slip slidin' away

The TV news reported, in a tone desperately seeking a balance between breathless anguish and deep, soul-destroying sorrow, that the chances of Australia hosting the World Cup had "slipped through its fingers."

Mrs VVB and I gave each other look, then another one plus one just to be sure, and agreed simultaneously yet independently (well, except for the looks, obviously) that Australia hadn't been within a bull's roar of anything but international humiliation. So unless the fingers had been of a length only found in science fiction and badly drawn comics, nothing had slipped from anywhere.

As taxpayers we breathed a sigh (well actually two sighs, given that we haven't learnt how to share them yet) (yes, we were young once) (yes, probably what you're thinking) that our taxes will not be plundered for the inevitable costs of building white elephants and paying overtime to the police to keep the inevitable protesters away from them.

Fortunate, really.