Sweepstake sorrow

We’re tantalisingly close to the start of the World Cup and the anxiety has set in. The reason for this anxious state is not concern that Rooney won’t control his temper or that Diego Maradona will stick to his promise to run naked through Buenos Aries if Argentina win the tournament - no, it’s all thanks to the office sweepstake.

Everyone is familiar with the concept of the sweepstake - you chuck a couple of quid into an envelope, and then pull a little piece of paper with the name of a country on it from another. You hope you’ll draw Spain and stand the best chance of keeping the contents of that first envelope for yourself, whilst crossing your fingers that you don’t pull out New Zealand, North Korea or any of the other teams with little or no chance of winning.

Equally, you’re afraid of picking teams for whom you reserve a hatred for, yet know they stand a decent chance of winning. I’m thinking Argentina, Germany and particularly after their play-off with Ireland, France. Nobody wants to get France. To have to cheer on a team who made the tournament by being masters of the dark arts of football would stick in anyone’s throat. Well I got France.

At the risk of sounding like some awful hybrid of Jeremy Clarkson and Richard Littlejohn, it’s exceptionally easy to dislike the French football team these days. With the peerless genius that is Zinedine Zidane sadly now retired, there a very few, if any likeable players in their squad. The sulky Nicolas Anelka remains, as does William “if you don’t let me leave I’ll score an own goal” Gallas and also friend to Paris’ red light district, Franck Ribery.

But thanks to two of the most blatant handballs you’ll ever see, one man has outdone them all and scooped the title of most hated footballer in the French camp. Step forward Thierry Henry - formerly the pride of Islington, currently the scourge of decent football fans across the world.

His inclusion in the French squad means France are unlikely to win the support of many neutrals in South Africa this year. But you get what you’re given in the sweepstake and I’m afraid that means I’ll be donning a beret and striped sweater whilst cheering on the French through gritted teeth.

Thanks to the generous redistribution policy of our sweepstake, I still stand a chance of taking home some funds without having the agonising task of cheering on the French to victory. Prizes are given for first, second and third, with smaller amounts dished out to the unfortunate soul whose team finishes with the worst record and also the team that takes FIFA’s Fair Play award.

As my team is known for posing, cheating, moaning, cheating and cheating, I very much doubt they will pick up a prize for fairness. Unfortunately, they also have a vast amount of talent in their ranks, so they’re just as unlikely to scoop the wooden spoon. So I’m left with hoping they scuff their way through to the semi finals before going out - preferably in humiliating style that may involve someone catching the ball on the half-way line, bouncing it all the way to the penalty area and then rolling it underarm into the net.

But until we get to the last four, I’ll be glued to the TV with my little scrap of paper in hand quietly chanting “allez les bleus”.