Eurotrash?

So, Euro 2008 is upon us, and it is completely devoid of any home nation going, which means it should be a gloriously stressless affair for us Scots - no more tears (yes, I cried when Gazza scored against us at Euro 96, but I was only twelve, and, jings, the unjustice of it all!) and no more worries that England will go all the way before their inevitable elimination in the quarters either by penalties or a goalkeeping blunder.

Here's to hoping that it's more like Euro 2000, where only Norway were dull and the goals came faster than Wayne Rooney when the pies are ready, than like Euro 2004, where only England were entertaining and Greece won the dullest, most annoying sporting event since the world paint-drying championships were presented by James Blunt.

Therefore, let the goals and the excitement flow, and please, please, please let this be a tournament where 4-5-1 is a sequence of numbers treated with the same horror and overblown fear that 6-6-6 is given by inhabitants of the Western Isles.

So, ladies and gentlemen, pick your team (mine's Romania) and sit back and enjoy; if the football is rubbish, we can always have a laugh at Clive Tyldsley's desperate attempts to reference England at every opportunity.

L.