Heckling at Euro 2012 - the preview

Three long, endless weeks without a minute of meaningful football. The imprint of my round, expanding arse, sculpted painstakingly over the last nine months, is just about to disappear from the surface of my sofa. Luckily this summer there's Euro 2012, which is reason to rejoice - not because Italy or England are playing, but because it gives us, football bloodhounds like yours truly something to watch in the torpor of the otherwise useless month of June.

To hell with England and Italy, the cause of so many throat aches and hangovers across the island during the said month. To hell with the joint organisation of Poland and Ukraine, Platini and goalline technology, or the betting scandal in Italy. To hell with fair play and other UEFA campaigns which are destined to flounder ("Get on with the Ref" takes the cookie - I mean, how can you get on with the likes of Howard Webb unless you play for United?), to hell with Spain's purported dominance and the regurgitation of common football logic that will dominate the next four weeks or so.

Let's put priorities in order here. Top spot is shared equally by cold beer and good football. Second (third?) it's about how the Maltese will behave in the next few weeks, the way they live football in fandom or fanaticism.

With what appears to be a low-key edition, I wonder if we'll witness traffic jams and the same old fucking carcades. I mean get a life won't you? Do you need to step on your horn because Wayne Rooney's arse knocked the ball inches past the goalline and behave like an utter nuisance draped in a Union Jack that i) is clearly out of place and ii) entirely meaningless in the whole context, because the United Kingdom doesn't field a team (you sad sod). Not to mention your monumental ignorance of history and lack of knowledge about anything that happened before last Monday.

Do you really think that a last-gasp goal by what's his name Giaccherini (not Van Basten, mind you) means Italy will triumph, so you can get drunk and behind the wheel wearing an irritating blue shirt and blue scarf to match? Save that for the mass meeting, son. Oh I forget: you shall also pepper your Facebook statuses with some Italian phrase ripped off a slightly more learned Facebook "friend".

For the first time I will try to take extra notice of what happens around a football match (so don't expect any lectures in the fluid 4-3-3), inspired, as I am, by an anecdote a friend of mine is always happy to recount. Sat in some bar in Hamrun, one particular pundit (whose only known residence must have been the bar) had once loudly compared football to his wife because, translated roughly, "you think you've got it all in the bag, when she's actually betraying you with your plumber."

Plan of action: follow this mildly entertaining football festival from various bars, pubs and big screens in Malta; guzzle beer and nobly avoiding the birth of a beer belly during the whole process; and possibly witness a ruckus or two as temperatures soar even higher.

And yes, because I will not profess impartiality whenever I'm discussing - well - anything - I side for AC Milan and will side for Germany this time round, with a "deep sympathy" for Holland and Ireland (by deep sympathy, I mean I'd go shit, they're out but don't expect any hair-tearing action at all).

Why Germany? Yes we all hate their stereotypical superiority and most of you will think of Germany as a bloody uncreative, boringly efficient, hard tackling machine (remember Dieter Eilts, anyone?) This time round I think they present themselves with a bit of mayonnaise factor in their centre back pairing which might see them concede the odd dumb goal, compensated by the creative flourish in their midfield and attack, who are strong, fast and hardworking. They have a golden generation which includes a number of second-generation migrants who have since taught Germany how to actually enjoy their football. And, finally because I bow to them for trashing Argentina 4-0 two years ago, minutes after Maradona derided them for fielding players with names like Schweinsteiger, when he had Messi and Pastore. And they should have won the last World Cup, too.

My favourites to win? Germany, Spain, and don't really see much chance an outsider upset.

One thing is certain: on Friday at 6 I'll be sitting in front a screen with a pint.

Drink moderately especially if you're driving and don't make a fool of yourself especially as I'll be round snapping photos.