Cornwall. 17th June 2014. 17.00pm – Kick off.

Hazel, 94, is sat alone on the sofa, as she has been all day.

She hears the front door open and close. She sits bolt upright as Barbara, 96, enters the living room, a tiny plastic bag in her hand.

HAZEL: Barbara, I’m so sorry about yesterday during the USA game. I didn’t mean to-

BARBARA: Hazel, hush. I understand. We are adults. I can forgive you.

HAZEL: Oh, thank-

BARBARA: IF…!

HAZEL: If…?

BARBARA: You do one thing for me.

HAZEL: Oh, sure, anything.

BARBARA: As you know, I’m part Belgian.

HAZEL: I didn’t, but go on.

BARBARA: And as you know, the Belgian people are a proud people

HAZEL: Right

BARBARA: Who believe in great traditions

HAZEL: OK

BARBARA: And when we enter a path of forgiveness, the person we wish to forgive must perform one act for us.

HAZEL: …Which is?

Barbara raises the tiny plastic bag.

BARBARA: Hold a dog poo for 10 seconds.

HAZEL: Piss off!

BARBARA: Do you not wish for forgiveness.

HAZEL: Hold a dog poo?

BARBARA: Yes.

HAZEL: Really?

BARBARA: Yes, do not mock the great Belgian tradition-

HAZEL: OK, OK, I’m sorry. Pass it here.

Barbara opens the bag and tips the poo onto Hazel’s hand.

Five seconds in, Barbara smirks.

HAZEL: This isn’t a great Belgian tradition, is it?

BARBARA: No

HAZEL: You’re not Belgian, are you?

BARBARA: No

HAZEL: (Hopeful) This isn’t dog poo…?

BARBARA: No

Hazel looks relieved.

BARBARA: Unless a Barbara is a breed of dog…

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Cornwall. 16th June 2014. 23.50pm – Half time.

Hazel, 94, stares at the empty seat next to her, frustrated. For the first time in almost 50 years, Barbara, her best friend has missed a whole half of a world cup game.

Barbara, 96, runs into the living room dressed as an American high school cheerleader.

BARBARA: GIVE ME AN ‘H’

HAZEL: …

BARBARA: GIVE ME AN ‘A’

HAZEL: …

BARBARA: GIVE ME A ‘Z’

HAZEL: …

BARBARA: GIVE ME AN ‘E’

HAZEL: …

BARBARA: GIVE ME A ‘L’

HAZEL: …

BARBARA: WHAT DOES IT SPELL…?

HAZEL: ‘Boring bitch’?

BARBARA: Wha-

HAZEL: Let me guess… ‘Pig’?, ‘slug’?

BARBARA: No-

HAZEL: OK, um, ‘whore’?, ‘jug ears’?, ‘wank face’?

BARBARA: Bu-

HAZEL: ‘Butthead’?, ‘Slag chest’? Go on Barbara, just come out with it for Christ’s sake. Make your joke and piss off.

Barbara, head down, reaches to the side of the living room window and turns a tassel to lower the blind, revealing a huge banner that reads “MY SAVOUR, MY BEST FRIEND, MY ONE TRUE LOVE”.

HAZEL: …Barb-

BARBARA: Good night, Hazel.

Barbara walks away and up the stairs, missing, for the first time, a whole World Cup game.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Cornwall. 16th June 2014. 19.30pm – Kick off.

Barbara, 96, looks at Hazel, 94, deep in thought.

HAZEL: The Hazelnuts! Yes, that’s it. If I ran a country the football team’s nickname would be the Hazelnuts.

BARBARA: The Hazelnuts…?

HAZEL: Yeah

BARBARA: HAHAHAHAHAHA

HAZEL: What?

BARBARA: HAHAHAHAHAHA

HAZEL: WHAT?!

BARBARA: That’s so shit! HAHAHAHA!

HAZEL: Shut up!

BARBARA: HAHAHAHA!

HAZEL: Fine, go on then, what would your team’s nickname be?

Barbara wipes a tear from her eye.

BARBARA: Hazelnuts, haha, oh my word.

HAZEL: Come on then, I’m listening. What would they be called?

BARBARA: Easy. The Super Eagles. I love eagles and my team would be super.

HAZEL: Nigeria are called the Super Eagles.

BARBARA: OK, well, as my family are part Persian and we’re rather patriotic, I’d called them Team Melli – that stands for The National Team, just so you know.

HAZEL: I do know, because that’s the nickname for Iran.

BARBARA: …

HAZEL: HA! Not as easy as it looks, is it?!

BARBARA: I’ve got one!

HAZEL: Yes…?

BARBARA: The Retina Flobbers

HAZEL: Eh?

Barbara laughs as she spits a massive greenie deep into Hazel’s left eye.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Cornwall. 16th June 2014. 17.30pm – 30 minutes after kick off.

Hazel, 94, and Barbara, 96, are sat watching the Germany vs Portugal game in silence.

