Portugal

The Gaffer says

“Portugal, mate? Ceiling's the moon, son — Ronaldo's swansong, but it's that golden midfield that'll carry 'em proper. My honest worry? That backline's got more holes than my nan's old colander, and they always bottle the big one. Gut tells me semis, then heartbreak. Verdict: Proper dangerous, but nailed on to choke when it counts.”

After they went out

“Called it, didn't I? Spain nick one, Portugal go home, and Ronaldo's tears water my perfect prediction.”