Bloody hell. Holland 3-0 Italy.

That were right proper drama. Although I spent the early part of the first half trying to avoid a dubious kidney-bean salad that was being passed around Dutchie-like, I could not avert my gaze from what was quite an enjoyable tussle. I am a fan of the Italian national side. I usually enjoy the drama and histrionics that accompany them to each tournament - and how their footballing tradition usually completely disgraces them or leads them to glory. Yes they are defensive, yes they can frustrate but the ensuing narrative always adds to the colour and perception of the tournament in question. With that in mind, last night's performance from Italy (with or without the concession of a controversial goal) was unadulterated, zipless horse-kack.

I have to admit that I was surprised to see the Italians line out with only one real creative player, Andrea Pirlo, meaning that the only guile they had was about sixty yards from the Dutch goal. I'm really not sure what Roberto Donadoni was thinking. Granted that Antonio di Natale (or Christmas Tony) was meant to reprise the Del Piero/Totti role-in-the-hole-behind-the-pole-like Luca Toni (or Luca Toni) but they represented Italy as well as a Dolmio ad…particularly the latter Toni (or Latte Toni).

Donadoni's side had a similar average age to The Eagles or Rolling Stones. Materrazzi lumbered around looking for lumps to kick out of Dutchmen and only succeeded in kicking himself. Next time, I hope he kicks himself a lot harder.

I have never liked Mauro Camoranesi. Since he effectively renounced his Argentinian citizenship to avoid long haul flights for Copa-America games, his typical season usually involves impressing everyone before Christmas, eating too much cake, and then spending the second half of the season telling everyone he was great before that pesky Christ child made him fat. And he was totally crap against the Dutch. Only Zambrotta looked interested…and at least somewhat capable.

And while the Dutch broke like lightning (in classic Italian style), the Italians just broke. Their attack was linear and predictable, their defence resembling Pompeii circa late 79 AD. Only when "the striker formerly known as Del Piero" arrived on the field, did Italy look remotely like scoring. Del Piero is currently in his crucifixion year but already has had more resurrections than is healthy for even the most robust of saviours. Grosso's introduction provided some threat too but this was a day to forget for Italian supporters.

After this result, expect a lot of changes for the Romania match…and expect Italy to get to the final.