If you subscribe to the right places you are never more than a couple of channels away from a live football match these days. Normally on a Saturday I am away with QPR but as we have a Latvian centre half and Icelandic striker we do not have to play on international weekends which gives me the chance to join a very exclusive club. A club of people so sad watching Paraguay v Bolivia in the middle of the night seems relatively normal to them – the adverts for erectile dysfunction and buxom blondes waiting to take your call should tell you it is not, it’s a select group of weirdoes up at that time for that match.

I have often noted that on international Saturdays you can sit and watch football back to back from noon on Saturday through until daylight on Sunday. I have even tried to do it once or twice, but by the time the South American card-a-thons come in the wee small hours even I have chickened out in the past. Anyway, writing about football on TV for goalfood.com gives me the chance to give it a go. Is it possible? Should it even be attempted? Will I live to tell the tale? If not, treat this as my suicide note.

12.15pm. Right I’m settled into the trusty leather recliner at LoftforWords Towers and the day’s entertainment is about to begin. I have actually already been on the go for four hours this morning which is unheard of for me on a non-QPR Saturday. I was having my hair cut at 8am and Paul the barber had a red hot tip that Crawley Town are going to get annihilated at York today so that has tempted me into the murky world of online gambling. I’ve backed a draw at 12/5 in the first game of the day - Charlton v Brentford on Sky Sports 1. Charlton have won their first five matches but it is unusual for a team to win its first six no matter how good they are and Brentford are a very decent team themselves. I have a treble with wins for Carlisle, Gillingham and Norwich, and another one with Scotland drawing, England and my mate Ian Holmes’ Eastwood Town side winning. I’ve gone for a bit of a Hail Mary accumulator as well with Lincoln, Notts County, Port Vale, York and Cambridge all winning. Lincoln are the dodgy one, albeit against bottom side Darlington, but I’m banking on new manager syndrome there.

12.23pm. First gripe of the day – co-commentators and expert summarisers talking about their mates. Jamie Redknapp is obviously the worst example of this with his dad managing Tottenham and cousin Frank, who Jamie talks about with more affection and love in his voice than when he speaks about his lovely wife Louise, but today in the Charlton game we have Scott Minto and Christian Dailey. Dailey is playing for Charlton these days and according to Minto is the fittest footballer playing the game today (he’s not) can play full back on both sides (he can’t) could still do a job in midfield (he couldn’t) and is a player anybody would want in their side (he’s not). Never once does he mention that Dailey’s chronic lack of pace and ability rendered him average in his prime and next to bloody useless since 2003.

12.26pm. GOAL. If my 12/5 draw bet is coming in, it’s coming from a losing position. Poor defence by Brentford under a long crossfield pass allows Lloyd Sam to set up Deon Burton for a simple opener. Charlton have only conceded five goals so far this season announces commentator Ian Darke, which sounds quite ominous but as we are only five games into the season I actually take a bit of heart from that..

12.36pm. First shot of Brentford manager Andy Scott on the touchline. A hugely promising young manager whose career was sadly ended by a heart condition but today he appears to have done my brother’s trick of coming to the football dressed and ready for his night out. A smooth, silky black shirt and skinny black jeans with brown belt sparks a “he looks young” comment from Mrs Clive before she quietly takes herself upstairs. Hopefully to do ironing or something. In amongst all that there’s a shot from Brentford’s Lewis Price that nearly catches out Rob Elliott at the other end – the ball travels the best part of 100 yards and nearly went in. Price thinks it’s hilarious, Elliott less so.

12.40pm. First beer of the day. It’s San Miguel, so the toilet will need cleaning tomorrow, but Morrisons are doing it at three cases of 20 bottles for a tenner which is actually cheaper than tap water so who am I to argue?

12.48pm. GOAL. Lloyd Sam makes it 2-0. Charlton are running pretty hot, Brentford look like they are still in bed.

