In terms of the human body, the clock time is an alien. The organism has its own regularities: the beat of the pulse, the breathing, the hunger pangs… And yet, during the World Cup, time is not measured by the heart, the lungs, the stomach, or even the calendar, but by the events that occupy the day: the actions synchronize with the football matches; from hour to hour, mood changes into the strains of the goals on TV, and disposition comes in time to the sweet music of the vuvuzelas…
So, you can get a bun in the shape of a ball (a Berliner Kiba), or even stuff yourself with the last match result (I scoffed the lot).
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