Now, one of my favourite things to do is listen to the radio. I especially like the National Public Radio programme ‘This American Life’ which is something about which I get almost as emotional as some people get about football; at least, sometimes it make me cry and then I have to lie down for a little a while until I feel better.

So in some respects I got a lot of pleasure from listening to West Ham play Liverpool on the radio, because I just generally enjoy the cadences of radio broadacsters and the way that they have to use evocative language to describe what listeners can’t see. You can also do your dishes while listening to it which is nice if (like me) simply watching a game is too boring and you would prefer to multi-task.

But on the other hand, listening to the game on the radio does presuppose that the listener knows an awful lot about football which I don’t know, resulting in making one feel a bit like she is listening to a soap opera without knowing any of the back story or established narrative arcs. They were all, ’Oh, Torres is doing such and such’ and I realised that all I really know about Torres is that he is my six-year-old cousin’s favourite player, which is really not quite enough to keep me feeling compelled.

I will not comment further on the score of Saturday’s match, but let’s just say that The Liverpool Fan and I exchanged some rather spirited text messages and if he was my boyfriend (as some readers of this blog seem to think he is – I can’t believe the insinuation that I would become a football fan to impress a man. AS IF) we would totally be broken up now. But fortunately he is not my boyfriend at all, but just my friendly downstairs neighbour, so I am able to simply retaliate by walking around my flat in stilettos a lot.