12.50pm. Jesus wept there’s Carl Cort there look. I didn’t even realise he was playing. Gripe of the day number two – television companies showing an offside decision frame by frame and then slating the linesman when it turns out on third look that the player might have been level. The linesman gets one look at full speed from ground level and the summarisers should have to give an opinion based on first glance.

12.52pm. Brentford losing the plot, two bookings in a minute for tackles that could easily have brought red cards. Minto says Brentford have actually been the better team – now I know the advert says I’m missing something not having an HD box to go with my HD television but am I watching a different game?

12.57pm. Cort misses an absolute sitter off a great cross from Taylor. That bloody black cat from down the road is shitting in my garden again. We call it Jude after the QPR mascot which makes me like it a bit more, but I do wish it would leave my grass alone. It lives with a vegetarian family, so I might pop out with a bit of an old sausage for it at half time just to piss them off.

1pm. Ian Darke - massive respect. Reminding Charlton fans about their moronic moans and groans about lack of ambition when they “only” finished mid table in the Premiership under Curbishley. You reap what you sow and Charlton fans certainly got what they deserved for those ridiculous complaints that are never mentioned now they’re in League One – well done Darke for bringing that up. Minto says it’s a fantastic club. Mrs Clive is back with a warm glow in her cheeks and no work shirts.

1.06pm. Half time, and I’m told there is washing up to be done.

1.24pm. Back from the sink and it’s Dean Kiely in the studio – as articulate as Stephen Fry, as ugly as that thing they keep chained up in the Goonies. Quick toilet trip before the start of the second half – one beer and one piss is not a good ratio by anybody’s standards, I’m going to have to do some scrambled eggs on toast to soak it up before the Scotland match or I’m going to be up and down like a bride’s nightie this afternoon.

1.48pm. A dull second half threatens to spring to life when the highly rated John-Jo Shelvey attempts to lob Lewis Price from 45 yards out. In the end his shot has too much on it and flies into the stand. Shelvey is highly rated at The Valley and certainly has a great work rate but on this evidence he has much still to improve on. At the other end Carl Cort finally hits the target but Elliott makes a superb save to deny him at close range.

1.58pm. It’s not Brentford’s day. David Hunt hits the cross bar with a free kick from fully 30 yards out. We’ll do well to see a better free kick than that today, even with Brazil v Argentina still to come.

2.08pm. Into stoppage time and sub Izale McLeod has a goal disallowed for offside. Minto is at it with his freeze frame again, but the linesman is right this time. Hunt has another free kick into the wall and that is about it. Time for light refreshments and a bit of Soccer Saturday before Burley’s Tartan Army starts to march. Or not, as the case may be.

2.11pm. Ahhh Jeff Stelling, perfect for television – 5ft tall with a giant head. Like those Corinthian football figures I used to buy from Woolworths. I never did manage to get a Gary Penrice for that collection, and Warren Barton always fell over because his hair made him top heavy.

2.33pm. Sweet Mother of Christ DFS are having a sale! Best get down there, apparently it ends on Monday.

2.35pm. Possibly the worst shirt ever seen on televisions - a blue, white and yellow check affair – spotted on a researcher in the studio behind Iain Dowie. Not since a man with a pony tail turned up to Luton v QPR and sat next to the away end have I seen such an obvious fashion disaster. In the foreground Dowie is admitting he had Jermaine Beckford on trial at Palace but stuck with Dougie Freedman instead which is why, as Stelling points out, he is now sitting in television studios and not dugouts.

2.47pm. Old Father Clive is rolling over in his grave as we watch a feature on Tony Roberts playing into his 40th year with Dagenham.. He wasn’t one of my Dad’s favourites and was once featured on the front of QPR fanzine A Kick Up The R’s under the headline: ‘Maybe we should start using a ball with a bell in it’ but he seems to be doing alright for himself now. Dean Windass is on after him and I can almost smell him through my television screen so it’s off back to Sky Sports 1 for Scotland v Macedonia in time for the national anthem – 500 Miles by the Proclaimers. Flower of Scotland follows, sung by Father Christmas in a kilt. He appears to be drunk, goes down well though.

