I’m one of those terrible people who only watches football when the World Cup or the Euros are on, this is probaby because I’m native of Leyton and when I was a kid in the late 70s/early 80s to support Leyton Orient was the football equivalent of nailing your scrotum to a plank of wood. (Talking of that practice, I once had an editor who thing was doing the self-same practice and I remember him having a drunken rant about my safe sexual practices – though I strongly suspect he might have been trying to turn me to the darkside).
But I digress, I’ve been watching most of the matches during this World Cup competition because it is something to do and it is better than the majority of daytime slush they serve up to the underemployed, the retired and the homebound parent. However, this is the first competition where I’ve had little children running around the place and Verity, my nearly-three-year-old daughter has been enjoying the competition herself. I guess it all began when the Daily Mirror gave away a set of Top Trump England Player cards with the newspaper and her nan kept supplying the cards to her.
She has also developed a fascination for flags. The few locals round here displaying the George Cross have had her entranced when we’ve gone for our daily wander and she was equally delighted when The Sun gave away a free flag – this is the only real bonus of having a newspaper shop is we get dabs on all the free crap they make us stuff in the papers. Don’t worry, we do that – there’s no machine to put the supplments and free DVD’s inside – it’s muggins here who has that great duty.
We’ve been playing in the garden with a football and Verity punts the ball and exclaims: “Yes, I’ve scored a good goal!” – the same is said when she throws her blow-up “In The Night Garden” beach ball at me when we are indoors. The main problem is that whenever I turn over the football during half-time because I can’t stand listening to the pundits wafflng, I end up with madam doing a paddy.
“I want it on!” she bawls, “I want the football on”.
“But’s it is half-time,” I reply wearily, before turning the TV to the Disney Channel which usually shuts her up until the second-half starts.
It’s going to be great the next World Cup because I will be having Verity and Herbie both telling me what to do. I think that’s my main role now…and The Missus. We just fetch and carry, clean bottoms, pick up dropped toys, feed, water and drudge our way through the day. Of course, we wouldn’t change it for anything. Every day brings new joys and my only regret is not having a small army of children. However, I think The Missus would have something to say about that.
Meanwhile, being a good boy the year’s accounts are back and I had a visit from the men from the bank yesterday – the experience left me feeling a little depleted. Not because of anything they said, but because dealing with the money-lenders always brings how well your business is doing into sharp relief, especially when one of them says: “Have you tried getting a job and rejoining the 9 to 5?”
“Yes, I’ve tried that,” I replied, “I’ve tried everything.”
Oooh look – there’s Darren pissing in the wind.

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