Go, England...

...And don't come back.

My father and I watched our fatherland get tossed from the World Cup by Portugal. A 0-0 tie after 120 minutes, it went to sudden death and the Portugeese won three kicks to two. The shame of it was that old Albion didn't play particularly badly --- in fact, their loss was due in no small part by the (Argentinean!) ref's questionable call in throwing out one of their top players. Anyway, that's it for those chaps.

***

Speaking of British things, I saw Eddie Izzard's Dress To Kill for the first time. I've heard mucho gushing about its hilarity all over the internets, of course. In this instance, the hype does not overstate the point; it's a truly witty bit of comedy. There are plenty of classic bits --- "Do you have a flag?," "Death or cake?," the ineffectually British Darth Vader, etc. --- but the one scene that had me crying with laughter was when Izzard, through a series of subtle gestures (a nod, a wiggle of the eyebrows), kept denying, affirming, re-denying, and re-affirming the ostensible death of pop singer Englebert Humperdink. Now that's sheer talent.