This afternoon Simon insisted that I join him and his allies from last night for a game of football in Victoria Park. Having not played in a while and feeling rather tired, I wasn’t overly keen, yet didn’t dare disobey Simon’s orders and face his wrath.

The game of football was originally arranged at the party where a group of other “sportsmen” gave Simon the impression of being extremely enthusiastic about a kick around this afternoon. This enthusiasm was no doubt brought on by excess alcohol, something that leads to a hangover the following morning. Therefore, unsurprisingly, the previously “wannabe Ronaldinho’s” didn’t “wanna come-out-io”.

Most of the kick around was a rather mediocre affair. Lack of players and lack of passion from those who did manage to drag themselves to the park was about the gist of things. *

The football got better later on when Simon used his magical powers of persuasion (or mental intimidation) to lure two unsuspecting foreign lads and a father and son to join in. I played my David Healy role – wander around the goal and wings, waiting for a good delivery. This did provide a few goals, one of which impressed Simon greatly.

I can’t have been that good however, as I was soon relegated to goalie. I did manage to pull off some saves but also let in a fair few. Still, one thing I can say about my game, I may have been bad, but I wasn’t as shit as the Leeds players yesterday in their 4-0 raping at the hands of Stoke City.

After football we all left exhausted and drove to Garfunkles where we ate like kings. Chocolate milkshake and BBQ Chicken were among my orders and very nice they were too, especially as I was starving from being made to work like a dog all afternoon.

Now Mr. Goater (coach), where’s my £50,000 weekly pay cheque?

* Maybe a tad unfair on my team mates. Lack of passion from myself, yes, but I didn’t originally want to go, so I am excused.