For vier years ich live in Berlin-Neukölln und love German Bier (all sorts), German Food (Döner) und a game called Fußball. Today playen unsere boys against Portugal, a Minicountry in Africa. We werden winnen, yes, of course! I sit vor a big Bildschirm in a empty Kneipe in a Bowlingcenter, have noch kein Bier, da maken wir our first Tor, wonderful! Second Schluck, next chance, wir are Helden. Das Bier ist small and teuer, clock-clock, the Raum very laut. But egal. New Bier, new attack, new Tor, STRIKE, yeah! Many German Grandpas und Grandmas in white shorts and with Bier in the Hand stehen vor the Bildschirm like oilgötzen. Ich can see nothing, they are all Nazis, holy shit! I sit me um. A paar minutes later an Ami makes a Tor with a Kopf, but es zählt trotzdem, dreizero! Slowly ich have Mitleid with the poor people in Portugal, doch suddenly they make a Tor, fuckin’ fuck, I hate Portugal and this noisy stupid bowling! Pause, Pipi, new Bier, let’s fetz! New Bier, the game is öde, gibt us the next Gegner. Sevenzigste minute, a Tor für Portugal, no problem, that ist only a kind of Entwicklungshilfe, wir are generous. Then the game is over, 3:2, yep! Ich pay und leave the Neue Welt, ein place with the »größten innerstädtischen BAUHAUS-Filiale Europas«. But ich am too drunken to visit es.