I think of all the sportsmen out there, footballers piss me off the most. First off there’s the selfishness involved with goal scoring. Trainers and managers have spent countless hours looking at strategy and drawing curves on whiteboards and the team itself has put in just as much time jogging sideways between traffic cones, all in aid of that win on the pitch, and what does a guy do when he scores? Shake hands with everyone involved? No, he runs around like a kid playing aeroplanes with the face of a porn star during the money shot, like he can’t believe what he’s just done. And dodges all his team mates who are coming at him for a hug – so now he’s a kid playing zombie escape. Darts around the pitch as he tries to work out which fans are on his side, then slides on his knees in front of the chosen ones through the sweat- and spit-caked grass. I’m sure someone’s told these guys beforehand that aliens hold the world to ransom and humanity’s survival depends winning. They’re stupid enough to believe it.

If the goal scorer seems lost on the pitch, the substitute is downright confused. This guy gets his nod and starts running back and forth alongside the pitch, as if he’s looking for a big arrow and a sign telling him where to get on. He only works it out when the guy being substituted comes close.

Then – aw, sod this. I’m sick of thinking about footballers. End of rant.