It ran something like this.
A load of ex-footballers and a journalist stood behind some bowls which had balls in them.
Each of the balls either contained the name of a qualifying country or a letter and number to indicate their place on a grid.
The countries were split into four groups of eight according to their rankings in world football.
None of the teams in the same group or pot could play each other.
None of the teams could be put in a group with a country from the same football confederation.
Are you still with me?
So on and on it went. Team A couldn't go in pot A or B because it already had a team from the same federation, so it went in pot c.
Initially England got drawn with the Islamic Republic of Iran (or just Iran to you and me) and the USA. Then the problem started. The next team picked out for England couldn't be placed in the group because of a conflict of confederationism. Neither could the next one pulled out for the same reason. So in the end we got one of three teams who still have to play off to get to the finals. These three include Ukraine who may or may not be able to get a team together to play Scotland. The winner of that match will play Wales for a place in the finals.
Now you would think that England were in the same confederation as Wales and Scotland. But no. Uruguay couldn't be in the same group as Brazil because they are in the same confederation but England can play either Scotland or Wales when effectively they are not only in the same confederation but also the same bloody country.
I told you it was nice and simple.
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I watched with interest last night a travel programme on the great cities of the world starring Joanna Lumley who is of course a national treasure. This episode was Berlin, my favourite city. Saint Joanna told us how wonderful and diverse the city is (and it certainly is). But then she went into areas that travellers would never find.
When I see a travel show I want to see the sights of the place, learn a little about its history etc. What I don't want to see is the presenters prancing around with a dance troupe or visiting somebody with a huge hat collection. This is something the casual traveller will never find and it isn't what Berlin is all about.
Bring back the BBC Travel Show or Wish You Were Here which did what it said on the tin - visited different holiday destinations and told you about them.
* * *
I am currently reading a book by music journalist Nick Kent about his life in the 1970s. It's an interesting read giving an insight on life with some of the greatest rock musicians in the history of music.
There's an awful lot of drugs around.
There's one passage I found particularly interesting involving a concert Kent attended by Bob Dylan. Now what image does that name conjure up with me? I've never seen him live and never really had the urge to. A friend of mine has seen him umpteen times. Basically I don't like his voice and prefer his songs when done by others. Nevertheless the picture that Dylan paints in my mind is of an old style folkie perched on a stool, playing and singing along to an acoustic guitar.
Kent paints a very different picture in his book, referring to one Dylan concert as being so loud that he had problems hearing for three days after.
And yes I have got the right Bob Dylan. He started as a folkie but then went electric much to the consternation of some of his fans - one of whom shouted "Judas," suggesting that Dylan had sold out.
I have suffered many loud bands in my time and hate it when the music is so loud you cannot hear any notes or any of the lyrics. I remember Scottish band Biffy Clyro at Norwich Arts Centre where it was so loud that every song sounded the same. But the one I really remember was at Norwich Waterfront and an American band by the name of The Hold Steady. I had heard a few tracks by them and read a bit about them which described their lyrics as literate with a number of characters running through many of their songs to make a kind of story.
They were so loud I couldn't catch a single word. The lead vocalist may just as well have been shouting nonsense into a microphone. I have to say I left before the end. There didn't seem to be any point in subjecting myself to more aural abuse. I don't remember a single song from that show and have never bothered to listen to the band again.
I fear my days of listening to loud bands are over, just as standing up for three hours in a tightly packed crowd are over on the grounds that it's just too uncomfortable.