Ghotras for Goalposts

An evening of mixed fortunes on the football pitch for our party at the Panorama.

Firstly our Kingdom's glorious young team lost cruelly to a very late Socceroo goal which had our fans baying in disgust at the referee, who appeared to have played longer than the fourth official had indicated. Great to see that football fans around the world have taken the 'Respect' theme for referees to their hearts.

We then endured a rather poor game between our Saudi cousins and the South Koreans. My friends were similarly disenchanted with their referee, who sent off one of their players in, of course, total error.

Finally, an unexpected win for their old allies on enemy soil. I explained to them that this was not merely a friendly, which funnily they had already realised. Despite the sometime hurt that Western domination and interference has instilled in the Arabs, they gladly cheered the England team in the face of everybody's favourite opposition.

What was totally splendid, however, was the half-time and after-match banter back in the studio. The Arab TV companies have adopted the tried and proven method of an anchorman with two ex-players or managers. Because it was in Arabic I had no clue what was being said, but it was clearly just Ron Manager and his mates all over again. Brilliant! And further delight was had in that all were dressed in traditional Arab costume. There was something surreal about watching three chaps dressed in thob, ghotra and ogal discussing offsides and missed chances. For you Westerners, you should know that the thob is the long shirt-styled white robe, the ghotra is the head-dress, and the ogal is the heavy band that they place on top to keep the thing in place. A new addition to the party, Mohammed, has promised to bring me one of these at the weekend. They are delighted that I have offered to promote said garments in Essex.

We discussed kids' kickabouts in the park, and I told them of our use of jumpers for goalposts. We agreed that the ghotra would make a suitable replacement, and indeed, being bright white, would be useful as the light faded in the 'first team to twenty' match we would be playing. Apparently they have traditionally used stones, for as they inform me, there is no shortage of this commodity in the desert.

There is, however, a considerable shortage of concrete in the Kingdom I was told, which accounts for the large number of incomplete building projects: an aside which had little to do with our sporting theme, but does at least explain something to the bewildered traveller.

Having worn themselves out with post-match deliberation, my friends departed with a new Singaporean colleague - Peter - to their favourite flesh-pot. I can only assume they sleep sometime in the afternoon. They roar off, with promises to alert me as to their reappearance for my farewell party. I am not entirely sure what they have planned, but at least I should have a disguise if Mohammed comes good with his promise. He tells me that it is not rude to refuse an Arab's offer of hospitality, but if the Arab presses his case he may use the exhortation that if one does not accompany him, he will divorce his wife. Rather extreme in the face of a couple of beers, but I believe the seriousness of the threat!

Late result: Saudis 1, English 0.