Singing the Dutch national anthem today...give a warm welcome to Shteve McClaren...

The sun is bright in Durban, and the future is Oranje...

Hangovers are rarely relished, but the one we woke up with yesterday following England's miserable yet sadly inevitable demise against the Germans was a particularly punishing one.

Due to the unexpected rain in Durban, we were forced to find shelter in a beachfront pub, jam-packed with roughly half and half of fans from both sides, plus a smattering of Dutch arriving early for their game here.

We're not quite sure how the press post-mortem is going over there (Fabio out? Bring in goalline technology? Just what future did Wayne Rooney write ala his nike advert?), but over here the majority were big enough to hold hands up and admit that England were beaten by a more talented, more organised and infinitely more exciting Gerry side. Some (after a few shandies admittedly) even wished the sterling German fans the best for the tournament. We three ToePokers over here in Saffa certainly wouldn't be opposed to seeing them go all the way. Jesus, what's happening to us!?

But enough of England's latest misery, for after several too many downed Anadins yesterday morn, we managed to spend the day with a smoke and a pancake with the Dutch at the Holland/Slovakia game at the astounding Moses Mabhida Stadium. It's our second time there now, and we'd still go as far as to say it's alongside, if not better, dare we say it, than Wembley.

Enrique the Chilean and the obligatory pervy Zulu tit shot...

The Slovaks were sparse in number, the Dutch were, er, orange, and the Chilean and Brazilian chaps who accompanied us from our hostel were kind enough to utter polite, if confused, chortles when we regaled them with our best Shteve McClaren Twente impressions. Nyshe.

While the din of the vuvus is not as appreciated when one's head is already banging louder than a Brian Blessed belly laugh, the game was entertaining enough and the enterprising Dutch were deserved and welcome winners, with the Oranje Brad Pitt our man of the match. That's Dirk Kuyt by the way. He might have blonde pubes for a mane and a face that resembles a dusty bag of petanque boules, but that boy can play.

And we say a welcome Dutch win, because our last set of World Cup tickets (unless we blag some more from somewhere) are for the resulting quarter final, and after the Brazilians also did the biz against Chile, we now have the dream tie we were after, Holland v Brazil, which more than makes up for the unexpected and somewhat undesired appearance of the tidy but hardly Hollywood Slovaks instead of the useless Italians in this round of 16 tie.

So it's back to Port Elizabeth now for what promises to be a blinding encounter, hopefully via the Addo Elephant Park, where the name of the game will be to find a wild animal uglier than Dirk Kuyt. Sorry Dirk.

Stay tuned for more pictures from that one, and also a list of the ten things we'll be bringing back from Saffa.

Till then, Ayoba!

Kids struggled with the new version of Where's Wally...