2.50pm. Richard Gough is the studio guest. Or is that Bill Nighy? Whoever it is looks rough, a bit like Gillian Tailforth after a particularly exhausting lay-by session and packet of heavy tar smokes.

2.55pm Beer number two of the day. No Iron Bru in the house I’m afraid. Nobody seems too sure what system Scotland are playing, least of all George Burley who has picked Stephen McManus for his first competitive match since 1996. I’ve got money on a draw here.

3pm. Sumulikoski and Pandev ring bells in the Macedonia side, but my knowledge of them does not stretch much further than that and the famous piece of darts commentary from Sid Waddell: “When Alexander of Macedonia was 33 he cried salt tears because there were no more worlds to conquer. Eric Bristow is 27."

3.11pm. The Macdonians appear to be violent and cynical in equal measure. Davie Provan is our co-commentator here, speaking in the tone that all Scottish football people have been using for the last year or so – optimism mixed with scepticism. On early evidence Burley has confused his own players as much as the Macedonian ones, the visitors have started much the better.

3.20pm. The robust nature of the visitors’ play forces Callum Davdson off injured and Macedonia take the free kick quickly so he cannot be replaced immediately. That fires Scotland up and Brown goes close with a volley before Igor Mitreski is booked for annihilating Kenny Miller from behind. It’s a diabolical challenge, a ‘reducer’ as Ron Atkinson may have called it. With the ball though Macedonia are quite attractive and Gordon has to be at his best to deny Pandev. Provan is starting to despair, Burley has switched back to 442. Whatever the hell the previous system was lasted a quarter of an hour.

3.50pm. I’m not going to lie to you, I dozed off. I have woken up to a dispute between both sets of players over a ball Scott Brown was supposed to be returning to the goalkeeper but actually won a corner from instead. James McFadden is booked but that looks to be a case of mistaken identity – he’s banned for the Holland game now. It’s bloody Jim White in the studio who is the second biggest perpetrator of complete bullshit and hyperbole delivered at excessive volume on Sky Sports after Chris Kamara so it’s back to Jeff for half time while White  blows hot air up his own arse with Charlie Nicholas and Bill/Gillian/Richard.

4pm. Carlisle and Norwich are drawing an Gillingham winning in one of my trebles. York, Cambridge, Lincoln and Port Vale are all winning in the accumulator, Notts County are drawing.

4.10pm. Both sides miss great chances. McFadden blasts over an open goal after taking time to set himself, then Pandev goes through on goal only to be denied by Gordon.

4.18pm. GOAL. A nation erupts as Scott Brown flicks McFadden’s cross into the net to give Scotland the lead. Mrs Clive wonders if there is a Scott Land out there somewhere.

4.28pm. The bloody cat is back in the garden, presumably on its way back from wherever it was going earlier when I accosted it with a sausage. Macedonia hint at a nervy final 20 minutes to come with another glaring miss.

4.33pm Facebook friends are doubting my ability to sit through all of this lot today. They don’t know me well. Scotland are actually playing very well now, the goal seems to have freed them of their own nerves. Whitaker and McFadden both go close after weaving runs. Burley sends on Bristol City’s Paul Hartley who, judging by his niggly performance against QPR at Ashton Gate recently, will mix it with the theatrical and cynical Macedonians better than most.

4.37pm. Lights have had to go on for the first time. How depressing, not even 5pm. Winter is here.

4.42. A splendid save to deny Miller one on one goes unrewarded as a goal kick is given. Will that all prove costly with just over ten minutes to play? Beer number three.

4.43 GOAL While I’ve got my head in the fridge James McFadden picks the ball up on halfway, skins three players and the goalkeeper and rolls it into the net as the shout goes up from the living room “HE’S GOING ALL THE WAY!” He certainly is, but are Scotland? It’s all on Wednesday night against Holland now. I’ll be switching over on the third pip of the final whistle as Jim White will be unbearable. Davie Provan is referring to McFadden as world class, which is quite obviously not true.

