“I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.”
As England’s World Cup hopes recede into another spell of heartache, let down in Atlanta by the latest handsome, cadaverous Mr Right, a little sadder, not much wiser, sunburnt, broke, eating Jägerbomb ice cream out of the tub with a spoon, this is a good moment to seek some classic New York romcom solace. Meg Ryan was right. Don’t be sad that it’s over. Be incredibly angry and frustrated on the radio that it happened at all.
