Mutterings of grief from sports subs and yelps of joy from a lawyer as Chelsea score; extreme misery as Bristol Rovers concede a fourth (that'll be me); and the usual level of quiet smugness from the Old Trafford-in-exile community. Which is all very well, but frankly I wish I could get to a game instead.
(Apparently there's been some rugby on too, somewhere.)
Sunday papers, caffeine and swearing notwithstanding, have their drawbacks ... but you only do it if you really enjoy the Saturday adrenaline rush.
