Lyrics….in English…
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Thanks Bonzocat, I can shout the names and imbattables , just have to be somewhere when France are playing 
When I saw the name Warren as a player it made my brain itch - had to chase after all their names! Warren is his French 1st name. Aurélien & Edouardo are also 1st names. The rest are surnames, names chosen to fit in better with the lyrics probably. There are 12 players named. Who’s the extra player…..
Hate it when something makes my brain itch!
You’re lucky to have one. 
I might not do that in a French bar. My accent already singles me out.
As what?
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Who are you pointing to, or maybe I shouldn’t ask!
Aperçu IA says….Brain itch refers to a deeply satisfying intellectual or sensory experience, often triggered by complex, creative, or perfectly ordered content. It describes something mentally engaging or stimulating, akin to satisfying an itch, which provides relief, enjoyment, or a sense of peace.
In this case ‘trivia’ triggered my brain itch!
I doubt if anyone will mind especially if your enthusiastic, bit of solidarity goes a long way 
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Not French.
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I put it on my indoor cycling music list. It really gets your legs going. Headphones on, in the garage away from the rest of the house, shouting “ imbattables” is so liberating.
I decided dancing round the kitchen to it is much more enjoyable than cooking
Old Sade concert extravaganza just out on Arte at:_
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I saw a potted history of how Sade came to fame. She was living with Robert Elms in a squat at the time.
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Voice music.
Bought this double LP more than 30 years ago, dusted it down today and seems to be in good condition. First few words from Richard Burton still sends shivers down the old spine.
No YouTube right issues apparently.
To begin at the beginning: (very softly)
It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobblestreets silent and the hunched, courters’-and-rabbits’ wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboatbobbing sea. The houses are blind as moles (though moles see fine to-night in the snouting, velvet dingles) or blind as Captain Cat there in the muffled middle by the pump and the town clock, the shops in mourning, the Welfare Hall in widows’ weeds. And all the people of the lulled and dumbfound town are sleeping now.
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Brilliant. I worked from an office in Swansea only a few 100 metres or so from where the great man was born.
Have you seen this
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Haven’t listened to Under Milk Wood for years. This time round I listened with eyes closed for 90 minutes and Dylan’s words in this production transformed into what I can only describe as a mixture of Picassoesque & Disneyesque sound images, if that makes any sense!
And just a touch of Salvador Dali!
I remember listening to Under Milk Wood on the BBC radio, still the time of clipped accents, as a ~16-year old. I was fascinated by it, because it did not quite make sense at the time. I have read the book a few since, however I still can’t get beyond chapter 3 of James Joyces Ulysses.
Ditto!
To celebrate one of the pleasures of spring.
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