4.56pm. Full time. Scotland win. As promised it’s straight back to Jeff and the news is not good. Bloody Notts County with all that money held by Burton Albion to ruin my accumulator. Norwich are held at home to ruin the final treble. There’s £20 I shall never see again. Right, what’s next? Oh yeh, another crucial England international friendly.

5pm. Advance warning - I hate ITV. This will be a bitter two hours of text until we can get back to Sky. We have started with live coverage of the inside of Stuart Broad’s nose thanks to a cameraman being a bit too enthusiastic with the zoom. A “revealing interview” with Ashley Cole after (another) break says Steve Ryder – will we finally find out what happened with that mobile phone?

5.11pm. Oh God it hasn’t started well. “I’m a quiet guy, I keep myself to myself” except when you are (according to the News of the World) smacking the arse of blonde hairdressers so hard during sex an imprint of your wedding ring is left on their arse cheek, stopping mid-act only to vomit next to the bed. “People think I’m some flash boy” – no they don’t, people universally think you’re a twat. “He called his book ‘My Defence’” – and nobody bought it.. Good player, complete arsehole. Can’t we just leave it at that? Anyway high time we had another break. That DFS sale is still on would you believe.

5.30pm. Ready for kick off, beer number four in hand. As usual ITV appear to be filming the game on a mobile phone – it’s pixelated to hell on my screen to the extent that it’s hard to tell Gareth Barry from Steven Gerrard. No David Pleat though, mercifully.

5.32pm Rob Green catches a through ball a good few feet outside his area. Nobody seems to care very much about this match so play is waved on and everybody is happy. The Slovenian national anthem is “an inclusive” number preaching peace to all nations according to commentator Peter Drury, so they’re hardly likely to complain about a deliberate handball in a friendly are they?

5.33pm. Emile Heskey is tripped. Normally it’s only three falls before he is injured and has to be replaced.

5.34pm. Heskey is down again, one life to go. Slovenia nearly score at the other end but the angle beats them. Again, nobody seems to care.

5.35pm. Heskey is limping. Lampard runs past Koren and is pulled back deliberately. He does that arrogant shrug and puts on his very best “I’m so hard done to” look as the free kick is taken. Somewhere out there Jamie Redknapp is reaching for the tissues.

5.42pm. Rooney kicks the Slovenian goalkeeper up in the air under a cross. “It’s unnecessary, but that’s Rooney” says co-commentator Andy Townsend (Irish, officially). Quite. More troubling to the keeper is a flock of pigeons that were flapping around his head as he went to catch the ball. They have already been involved in the game more than Gerrard a quarter of an hour in. When Gerrard finally does get on the move the birds are there again, the Liverpool man has to pick his way through them and is eventually glad to take a corner. Don’t get up, I’ll fetch my gun.

5.50pm. Rooney has one off the line, Terry hits the bar from the resulting corner, but Slovenia have been the better team apart from that.

6pm. GOAL. It’s a Lampard penalty, very generously awarded for a foul on Rooney that looked to be the other way if a foul at all. Lampard’s penalty is cool and calm, long may that continue in the inevitable shoot outs next summer. Pigeons still present.

6.05pm Looking at a replay of the penalty there is actually a grown man standing behind the goal praying as it is about to be taken. I mean we have all called for divine intervention at one time or another but in a bloody friendly with Slovenia? Maybe he had his last tenner on Lampard for the first goal – there are no other excuses for such behaviour. I’ve got a feeling he is actually a complete tool.

6.15pm. Half time. Only England in it after the goal, Rooney hit the post from close range. It’s dull to be honest. Fulham’s European games are on ITV4 which I didn’t know – an ad break with a purpose!

6.50pm. GOAL. Jermaine Defoe, great finish, but jeeeeeeeeeez I am finding this one tough going. Paraguay v Bolivia looks a long way off at this point. No sign of King David yet either – whatever will all the flag waving, Pepsi drinking, happy clappy football fans that turn out for England matches do?

