Footballus interuptus

It was the 4th round of the Carling Cup last night. If you recall, Coventry beat Man Ure at Old Trafford in the last round, so I was particularly interested. Even better, the game was televised. Although I have a stiff deadline at work (the worst kind), I managed to escape fairly early avoiding eye contact with most of my team, got the hire bike on the road and was home half an hour before kick off. The wife was in her cleaning mode (very rare), and wasn't hungry so I had free reign of downstairs. I put a steak and kidney pie and some chips in the oven, set the timer for 30 minutes, changed to channel 401 and waited for the Spanish football to finish. The coverage started, Geoff Stelling in the chair, Gary McAllister as the guest. All good. The oven beeped and I went to get my dinner. The pie had come from the freezer, so when I stuck my finger in the middle of it, it was cold. Damnit, my timing was bad, my pie'n'chips won't be ready for the kick off. Never mind. I set the oven for a further 15 minutes, I'd be in hog heaven five minutes into the game. Wife was still busy upstairs, kid was asleep. The game started.

2 minutes into the game, there was a knock on the front door. I'd be buggered if I was going to answer it, but the wife shot down the stairs. My worst nightmare, the brother-in-law and his American wife. Now I don't do families, never have. Especially my wife's. Me and the b-i-l have a bit of history as well, so to say he is my least favourite person in the world should be taken quite literally. 'Look who's here' my wife chirupped. I think the scowl on my face stopped her in her cheerful tracks. I turned the tele off. I would rather not watch the game than watch it and have him giving me his pearl's of wisdom throughout.

'I hear you've had an accident' he said. 'Yes' I replied 'I was travellling...' 'I had an accident once' and continued to tell me about all the accidents he, his friends, his friend's friends, his friend's friends friends relations, and Michael Schumacher have had.

'How's work going' he asked. 'Ok, been a bit busy..' 'My boss is really pissing me off. I basically run the company but still wants me to put more hours in.'

And it continued in this vein for what felt like 30 years.

I guess I got off lightly, they only stayed for an hour and refused the wife's copious amounts of drink offers.

As he got up to leave (there are always at least 4 false dawns) he said 'Guess what I've got? Go on, guess'.
'Er, I really don't know' I said, tiredly, frustratedly, one eye on the remote.
'Go on, have a guess'.
'Herpes?' I replied optimistically
'A signed Springbok rugby jersey from the final'
He then walked up to me, clenched his fist and shouted 'COME ON SOUTH AFRICA' in my face. It was at this point my wife said 'Look, you had better go.'

I'm not a violent man, but there are occasions when a 25 stretch seems worth it.

So they fucked off, and I got to the game just in time to see West Ham equalise. By the time my pie and chips were reheated, the game was over and we had lost (93rd minute winner).

On a positive note, it looks like some half wit has decided to buy Coventry and the threat of administration has been shelved. Happy days.