VIDEO: MARCEL DESAILLY'S REACTION TO GYAN'S PENALTY MISS

['HOWW? HOWWWW?' Oh, weren't we all wondering the same thing?]

We're simply not talking about France. No, seriously. We're not. At least not for a little while. Thuram coming out and suggesting that Evra be banned from playing for France ever again (get real, Tutu) was just about the last straw. However, what we can do is share a little giggle over Marcel Desailly's -- he of Ghanaian origin -- reaction to The Penalty Kick That Didn't Go In and Will Now Live Forever in the History of African Football (yes, that's its official name).

via 101 GG

WHEREIN MY ATTEMPT TO AVOID WITNESSING THE FINAL BIT OF FRANCE RIDUCULOSITY ENDS IN COMPLETE AND ABJECT FAILURE

[Look at that little half-grin he's got on.

That, my friends, is a face begging to be punched.]

Due to life incessantly getting in the way of dedicating my entire existence to the World Cup (funny how that happens), I've not been able to watch the whole France/South Africa match yet. I wasn't so lucky, however, to fully escape the final act of the Shakespearean play France is putting on over in South Africa. As the highlights were being inflicted on a half-empty bar patio midway through my morning, I happened to be passing by. Wrong place, wrong time. The mental effort that was gathered to coax myself into avoiding having my day spoiled by sitting down to watch France's formality of a final group match today was expansive. I'd resolved to wait to watch the match when I got home tonight where I could sulk, groan and shout at my television undisturbed. Sometimes you just need those ninety minutes to yourself; to exorcise your angry-and-disappointed-supporter demons away from the view of, er, normal people.

But here's the main thing to understand about actively trying not to watch your side play at any point during the world cup: it's viscerally impossible. The patio's television screens seemed to pop up out of no where and they flickered brightly with the impending doom of it all. They were irresistible. While the commentators were setting up the first clip of the highlight reel, the loudest thought on loop over and over in my head was 'WALK AWAY! WALK AWAY NOW!' It was like a car accident and I was that annoying jerk that cranes her head out the window to slow down and scope out the full extent of the crash -- truly awful.

Now, if you'll excuse me I'm off for another evening of piecing together any semblance of motivation to truly give a sh*t about the rest of this tournament**. Yes, and to actually watch the rest of the South Africa game.

**Oh, I get to be a bit dramatic today okay? Relax Spain, I'll still be around to root on your eventual collapse. I'm devoted to the cause.

FRANCE: WHAT THE... I DON'T EVEN...

[Evra spotted here being the world's sh**est

captain/getting a bit scrappy with the trainer.]

Lesson learned: In regards to France, never ever delude yourself into thinking that it can't get any worse. It can. They're boycotting practices (they refused to train on Sunday, but have now resumed today apparently), Evra missed a press conference today and sponsors don't even what their logos on France's training kit anymore. There's actually talk that the captaincy might have been yanked from Patrice Evra. All that's missing from this teen soap opera is Chuck Bass. I'm half-expecting him to make an appearance at this point: scotch in one hand, neck scarf at the ready.

I AM UP IN THIS BLOG FOR NO APPARENT REASON: DANISH DISTRACTION, NICKLAS BENDTNER

[For now though, I'll settle for some Bendtner prettiness. Small consolation. Also, well done to Nick for managing to find the target against Cameroon. You were like a floating idiot beanpole at Arsenal this season. Glad you could get it together for someone, girl.]

Perusing a vast array of articles telling me how ridiculous Anelka is and why I should feel sorry for Gourcuff, a man who is both very rich and very hot, is not a good way to end an evening. It's painful and insomnia inducing. In fact, as a result, I'm contemplating growing some emo bangs to fully express my pain... and inflict it on others. Seriously though, have you met anyone with emo bangs? It's slightly disconcerting to say the least. There was a barrista at a Starbucks I used to frequent who had these extremely long side swept ones with blonde bits in it. I used to literally hold my breath whenever he made my drinks because I was convinced there was going to be some accidental bang-dunking action occur. Skinny-Vanilla-Latte-a-la greasy-hair, if you will. He caught me peering over the little counter thing with this intensely petrified look on my face once. The smug bastard looked sort of pleased with himself. I bet goths and emo kids are France supporters.

[They all look just about ready for their emo-bangs too.

Les Bleus = Les Sulk. Let's not pin it all on Anelka.]

WHEREIN IN A USELESS ATTEMPT TO REMIND MYSELF WHY I EVEN LIKE FRANCE, I AM REDUCED TO A GIRLY, NOSTALGIC MESS

[Ah, 1998. You've got to know it's gotten particularly bad when you find yourself

awake at 2am watching an endless stream of 98 World Cup clips. You know it's

gotten WORSE when you catch yourself looking fondly at Petit's ponytail, thinking

irrationally nostalgic tripe like 'they don't make pony-tailed footballers like that anymore...*sigh*']

France play their second group match this afternoon against Mexico and I'm dreading it. It feels like I've got an appointment with the dentist or something: I know I've got to go, and I will, but I don't particularly want to. Please just let them score a goal, or at the very least manage not rip each other to shreds, even as the likelihood of the latter happening is becoming more and more of a real possibility with each sh**y infighting rumour that pops up. 'I weel not pass to eem!'. Behave like grown men, please.

Figure that I, and those who find themselves in a similar predicament today, might need some reminding why we even like this side.

[Henry: It's hard isn't it, baby? I know everyone hates you right now -- with good reason, unfortunately. Handball mentions made by commentators can practically be reduced to a drinking game at this point... one that would get drinkers pretty damned sloshed, mind.]

[Zidane: A little angry with you. You made some unhelpful and truly cuntalicious comments about France's opening match. Yes, I know they were true but still, why now and why on national television? And you didn't even come to watch them play... you went to watch Algeria instead. I could headbutt you right now given the chance.]

[Vieira: Nothing but love. Come back.]

[Barthez: Oh, you baldy nutball. You did spoil us with your brand of

awesomely outlandish behaviour, didn't you?]

[Petit: The hair. The hair! For better or worse, the beginning of my

(not so)mini-obsession with footballers' hairstyles.]