What I expect from you

Because it is, after all, the World Cup.

Now don't get me wrong. I know you all have your own lives, and I'm sure you want to get on with them as usual. For instance, many of you haven't even booked time off work. Those of you that have may even have done so for non-footballing reasons. I even know people who are going camping. Camping! In the middle of the World Cup! The mind boggles.

But I forgive you. What you can't do, though, is go having life events that demand my attention. Be extra careful when operating heavy machinery. Is it your birthday? No it isn't. Pregnant? How dare you. Exams? Don't be absurd. Actually, no, exams are fine, because all the time you're cooped up in an airless gym calculating root mean squares you can't be possibly be wanting anything from me.

You get the general idea. What you can do, what I'd actively like you to do, is come round and watch some games with me. We could have pizzas and beer. You know where I live. Unless you don't, in which case stop getting above yourself. This is a professional relationship, and I'm not having any truck with stalkers until mid-July at the earliest.

And just because you don't know me, don't think that gives you carte blanche to be having interesting times. Last World Cup BP stole all the headlines by haemorrhaging crude oil right across the Gulf of Mexico. They finally staunched the flow on July 15. Four days after the final. What good is that?

Right, well I'm glad we've cleared that up. Do come again.