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Beached Wales – Iceland 2 Wales 2

0

My, times have changed.

Here in the cetacean centre of the world, for one wonderful first half Craig Bellamy gave Wales a strong sense of porpoise, only to get harpooned in a crazy second half.

‘A’ grade goals had us purring with delight and wondering if several more were on the way. Mentally, three points were in the bag.

Second half, with man in form Brennan Johnson withdrawn after some effective, er, chaperoning, was a different story and many fans had the humpback.

Statue of Albert Gudmundsun, outside the ground, Iceland’s first pro footballer, who died aged 71 in 1994

Two goals given away and the post-match verdict centred on some minke business and the collusive media didn’t help.

“Should’ve asked Bellamy how he screwed it up,” was the gist of it as several fans blubb(er)ed away through their blowholes afterwards.

Knives out after three games, an impressively swift conclusion even by today’s standards of instant condemnation. Where’s Rob Page when you need him? He’d have parked the bus.

Well it’s a fair enough point and after seeing Wes Burns play the home number nine (one of our best performers on the night) in only for him to miss a winner it seemed like a mass stranding was on the cards. 1,000 Welsh fans stupified by washing up in Reykjavik to watch a great unravelling.

But like Bellamy really cares what anyone thinks. He’s been a one-off maverick all his life.

I recently went down Penarth golf club with my old man and the retired teachers there were talking about how staff handled him back in the 90s at his school. And most old-school fans from the days when a 2-2 away draw was often a good result, have a tale about him. ‘Maverick’ wouldn’t have done him justice back then.

But let’s go with the risks, eh? Turkey were outplayed. Didn’t see it, but Montenegro was a great game.

We may even have a shout at qualifying for the World Cup – I’d given up hope of that a long time ago.

Your cut out and keep cetacean spotting guide, handily place on the waterfront. Plus a big puffin.

Looks like the boss will play this fanny-around-the-back stuff until we get it right, with a view to it coming together by the time of next year’s World Cup campaign.

As for Reykjavik, there were compensations in this grey, concretey capital which charges through the nose for everything. If you know anyone planning a bank job, I’m available.

Not many Bjork-alikes in town this week but this channelled some gothic vibes:

This made me laugh:

And the BBC reported in June that whaling hereabouts may not survive much longer now that only one firm does it. It faces local opposition:

But I was too timid to venture into the penis museum – yes there is one – lest I was asked to be an exhibit.

And on that note, see you in Turkey, cock!