournament.

The good Make no mistake, Germany were very, very good. Philipp Lahm, a footballer shorter than most of my gal pals, wore the captains armband, and suitably quelled most of Australia's attack. He was also a persistent threat going forward, and swung in the cross that lead to Germany's second goal. Thomas Muller and Mesut Ozil were also integral components in what was a very well put-together machine. Ruthless and efficient will be two adjectives that will be churned out many a time when talking about Germany, but on their performance today, it's justified.

The bad It gives me no pleasure to say it, but Australia disappointed. Hardly anyone on their team shone, but Craig Moore and Vince Grella in particular had shockers. And the prospect of no more Timmy Cahill makes me very sad indeed.

The ugly The referee. Cahill's sending off was just one of the many bizarre calls he had. Australia lost the match on their own shortcomings, but the referee most certainly did not help things. Referees had been doing ok so far this tournament, getting most of the big decisions right (for example, refusing to award France penalties, and rightfully sending players off on 50/50 calls), but Marco Rodriguez let the side down.

What this means Germany have played one, won one, with a handsome goal difference of +4. Despite the one-sidedness, it proved a scintillating game and the only one so far (aside from the England, but I have a vested interest in that game, naturally) that genuinely thrilled me.

And the rest Both captains missing from teams at the top of Group D have first names Michael and play for Chelsea. (lol, I ran out of exciting facts so you'll have to make do with that one)

That's that from that. I work during the week, so I'll miss all the 12:30 and 3:00 kick-offs, though I'll watch the 7:30 ones. This does mean I missing the likes of Denmark vs The Netherlands and Ivory Coast vs Portugal. This makes me sad. But ahhh, that's what highlights are for!

10 Players I'm Really Looking Forward to Watching in the 2010 World Cup.

Under a week until the World Cup, and I can literally not take the excitement. In the pre-World Cup build-up we've already had heartbreak and disappointment, what with some key players getting injured in the friendlies and warm ups, whilst others have failed to been selected by their country's managers. Of the players that are going, here are the 10 that I'm most excited about seeing in action.

10. Salomon Kalou (Ivory Coast, Chelsea)

Now that Drogba's out of the World Cup (weep), Salomon Kalou could well find himself acting as the key striker for the Ivory Coast. This will be a slight change from his role at Chelsea, where, although he has been deployed as a forward, he has had more experience playing on the wing. Furthermore, whilst the Ivory Coast does still feature some premiership names (Arsenal's Eboue, and Man City's Kolo Toure, their captain in the abscence of Drogba), Kalou is one of the IC's more prominent players, unlike at Chelsea, and it will be interesting to see how he copes with this higher level of responsibility. Many Chelsea fans frequently find themselves banging their heads against the wall when watching Kalou; for all his pace and troubling defenders, some of his crosses leave a lot to be desired, and his finishing fluctuant. But I bloody love him. As you'll discover (to a point ad nauseum), I love footballers who try, and Kalou does just that. Plus I find it totally adorable and refreshing how in this day and age, when many players utter a couple of expletetives when they miss the goal, Kalou just grins sheepishly, and carrys on. It's that kind of cute, angel-faced school prefect behaviour that makes me just want to mother him.

09. Tim Cahill (Australia, Everton)

Arguably one of the best premier league players not playing for a top four side, Tim Cahill has been on the English football scene for 12 years now, six of those with Millwall and six with Everton. On more than one occasion he has been the saviour for Australia in internationals, as he has done with Everton - witness the way he skipped merrily around Man City's defenders in the match this season as if they simply weren't there.  The pacey, energetic way at which he bounds around the pitch is, in itself, not dissimilar to that of a kangaroos. It will be exciting to see how he runs circles around Germany, Ghana and Serbia in the so-called "group of death" (vol1). There's a vol 2 later. :p

08. Park Ji-Sung (South Korea, Manchester United)

I find Park Ji-Sung massively underrated. Whilst I know his erratic performances in front of goal have led to many Manchester United fans to want to punch him, I personally love him for his work ethic and energy. I'm a huge softie for football players who, although not the best, always give 110%, and nobody exemplifies that better than Park. As captain of South Korea, he is the one in the squad with the most experience of football at its highest level (the only other premiership player in the squad is Bolton's Lee Chung-Yong), and the big-game mentality that he has acquired from representing Manchester United in Europe shall surely come in handy when South Korea find themselves face to face with Argentina in the group stages. Also, he's Asian, as am I, so automatic brownie points for that.

