I know the whole country seems to have dissolved into Rooney-mania, but this takes the biscuit. I've just been listening to TalkSport, which, when it's not at number three in the singles chart, is also a radio station, and they've just run a new trailer for tomorrow's live football coverage, describing Wayne Rooney thus: "He could probably date any woman in England... he's the closest thing on earth to the angel Gabriel".
I'm not questioning the accuracy of that statement, obviously. Well not much. But what really annoys me is that they've blatantly stolen the phrase from Tommy Boyd, who they callously sacked from the airwaves over two years ago. I should know, I based Adam from 'Be Worth It' on that man. Unless you're the Soho Theatre, in which case you seem to think Adam is "hovering somewhere between being a real radio DJ and a fairly clever but overwritten personification of God".
Which is outrageous. He's not a DJ, he's a broadcaster.
Anyhoo, as Tommy used to say, "I could go out with any woman in the country. I'm a complete human being. A genius. The closest thing on earth to the angel Gabriel". And that was without scoring two goals for England, or looking like a potato. Wayne Rooney isn't fit to lick his boots. Even if he is a bit too big for them.
As for me, well I'm back in the bosom of Shotley Gate, having driven home in the middle of the night through Mother Nature's version of a power shower. I was startled to find a raw chicken breast on the doorstep outside Lisa's block of flats, which made a change from the armchairs and fridges which residents usually chuck over their balconies, but I resisted the temptation to take it with me, and instead enjoyed a takeaway meal of three cold roast potatoes and a packet of Polos on the journey home. Mmmm... nothing says lovin' like something from the oven. Unless you see Lisa with a packet of sausages.