NS World Cup 59 Signups (Open)

[The Kytler Peninsulae]

Count us in.

[Camwood]

okay, I'm in.

[Jeruselem]

I kissed a girl and I'm signing up too.

[Jeruselem]

The NEW look Jeru FC is signing up ...

[Jeru FC]

(As said above by the master)

[Swalenia]

I kissed a girl and I'm signing up too.

Join the club...

We're in too

[Stachland]

We're in again.

[Vilita]

Vilita,

and , confirming TURORI

[Turori]

eels

[Karditan]

Though soccer is illegal in Karditan, a group of shady men and ponies who practice the sport behind closed doors are willing to represent their nation in the Baptism of Fire and the World Cup.

[Krytenia]

But of course. EBWK, and all that.

[Audioslavia]

He peered under the brim of his trilby, smoke pouring from the cigar the hung out of the side of his mouth, it's thick, bluish smoke gathering under the rim before cascading skywards, languidly, hanging in the humid afternoon air. He eyed the suits, the ties, the clinking champagne glasses, exchanged witticisms and jovial laughs. All this behaviour he recognised. The faces, though, were new.

Our cigar smoking man would, right now, rather die than deal with the businessmen, but the guy who had been ahead of him in the queue, with his beaming, bright smile, slicked back hair and tie in two shades of blue, was eagerly waiting for the clerk to finish his paperwork so he could join in the revelries. The clerk gave her keyboard a tap before beaming a professional smile back up to the Krytenian.

"Aaand that's that, sir, Krytenia will again be part of the great World Cup community!" - a line she'd obviously peddled fifty times already that afternoon. The Krytenian nodded a thankyou and moved over to the others, grabbing a champagne glass on his way. Polite smiles, foreign accents, warm yet businesslike hugs and pats on the back. Sickening.

The clerk was looking at him expectantly. He removed the cigar from his mouth and tried to chuck it out the window, not bothering to check whether he succeeded or not.

"Hello sir!" beamed the clerk, "Here to sign your nation up for the world cup, sir?"
"Yes. Yes I am."
"I don't quite recognise your face, sir... is your nation new to the tournament?" asked the clerk, as politely as she could.
"Not quite..." began the man. "We've... been around the block."
"I see!" beamed the clerk again, clearly not bothered either way but trying to be as smotheringly polite as possible. "And what's the name of the country you're representing sir?"
"My country? Hah. My country. maam... my country, is the proud country of HOLY CRAP THE CURTAIN IS ON FIRE!"
The clerk, shocked, looked round to see that the mysterious figure was indeed right. The foot of a very expensive looking curtain was ablaze, as was the hem of our protagonist's floor-length mackintosh.
"Shit... shit shit shit shit shit" he yelped, stamping his feet to try to put out the flames, and succeeding only in tripping himself over and falling to one side. A brave waiter turned makeshift firefighter, cracking open the nearest bottle of champagne and shaking it, spraying both man and curtain with foam at perhaps $20 per bubble.

The flames had stopped. The figure, still prone on the floor, covered in expensive champagne, wearing a slightly charred coat and a hat that would need extensive dry-cleaning, pulled himself up onto his hands and looked up to see the entire room staring at him. All was silent. The figure looked around, first to the faces, then the door, then the clerk, then the door, calculating the best possible resolution to the situation and coming up blank. Then, the simple twinkle of a dropped champagne glass. The suit with the two-tone blue tie had lost his drink. He stared, open-mouthed, recognising the claret and green pattern on the fallen man's tie.
"Oh no..." said the Krytenian.

"Oh... erm... yes" retorted the floored man, pulling himself back to his feet. He turned back to the clerk. "So, that's 'Holy Shit the Curtain's on Fire-istan' for the World Cup, please"
"Will you be needing a Baptism of Fire?"
"I believe" the man started, lighting another cigar "that I just had one".
"And your name, sir?"
"Jaffacake" replied the man, blowing a plume of blue smoke into the face of the poor girl. "Jeremy Jaffacake."

"Oh no...". This time, it was the rest of the room.

ooc: WC and BoF for us, please.

[Pretty Awesome Persons]

In.

[Western cuba]

Wow this is already up? Count us in.

[United Soviet Countries]

Miskandra Suburbans.

[Qazox]

Qazox will attempt to win the cup for the 32nd time.

[Carmadin]

Carmies in

Ill probably enter a puppet
Which one?
Who knows?

[Unitopolis]

I'm in, and pre-confirming Hanox as my puppet

[Hanox]

I'm in, and pre-confirming Hanox as my puppet

Yep, pre-confirmation confirmed

[Baleyaroh]

Count me in!

[Gyatso-kai]

Officially, the Avatarian Republics of Gyatso-kai do hereby sign-up for the Fifty-Ninth Edition of the World Cup.

[Ketharnia]

Ketharnia hereby signs up for World Cup 59, the fifth our nation has participated in.

[Kagdazka and Pazhujebu]

I'm in like Lin

[Azrael]

Azrael shall enter! I'll also attempt to defend my BoF title with my puppet nation of Planet Irk.

[Planet Irk]

Azrael shall enter! I'll also attempt to defend my BoF title with my puppet nation of Planet Irk.

Confirmed. BoF here we come!