JUST BEFORE HEADING DOWN to the pub we happened to stumble across what is undoubtedly the soundtrack for the ages that will forever more be inseparable from everyone's appreciation of the World Cup.
Words fail to encapsulate the importance, nay, the historical signifigance and downright genius of what can only be described as the greatest musical score since Bach laid down his quill.
The composition, simply entitled "Vuvuzela Concerto in B Flat", exquisite as it is in its simplicity and grace, manages to capture the bittersweeet lyricism and fragile beauty of the Vuvuzela in full flight.
Though one might argue it doesn't quite achieve the anthemic qualities of Three Lions or Vindaloo, all we here at The INQUIRER, being the deeply soaked music connoisseurs that we are, feel that the Vuvuzela Concerto in B Flat captures the essential mood of our entire bloody and aching world at this pivotal juncture in politics, sport and evolution. Darwin would be proud.
So we urge you, fellow countrymen and women, indeed citizens of the world, to stand firm, drape the Saint George's Cross or your own flag over anything you can find, grab a Vuvuzela and do your Queen (or King, or President or this year's dictator) and country proud.
For those patriotic chaps who are unsure of what the desired effect should be, The INQUIRER Philharmonic Orchestra managed to be dragged away from the pub to record a rousing rendition of "Vuvuzela Concerto in B Flat". What can we say but, enjoy! µ
Well, OK, maybe wound it a little
An interesting concept that perhaps should have stayed just that for now
You know, if you want to
Yes means yes. No means yes. Here means no. But only for eight hours. Possibly