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

Cornwall. 14th June 2014. 16.45pm – 15 minutes before kick off.

Hazel, 94, smiles proudly at the bowls of homemade moussaka, hummus, tzatziki, tiropites, baklava, galaktoboureko, taramasalata, youvetsi, souvlaki, yemista, fassolakia lathera, tsoureki, keftethes and kourabiethes sitting on the living room’s coffee table. Barbara, 96, walks in and lies on the sofa, eying up the food.

BARBARA: Got any pita bread?

Hazel walks to Marks and Spencer.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Cornwall. 13th June 2014. 23.50pm – Half time.

Hazel, 94, rubs her weary eyes. She looks at Barbara, 96, eight empty Fosters cans on her lap.

BARBARA: Chile

HAZEL: Yep

BARBARA: Chilly willy

HAZEL: Oh, are you cold?

BARBARA: Chilli con carne

HAZEL: Hungry?

BARBARA: Chilling

HAZEL: I’m going to bed.

Hazel walks up the stairs.

BARBARA: Chillax

HAZEL: Go to hell, Barbara.

Barbara vomits, multiple specks stick to her cork hat.

© Carl Burkitt 2014