Liturgy on the Spiritual Aspects of Germany Thrashing Brazil

Archdruid: Fallen!  Fallen is Rio the Great!

All: It wasn't even a close shave...

Archdruid: That is enough of that.

All: Ooh missus.

Archdruid: Dionysus is defeated by clinical, efficient Apollo.

All: The machine munches the flowers.

Archdruid: The left hemisphere outmanoeuvres the joyous, irrational right.

All: Samba is replaced by dull, bleak electro pop.

Archdruid: Bahn-bahn-bahn

All: Autobahn

Archdruid: Bahn-bahn-bahn

All: Autobahn

Archdruid: Gone are the freebooting swaggering footballers of the Dream time.

All: Fallen to the robotic Dennisen Den Menacen.

Archdruid: Where is the Beautiful Game?

All: Crushed by Teutonic efficiency.

Archdruid: Bend it like Beckham?

All: Vorsprung Durch Technic.

Charlii: Wait!  Wait! You've got it all wrong!  The Germans were playing football like it should be played!  The Brazilians were the ones lumping it around, kicking people off the park, dependent on one or two star players. Credit where it's due.

Archdruid: Charlii, thou mayst be right. But thou'rt at odds with the popular narrative. Clearly the real problem was that the Brazilians are now called Hulk and Fred and Eric, instead of Pele, Juninho and Jairzinho. They need more romantic names!

All: They just need better names!

Archdruid: And so, as the era of bleak,  Nord-Europe football sweeps the globe like a plague of boring 7 - goal victories, kicking up the sand into a North Sea dune of efficiency, grinding the chorizo of false number 9s into bloodwurst, we wail and remember the Latino wonders of old.

All: Bloody Germans.

Far off, the sound of bossa nova is overtaken by the tones of an oompah band.