07. Ashley Cole (England, Chelsea)

You've got to hand it to Ashley Cole. Quite possibly the most reviled man in England, every football ground he visits is met with animosity at his every touch of the ball, and banter in the form of his ex-wife's song lyrics (Stoke fans sang "We've got to file file file file file for divorce" to him as Chelsea rogered Stoke 7-0 at Stamford Bridge). But with his philandering and being detested, Ashley Cole has also acquired a mighty thick skin. In a season where he started so promisingly, Ashley Cole picked up an ankle injury at Everton in February, around the time when Chelsea needed him the most. He returned towards the end of the season and his four great performances in the remaining matches helped win the league and the FA Cup - but there was a faint trace of regret interwoven with my pride when Chelsea paraded those two trophies around West London. What if, I wondered, Ashley Cole had been fit for those two integral games against Inter in the CL? Could, perhaps, it have been the treble we'd been sporting - and finally have the CL trophy to Chelseabung's name. Anyway, thinking over scenarios that never happened is just a waste of time. Ashley Cole hadn't been fit, and we didn't beat Inter. But, for all his questionble morals "as a person", Ashley Cole is a dynamite of a left-back; both at attacking and defending. Whilst England's right-back, Glen Johnson, has a tendency to dose off - something Aaron Lennon must atone for in midfield if it happens, Ashley Cole barely has that problem. Alert, agile (even at 29) and consistently a threat, it will be terrific fun to see him dancing with the ball with Chelsea team-mate Joe Cole down the left. England don't need a parachute, if we've got him.

06. Wesley Sneijder (Netherlands, Inter Milan)

Sold to Inter from Real for around 15million euros with the money Inter got for their "Ibrahimovic sale", Sneijder made a splash straight away, adapting to Italian football brilliantly and greatly enjoying the role Jose Mourinho gave him as a trequartista behind Eto'o and Milito. It is this attacking trio, along with goals from all over the pitch and Jose Mourinho's machiavellian know-how that guided Inter Milan to the treble, and after all that, one could hardly blame Sneijder for feeling a little... fatigued. But no, the 25-year-old, balding, thrice-divorced Dutchie is having none of that. Having gotten his hands on three major trophies already, he's got his eye on a fourth.

05. Kaká (Brazil, Real Madrid)

It would not be unfair to say that on the whole, Ricky Kaká has had a bit of an underwhelming season for Real Madrid. A lot of this is not the poor boy's fault; unlike at Brazil and AC Milan, where the team was built around him, Kaká found himself having to adapt to a different style of play in Spain, and he has struggled with form-dipping injury throughout the season. Plus, with the hefty price tag burdered on him, anyone would feel a bit nervous. Nonetheless, he will not feel content with how the past season has gone - especially when compared to Cristiano Ronaldo, Real Madrid's other multi-million Euro signing - and will take it upon himself to find redemption in South Africa. Interestingly enough, Kaká and Ronaldo will find themselves face to face in the Group Stages, as Portugal, Brazil, Ivory Coast and North Korea form Group G, the "Group of Death" (vol2). If things don't go as planned, Kaká may find himself talking to god on more than one occasion...

04. Philipp Lahm (Germany, Bayern München)

When Chelsea's Michael Ballack was ruled out of the World Cup with an ankle injury, it added to Germany's already growing injury list of first-team players, what with their first choice goalie Rene Adler nursing a rib injury. Speculation also arose as to who would wear the captain's armband. The smart money was on Stuttgart's Sami Khedira, though Klose, Bastian Schweinsteiger and Lukas Podolski also in for a shout. But in the end, Germany manager Joachim Löw gave the position to pint-sized Philipp Lahm, one of the most baby faced players in the World Cup. A right-footed left-back, he was doing the "playing inside out" thing long before Ashley Young, Craig Bellamy and Damien Duff cottoned onto it, and whilst his minute height occasionally leads to gaps in his defensive game, he usually takes it upon himself to compensate - it was Lahm who scored the equaliser for Germany in their 3-1 friendly victory over Bosnia when he was at fault for the one goal Bosnia conceded. A key stalwart for Germany in their past few tournaments, it will be interesting to see how he fares in South Africa, carrying the weight of representing his country, defending and now captaining on his 5'7" shoulders.

