The remote control for the bedroom telly is wonky. At 4 a.m. I could get the picture for Germany v Uruguay but without sound. It was too cold to get out of bed and turn up the volume, so I struggled through the first half vuvuzelaless. Then I fell asleep again.
I awoke for the last half-minute, and braved the cold to turn up the commentary. The guy was saying it had been one of the best matches.
So today I went to buy a new remote, ready for the final.
My brother Beef McClochendichter wants Spain to win. For me the choice is easy. A country that gave the world dope cafes and Hirsi Ali. Or a country that gave us bull-torture and the last home of European fascism. The last time I saw Holland play was in 1982, brilliant they were. I know nothing about football but I know what I like.