6.58pm. Another one off the line from Rooney after great play from Lennon. Utterly, utterly pointless though, the whole event..

7.10pm. GOAL. Well there you go, Slovenia have scored. A neat little header at the near post, England’s defending is like my mood – disinterested and looking forward to better things.

7.16pm. Ashley Cole gets Teddy Sheringham’s man of the match. And I was just about to say I quite like him as a pundit. Bring on the Irish. The big question, apparently, is “Defoe or not Defoe?” Or to put it another way, “striker in lethal form or striker in no form at all?” Capello said beforehand from a jaunty camera angle that he picks players on form and not on reputation. Time to prove it.

7.20pm. It’s over. Thank God. Worst game so far. Three down, four to go.

7.25pm. Well, the Northern Ireland game took some finding. It’s on BBC2 NI which is in amongst the porn and the radio stations on my Sky box. I’m immediately greeted by the sight of Jim Magilton – I can’t get away from him even when QPR are not playing. Acually that’s not true, I was immediately greeted by the ten minute freeview on Television X but a quick realignment of channels brought me to Jim. There are also shots of drunk Northern Ireland fans shaking hands with the riot police in Poland – I wonder if they will be so friendly if those same police officers start bashing them round the head during the match? The Polish police respond with handshakes, but stern faces, calm before a storm and all that. It is a BBC programme so of course we immediately have to find members of the public to find out what they think. God only knows who cares.

7.30pm Anyway, off to Poland and commentators ‘John and Jackie’ who are second only to the plonkers on the gantry at Grimsby Town for their out and out bias. Still, I bet John and Jackie cannot combine descriptions of surroundings with commentary on action in the same sentence in the unique “it’s only a small gantry here at Wigan as Donovan comes forward” way Brian the Grimsby fella does. The referee is Manuel Gonzalez – the most Spanish name in the world. Speaking of Spain, I’m now on San Miguel number eight.

7.35pm. Advertising hoarding of the day so far – Hormann ‘Door of the Year’.

7.37pm. A ‘Polish engineer’ has just tried to steal Jackie’s mobile phone.

7.45pm. Jackie says Worthington has been working “remorselessly” on set pieces. NI have had three very presentable ones in the first 15 minutes and they have all been awful. Jim Magilton says he probably would have left Healy out tonight. Perhaps I should just give up – not this mission today, or QPR, just life in general.

7.50pm We’re only 20 minutes in and already it’s clear that Magilton’s claim that Healy should have been left out is going to be mentioned every time he goes near the ball. As the ‘door of the year’ advert goes around the pitch again Lafferty, in fine form early on, bursts through and drags a shot a foot wide with the keeper beaten. Northern Ireland, dare I say it, look confident and committed. Leo Beenhakker the Polish coach looks like Richard Gough did earlier, only after more drink. Richard Gough you may recall looked like a combination of Bill Nighy and Gillian Tailforth after one of her sausage eating sessions. My mind is unravelling so soon.

7.55pm. Whey hey it’s one of those foreign directors who likes to do quick fire mood shots of five or six players’ faces when there is a break in play. Sammy Clingan looks angry, which would have broken my TV were the screens still made of glass, Kyle Lafferty looks determined, Gareth McAuley looks in love and then it is straight back to the action. Montage-tastic.

8.08pm. GOAL. Make a note of the time, it’s Lafferty for Northern Ireland. Thoroughly deserved, terrific performance from both Lafferty and the team as a whole. Great stuff. Mrs Clive (Northern Irish by parentage) shows excitement for the first time today.

8.10pm. “Put the oven on at 180” I’m told, which prompts loud playing of the darts music and dancing. I am branded an idiot. Harsh.

8.18pm. “I wouldn’t have played Healy or Lafferty” says Jim. Shut up you stupid man!

8.20pm. Another “you won’t make the Brazil game” message on Facebook. Determination increasing. Beer nine.

