Olé, Olé, Olé

Here we go again. 
The football fever is mounting again. 
You've got to admire the unshakable enthusiasm of the Irish football fans.
The chances of any kind of significant result are non existent. 

Or so one may be tempted to think. 
But that's only if you take into account the chances of a significant footballistic result. 
And at the end of the day, that aspect is very much secondary. 

The dionysiac result on the other hand is gua-ran-fucken-teed! Mass merriment in a foreign country. Legions of guys in green marveling at the cost of the pints (and their potency). Laughter and drinking and slagging and roasting in the sun (the away matches, wherever they happen on the planet, are always sunnier than the home games). 

The Irish fans are always the darlings of the host nations. Or at least the publicans of the host nations. No other supporter group will spend as much per capita on alcohol while causing so little damage. 

It's all about the craic. The lads. And the girlz. All dressed in green. All cheering. All having fun. All waiving beers up in the air. 

Oh, and on second thought it's a bit about the football too. 

A bit