EuroBeery 2012: Semi Final 1, Czech Republic v Italy
Semi Final 1, Czech Republic v Italy
One day, I'm going to be leafing through the travel offers in the weekend papers and I'm going to find my perfect holiday advert:
THIS WEEKEND ONLY!
CHEAP! Have your stag do in Tallin! No need to pretend you're there for the culture! As much beer and chips as your pasty-white bellies can cope with! And more besides!
ROMANTIC! Ask the love of your life to marry you in Paris! Ignore the dogshit and the rabid taxi driver whilst you piss away the best part of a month's salary on a middling hotel and lukewarm cuisine!
DESERTED! Come to Prague or Rome this weekend, because all the well-stoked stags and dewy-eyed lovers have gone somewhere else! Enjoy the bars and beers without watching Neville from Solihull puke into a condom or Sarah from Surbiton choke on the ring buried in her chocolate mousse!
I've missed out on a Rome trip and never got around to seeing the finer parts of Pilsen or Prague. I'm going to have to do something about that. Meantime; it's semi-final time. How can I choose between these two?
It's easy.
Thinking about Czech beer makes me thing of pils. Czech pils makes me think of Matuška and several giddy afternoons in the Sheffield Tap. Give me a keg of it, I'd cuddle it; give me a swimming pool full of it, I'd drown peacefully with a shit-eating grin on my face.
But then thinking about pils, thinking about Italy... only leads to thinking about drinking Tipopils.
If it tastes handsome on an overcast Derbyshire evening, I dare not dream how it could taste somewhere like Ma Che Siete Venuti a Fà as Andrea Pirlo rounds a beached keeper to give the Gli Azzurri another victory.
For a pils that outshines a nation of pils, Italy are through to the final.
Result: Czech Republic 0 Italy 1
One day, I'm going to be leafing through the travel offers in the weekend papers and I'm going to find my perfect holiday advert:
THIS WEEKEND ONLY!
CHEAP! Have your stag do in Tallin! No need to pretend you're there for the culture! As much beer and chips as your pasty-white bellies can cope with! And more besides!
ROMANTIC! Ask the love of your life to marry you in Paris! Ignore the dogshit and the rabid taxi driver whilst you piss away the best part of a month's salary on a middling hotel and lukewarm cuisine!
DESERTED! Come to Prague or Rome this weekend, because all the well-stoked stags and dewy-eyed lovers have gone somewhere else! Enjoy the bars and beers without watching Neville from Solihull puke into a condom or Sarah from Surbiton choke on the ring buried in her chocolate mousse!
I've missed out on a Rome trip and never got around to seeing the finer parts of Pilsen or Prague. I'm going to have to do something about that. Meantime; it's semi-final time. How can I choose between these two?
It's easy.
Thinking about Czech beer makes me thing of pils. Czech pils makes me think of Matuška and several giddy afternoons in the Sheffield Tap. Give me a keg of it, I'd cuddle it; give me a swimming pool full of it, I'd drown peacefully with a shit-eating grin on my face.
But then thinking about pils, thinking about Italy... only leads to thinking about drinking Tipopils.
If it tastes handsome on an overcast Derbyshire evening, I dare not dream how it could taste somewhere like Ma Che Siete Venuti a Fà as Andrea Pirlo rounds a beached keeper to give the Gli Azzurri another victory.
For a pils that outshines a nation of pils, Italy are through to the final.
Result: Czech Republic 0 Italy 1
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euro 2012
When I went to Prague, maybe four or five years ago, it had a bit of a reputation due to British stag parties: we were advised to avoid weekends as a result.
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