03. Xavi (Spain, Barcelona)

In May, reports broke out that Cesc Fàbregas, the 23-year-old captain of Arsenal, wanted to re-join Barcelona, the club he started at. Whilst his desire to do so is partially justified; as a Spaniard, who can fault him for wanting to go back to his homeland, and season upon season of disappointment with Arsenal can only push him so far, the best argument for Cesc not going to Barca and staying exactly where he is is in the form of Xavi Hernandez, Spain team-mate. They play in similar roles for their teams and with Xavi still at the peak of his powers, I feel that were Fàbregas to be Cataluña-bound, he would be forever playing second fiddle to the man seven years his senior. At 30, Xavi is at the age when footballers are supposed to be declining in physical fitness, but the past season he has had with Barcelona completely counters that. Arguably the best playmaker in the world, his passing is second to none, his link-up play with Barca and Spain team-mate Andrés Iniesta is borderline telepathic, and, for all the plaudits Lionel Messi has won for his many match-winning goals, there is a monster in midfield behind him, quietly doing the integral cogwork.

02. Frank Lampard (England, Chelsea)

Lampard has just had a sensational season with Chelseabung, wherein he has topped his own scoring record with 21 league goals and more assists than any other player. That his reputation as a World class footballer is in refute is just a joke. But anyway. For those of us with eyes and can see how immense Mr. Lampard is, the desire to see him play for England is also intermingled with trepidation for how Capello will handle the Lampard/Gerrard conundrum, something he still hasn't sorted. I have my own ideas but I'm no football manager, so I shall hold my own counsel over the matter (for once). But I do hope Lampard isn't the casualty, because he is an absolute diamond of a footballer. Two years ago, his mother passed away, and six days on from the tragedy he chose to go back to his job as a 'player and play in the crucial CL tie between Chelsea and Liverpool at Stamford Bridge. With the game tied at 1-1, 2-2 on aggregate, a penalty was awarded to Chelsea. Many people could barely watch as Lampard prised the ball away from team-mate Ballack to take the spot-kick. His heart and head must have been all over the place and had he missed, it would have hurt a lot more than any other penalty. But the way he scored the penalty - essentially securing a victory for Chelsea, was transcendent in that, in its own way, also represented a victory for life over death. Tears streaming down his face as he looked upwards to the sky, Lampard won, the haters lost and for me, he is King.

01. Peter Crouch (England, Tottenham Hotspur)

No surprise, really. Peter Crouch turned my head in the 2006 World Cup and worringly, 4 years on, the obsession still hasn't desisted. Between those four years, he has played for three different teams, had good spells and bad but never failed to entertain me. Whilst not the most fashionable of footballers, Crouchie nonetheless epitomizes everything I love about the beautiful game: determination, team spirit and a simple thirst to play football. Some may argue that he's a flat-track bully at international level, but this argument is circular; Crouchie is hardly ever selected to play against the more "difficult" nations and when he does, it is for 4 minutes as a substitute- hardly a reasonable length of time to score in. When given the chance to shine, oh, how he soars; back in 2007 he scored a hattrick against Arsenal (the only other player to achieve such a feat in recent years is Leo Messi), and what a hattrick it was, scored with his left foot, right foot and head. Capello would do well to start Crouch alongside Rooney; Crouchie has a knack of getting himself in the right place at exactly the right time (Manchester City conceding the goal from him that put Spurs in the CL at their expense will attest to that) and his international goal-scoring rate (21 in 38 games) speaks for itself. As an England fan, I'm always wary of over-optimism, but I can't help thinking that with Crouchie as our #9, there could just be a few treats in store for England this Summer.

And players who will be sorely missed...

From top left then clockwise: Didier Drogba, Ivory Coast and Petr Cech, Czech Republic (both Chelsea, Drogba due to injury and Cech due to failing to qualify), Michael Ballack, Germany and Michael Essien, Ghana (both Chelsea, both got injured), Adam Johnson, England (Man City, was selected for the privisional 30-man squad but failed to make it into the 23), Luka Modric and Niko Kranjcar, both Croatia (Tottenham, Croatia failed to qualify) and Shay Given and Richard Dunne, both R.O.I (Man City, Aston Villa, Ireland missed quliaification by an arm)

Beautiful World Cup Art.

Wieden + Kennedy New York commisioned Capetown artists Am I Collective to create 32 murals, each one inspired by one of the 32 countries participating in the World Cup. Some of them are based on national themes, others inspired by film posters. There are my favourites:























 source