SQPR et tu Brutae: An entire nation of proud Italian men and women have regained their self-respect following the victory of a car painted largely red under all its advertising logos, sort of mostly made by their fellow countrymen.
Crossing the finishing line a few seconds ahead of a silver car made by a bunch of Englishmen and Germans in a factory in Surrey, the whole of the country formally known as a bit of the Roman Empire erupted in pride and joy at the red car’s crushing marginal victory last Sunday.
“Today has been the most amazing day of my life”, one fan told us, draped in one of the red car’s flags he’d stolen from an unattended merchandise stall barely 20 minutes after the famous win.
Wrong – on so many levels, I have neither the time nor the energy to list them
“Before this weekend I was bereft; my life a drab, uninspiring morass of meaningless actions defining my life as an Italian citizen in the most anodyne and banal fashion only a daytime television commissioning editor could imagine”, he told us.
“But now that Spanish bloke with the eyebrows has vanquished the blonde one with the teeth I feel completely uplifted spiritually, fully formed and at one with this magnificent nation”, he fulminated, spreading his arms to encompass the borderline xenophobic rampage going on around him.
“Many countries rely on a peculiarly gullible populace to enable them to routinely shaft their citizens with complete impunity”, Professor Caz Carolgees of the Institute for the Study of Basketcase Nations told us.
“But the prize for outright credulous, juvenile fuckwittery surely has to go to Italy”, he added.
“Only here could a whole culture exist depending almost entirely on the slavish devotion to one lump of brightly oloured metal finishing ahead of another differently brightly coloured bit of metal every other week to grant them any self-respect”, he explained.
Arguably worse – but it’s marginal
“The nearest thing I can think of to this level of infantile retardedness is Scottish people’s relationship with Irn-Bru or just every Frenchman I’ve ever met, generally”, he surmised.
“And don’t even get me started on their clinging sentimentality for fascism and ridiculous devotion to worshiping a discredited arcane religion either”, he finished in case we had’t got it yet.
“ING-A-LURND, ING-A-LURND, ING-A-LURND, ING-A-LURND, ING-A-LURND-ING-A-LURND, ING-A-LU-URND, ING A LURRRRRRNNNND!!!!“ Richard Littlejohn later added in agreement.