Mr. Bitter takes on the World Cup

When I discovered the World Cup wasn't a huge, testicle-encasing safety device to protect my enormous gonads I was distraught. Then I shook off my suicidal pallor and embraced this international festival of beauty, skill and excuse to drink in the morning.
Over the coming days (provided my new computer, L'il Whitey, isn't in the shop for too long), weeks and a month and a bit I will be your guide for this veritable feast of enormous thighs (I'm looking at you, Roberto Carlos). I'll be commenting on anything and everything I god-damned please.
But first, some news on a newly discovered breed of soccer-feline. As pictured above, this new creature, closely related to the puppet lions of the Plains of Kids TV Shows Prop Rooms, has advanced ball-handling skills, advanced T-shirt wearing abilities and can kill a man at ten paces with one finely aimed swipe of its razor sharp claws. Its favourite food? Ten-year-old soccer fans. So those of you traveling to Germany with small children, be warned. This is a heartless, efficient killing machine in keeping with German tradition.