Slaughter of the beast ...

This is called flushing. Normal. Not with the process of streaptease. Stripping at the bar by an attached and rocking… artist of the genre. We're talking about rubbing, rubbing clothes and underwear in Madam England, and scratches and bites especially on the dark, black spots of her bastard body.

This is the truth of 2-1 first achieved by the "Europeans of Uruguay", the Croats of 4 cm with England of 54 cm and then the Belgians of 11 cm. Most terrible? Croatia's reams came from two more qualifiers that put them on the penalty spot. Cap after another two extensions.

If, then, we are talking football first and not gambling, Croatia would have no luck with any other opponent. He went to the final because in the semifinals he found little England, this bubble of world football. This multi-photographed and much-talked-about England. In our case, which is which?

One. We do not confuse a group's brand with its true value. Which England? Please. Eats by Croatians 1-1 equalizer in goal scored by 5 and don't see it! He disappeared from the field. They pulled straight for the bar, for the beer. Awesome! Apocalyptic. And when the Croats did 1 - 1 on 68, then they came into play. With a monologue!

Two. The media and global communication mechanisms, media and parties, and international organizations, make you the citizen, the taxpayer, the voter. But not to get a carrot and as a gambler, yeah!

Which England. From where and to where England is a favorite, both with Croatia and Belgium. A goal from a foul in the 5th with Croatia and when it became 1-1 they did not know where they were. Out of place and time. And with problematic competitive dynamics. No surprise, eh, the exclusion of the eternal accomplice in the World Cup and the euro. In the "small final" Belgium and England was day and night.

Three. You don't bet on such a match. Where they are all likely to evolve in stature with the value and credibility of the two rivals. Seeing players can't get their feet up. They stoop down to get a breath. Corpses erupted from fucking fatigue. Warriors with swords and axes without being able to hold them in their hand.

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