The BBC have a lovely new film to promote its natural history programmes. Over snippets of cutesy animals, his royal highness, David Attenborough, reads the lyrics to What A Wonderful World.
It's simply beautiful. Then comes THAT shot of two baby polar bears and David says 'I hear babies cry and watch them grow' and as a nation, we all shout 'yeah, in a bloody zoo!'
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My wife, my business partner and several friends and acquaintances are among what is probably a majority who fail to understand the emotional bond between a fan and his (or her) football team.
Let's say it's a man. Better still, let's say it's me though it may be you too.
The relationship between a fan and their team is, quite simply a marriage. Or at least a good marriage.
You are in it for life. You want to be in it for life. Although there are times when you think, why the hell do I do this. But you do it. Sometimes it's a bit routine. You wonder whether there is more to life and what might have happened if you had supported that other lot down the road or someone more glamourous or a bit younger. But then you think, nah, I'm actually the luckiest man in the world when all's said and done.
It's just like marriage. You do it once a fortnight and sometimes it feels like you're just going through the motions when you fail to get as excited as you once did, but then occasionally you do and you come out, pause for breath, light a cigarette and mutter 'fantastic.'
Of course, it can be dispiriting. The kids let you down, they run off with someone else, they get arrested. Though most of the time you're just proud that they try their best for you and wish them luck when they leave home.
Occasionally you turn up drunk or say something stupid in front of guests and they all feel embarrassed for you.
It can be expensive but you don't think of the cost. It's only when you tot up how much it's cost over your lifetime that you realise - blimey, I could have bought a Bentley for that.
But a Bentley doesn't lift you to the same heights or such depths of despair. And if you were going to pop your clogs, you'd much rather it was watching the ones you love than in the seat of a car.
Of course some people get married more than once but that first one is a bit of mistake. You were a bit hasty and fell for the first team that caught your eye but eventually you end up with 'the one' and it was always meant to be.
And there are different marriages of course. What I am describing applies to Spurs, I feel.
If you support West Ham then it's like marrying a childhood sweetheart and hoping that one day you'll buy your own council house and Liverpool is an arranged marriage. Your parents insist on it and, it turns out, you end up being loyal and comparatively happy with a tendency to complain a lot.
Arsenal fans thought they were marrying some posh bird with a bit of an exotic accent but despite enjoying plenty of trips to Europe and lots of sophisticated nights out, they've very little to show for the last few years.
Chelsea fans married some East European catalogue bride for her dad's money and Manchester United fans are like those smug married couples who, every Christmas, send you a card detailing all the wonderful achievements of their children. Little Ryan had a bit of a falling out with his brother. Ginger ran away from home and we thought we'd lost him but he came back again.
At least, most of the time it's like a marriage. However, for our lot, this season has been more like an affair. It's been a real blast, a lot of fun and quite invigorating. And now, even though it's all over, you can say 'well it's been worth it' and go back to normal, hoping for the occasional high, accepting there will be good days and bad days, but sticking with it until the bitter end. Oh yeah, and it looks like dad may be going to prison.
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A while ago I mentioned Evening Standard pisspoor columnist Sarah Sands who tried to argue for the existence of God by claiming the sitcom Rev was funnier than anything about atheists and Leonardo di Vinci did some nice paintings. Today she's at it again. To paraphrase her column, she argues that because religion has such beautiful churches, religion is a 'good thing'.
Reading this rubbish, it reminds you that the best city in the world has one of the shittiest local newspapers serving it. As with its mayor, London deserves better.
Knock knock. Who's there. M.A.B. M.A.B. who? M.A.B. it's because I'm a Londoner.
See ya....Solly
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