BARBARA: Which one’s Toni Kroos?

HAZEL: Kroos?

BARBARA: Yeah.

HAZEL: That one.

BARBARA: What, that one?

HAZEL: Yeah, that one.

BARBARA: That one?

HAZEL: Yeah, that one.

BARBARA: That one on the screen right now?

HAZEL: Yeah, that one.

BARBARA: Oh, I thought it was (Pause) that one.

HAZEL: What, that one?

BARBARA: Yeah, that one.

HAZEL: That one?

BARBARA: Yeah, that one.

HAZEL: That one on the screen right now?

BARBARA: Yeah, that one.

HAZEL: Oh right, but it’s not, it’s (Pause) that one.

BARBARA: That one?

HAZEL: Yeah, that one.

BARBARA: Oh, right.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Cornwall. 15th June 2014. 23.00pm – Kick off.

Hazel, 94, walks into the living room, her face beaming with pride at the £40.00, 300g, Argentinean Bife de lomo (beef tenderloin) that she had lovingly cooked to absolute perfection before placing it on the plate, now sitting in her hands, beside homemade sweet potato fries and salad leaves she grew in her allotment.

Barbara, 96, licks her lips.

HAZEL: I asked you if you wanted some, but you said ‘no’.

BARBARA: Yeah but…

HAZEL: Sorry, Barbara.

Hazel walks around the coffee table, clips her foot on the leg and drops the dish all over the floor.

HAZEL: …

BARBARA: (Singing) Don’t cry for me Arg-

HAZEL: Shut your fucking mouth.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Cornwall. 15th June 2014. 19.40pm – 20 minutes before kick off.

Hazel, 94, walks into the living room to find Barbara, 96, sat on the sofa fixated on the build up for the France vs Honduras game.

HAZEL: Wow, you’re ready early.

BARBARA: Oh Hazel, I just absolutely adore France.

HAZEL: Really?

BARBARA: Oh yes. It’s just such a beautiful and wonderful place. The vineyards, the architecture, the sightseeing. Brioche, baguettes, croque-Monsieur, croque-Madame, Bordeaux Sauvignon Blanc, Saint-Véran. Just magical.

HAZEL: Wow, I never knew you loved it.

BARBARA: I do. Plus, they gave me my favourite ever World Cup moment.

HAZEL: Which was?

Barbara stands up to meet Hazel, looks her deep in the eyes and sends her crashing to the ground with an almighty headbutt to the chest.

BARBARA: Au revoir.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Cornwall. 15th June 2014. 16.55pm – Five minutes before kick off.

Hazel, 94, is sitting on the sofa, chewing emmental and fiddling with her Swiss army knife. Barbara, 96, enters, covered in florescent face paint, whistles around her neck, glow sticks in her hand, ready for a rave.

HAZEL: Afternoon. Not watching the game today?

BARBARA: Dame tu mano

HAZEL: Pardon?

BARBARA: y venga conmigo

HAZEL: Come again?

BARBARA: Vamonos al viaje para
buscarlos sonidos magicos

HAZEL: …

BARBARA: ?DE ECUADOR! Do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do-

HAZEL: Wha-

BARBARA: ?ECUADOR!

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Cornwall. 15th June 2014. 2.30am – 30 minutes after kick off.

Hazel, 94, struggles to keep her eyes open. Barbara, 96, stares intently as Didier Drogba appears on screen.

BARBARA: Did you say Ivory Coast are nicknamed the Elephants?

HAZEL: mmhmm. Not sure why.

BARBARA: (Rearranging her bra strap) I’ve got a fair idea.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Cornwall. 14th June 2014. 23.45pm – Half time.

Hazel, 94, turns to Barbara, 96.

HAZEL: The problem with Glen Johnson is that he doesn’t release quick enough.

BARBARA: Unlike me…

HAZEL: Ha. But yes, dear, he holds on for too long and just doesn’t let go fast enough. He doesn’t always lose it, but often it clips an Italian player or he just times it wrong. He just doesn’t release it easily.

BARBARA: Unlike me..

HAZEL: You said that, dear.

BARBARA: Hazel…

HAZEL: Mm?

BARBARA: I’ve shat myself.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Cornwall. 14th June 2014. 20.00pm – Kick off.

Hazel, 94, sighs.

HAZEL: Such a shame Luis Suarez isn’t starting. He’s a bit of a plonker but he’s a genuinely world class player and that’s exactly what you want to see at the World Cup. He scores some cracking goals. You’d struggle to find a bad one out of the 31 he netted for Liverpool the season just gone. Plus he’s such a hard worker for the team, that’s clear from his 12 assists in the 2013-14 season, and he just doesn’t stop running. He would tear Costa Rica apart.

Barbara, 96, looks up from her iPhone, shocked.

BARBARA: Can you believe, Antony Costa is only 32? He looks at least 40.

HAZEL: …

BARBARA: Blue are shit.

© Carl Burkitt 2014