Today is one of those perfect HK days. The air is clear and the weather is fine. It's warm without being hot, humid without being sticky. It's Friday. And here we are stuck on the wrong side of the glass in air conditioned boredom waiting for the quitting time whistle to blow.

This weekend will revolve around tomorrow afternoon's Rugby final. Should Australia win all will be right with the world. Should England win, well, I shudder to think. Those Poms know how to go on bleating well after they should stop: they all still talk about 1966 like it was yesterday. They can't get over that they built and then lost the greatest empire since Rome and that everyone is now better than them at sports "they" invented. It's a dark, dank, benighted country that has given the world little except a language. Even that has been taken by other countries and brought into the modern era while the English desperately cling to the notion that the "Queen's" version is the be-all. If that lady decorates like that I'm not speaking her language.

The English have given the world fish and chips, Eastenders and the Spice Girls. Their top pop star, Kylie Minogue, is an Australian. A favourite talk-show host, Clive James, is as Australian as they come as are Rolf Harris and Spike Milligan and hundreds more, and that's just in the world of entertainment. Most importantly if England suddenly disappeared tomorrow, would anyone notice or care? Yes, because suddenly the world we be free of whinging. Otherwise, I doubt it. No wonder so many every year try and emigrate, including to the bronzed Lucky Country. Their rugby is boring and unimaginative, relying almost solely on one team member's ability to kick. They are now a middling nation "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing" in the words of one of their 500 year old playwrights.

I could go on but I'm not wasting any more space on them. I will simply finish with this:

GO THE WALLABIES!!!