Day 12 - 19th May 2006
There was this programme called Cash in the Attic whereby some sort of family heirlooms are sold off to raise enough cash for the occupants of the house, they were basically lifted from, to do something special.
Now in principal the idea seems a great one. After all, Iíd have no qualms about doing something similar to raise funds for my season ticket next year. Unfortunately, thatíd never be the case, let me explain.
The house and subjects they choose are not like you and me. The houses are grandiose in style and the ornaments have never stood a chance of being knocked off of a shelf by the siblings playing football in the lounge and then, if possible, stuck back together with glue.
These houses donít look lived in even. No newspapers lying around, no takeaways waiting to be thrown out and no towels chucked on the bathroom floor until the wife moves them. Generally, they are devoid of clutter.
In fact you have to wonder why these people need to flaunt themselves on television to raise what must be, for them, a pittance. Perhaps, they look forward to meeting up down the local conservative club and telling everybody about the experience; itís probably just a form of snobbery.
Thankfully, I was soon rescued from a fate worse than death by a news conference from North London relating to a relatively unknown player plying his trade at Cashburden Grove (nee Highbury).
Being totally insignificant and unlikely to affect our status as back-to-back-Premiership titles, I hit the off button and went for a quick snooze to dream about that posh bird who was the subject to of Cash in the Attic Day time television has at least one thing going for it.
Never mind, twenty one days and counting until the greatest football fest the planet has ever seen.