Football is bad for my soul.

As you may well have realised, yesterday was the long-awaited England match. I went to watch it with my family at my grandparents house.

I should not be allowed to watch football. I turned into a monster. By the second half I was wishing all manner of death upon the American team, who may be perfectly agreeable and charming people in the flesh. But I doubt it, because they're American, and they scored. In fact, I was so angry at the point of the American handball that I suggested, rather loudly, that he had his arm amputated rather than getting a yellow card, as then it wouldn't get in the way again. I think I may have scared my family, especially my nan. Sorry nan.

This could possibly be seen as perfectly normal, if I was accustomed to watching football. I am not. I never watch it, I didn't even realise it was the World Cup until about three days ago, when I was told by an exasperated friend. I'm not a football person. It's not in my blood, at least not on my fathers side. He hates it, and I can see why. I don't like being tense, it makes me... well, tense. I have resolved to stay away from any further matches. It's not even a good game! Now badminton, that's a sport. *ducks to avoid sharp objects thrown by football fans*

So, for this reason, I have come to the conclusion that football is bad for my soul, and so I shouldn't be allowed to watch it. EVER.