8.27pm. In reading the scores out at half time whoever the BBC presenter is announces that former Mr Kerry Katona Brian McFadden scored for Scotland earlier today. Never too late for a career change.

8.40pm. The first thing Poland do in the second half is give Lafferty a sound kick and he’s forced off with an ankle injury. Martin Paterson comes on for him, a very different type of player and it remains to be seen what impact that will have on them.

8.52pm. Basically it’s predictable stuff. Poland are forcing corners by the dozen, slinging balls into the NI penalty box from all angles and basically battering them without scoring. At the other end Paterson twice goes through on the goal but fails to really trouble Boruc on either occasion.

9pm The Polish domination continues. Still no goal though.

9.07pm. It is just relentless now. NI haven’t been in the Polish half since I last wrote. They are camped in their own penalty box and relying on last ditch blocks, most of which are coming from Gareth McAuley who I have never seen play this well.

9.08pm. GOAL. Polish equaliser. No surprise. You cannot keep going as NI were doing and not concede. Important not to lose now.

9.14pm. Feels like a million years since the goal, Poland coming forward in droves now. Still four  minutes plus injury time.. Nothing sticking up front. It is what my Grandad used to call “savage amusement”.

9.16pm Boruc spills a poor cross and Northern Ireland nearly score. It’s the first time they’ve been in the Polish half for half an hour. Normal service quickly resumed.

9.19pm. The fourth official has indicated that three ice ages will be added on.

9.21pm. Full time. I’m exhausted and I’m not even Northern Irish.

9.30pm. Beer is now Red Stripe as we move into double figures. Channel is now Sky Sports One. Match is now Peru v Uruguay. No Diego Forlan which leaves only Nolberto Solano as a recognisable figure. The studio pundit is now Trevor Francis – I have photographs of him relaxing in a gentleman’s way back in the day when he played and lived in Italy. Peruvian legend Kevin Gallagher is the co-commentator.

9.45pm. A chance at either end. Solano thrashes wide from a corner, Martinez heads a cross wide for Uruguay. It’s a strange experience as far as football viewing goes. I know almost none of the 22 starting players, I care very little about either country, I only have a vague knowledge of the status of the qualifying group table and yet here I am watching it. It’s the same feeling I get going to pre-season friendlies – I’ll watch it because it is football but I feel strangely detached from it all. A feeling not helped by the commentators being back in a studio in London rather than at the game. It’s not a bad match though, in the time it has taken me to type that load of nonsense Peru have had another very decent effort flash across the face of goal.

9.50pm. The referee is averaging a card every eight minutes which bodes well. South American football stereotypes left right and centre.

9.55pm. Uruguay beat Peru 6-0 in the corresponding fixture and this has been brought up “time and time again” by the Peruvian media in the build up to this game according to commentator Tony Jones, who has mentioned it four times in the first 22 minutes himself.

10.10pm. Tremendous stuff. Uruguayan striker Suarez goes round the goalkeeper, his shot is cleared high off the line and as it lands no fewer than four players all hit the deck feigning injuries trying to win free kicks and penalties. The referee rightly awards a corner.

10.17pm. I think my wisdom tooth is pushing my bottom set forward you know. It was very sore on the way back from Plymouth the other week and on a walk round the living room (advised by Mrs Clive to avoid DVT) I’ve caught sight of myself in a mirror. Trip to the dentist required me thinks.

10.19pm. Half time, 0-0. A bizarre, perplexing, bemusing game really. It’s wide open, like both sides have to win and there are only two minutes left. Great stuff really, very entertaining. Sky are now informing me that Birmingham v Villa, Cardiff v Newcastle and Fulham v Everton are on consecutively next Sunday. Sweet Jesus.

10.45pm. Starting to flag again a bit now. Desperate to stick this thing out having come so far and really want to watch Brazil later. Peru have massive handball penalty appeals waved away. Mrs Clive has fallen by the wayside, muttering something about a day of her life she’s never getting back as she disappears up the stairs.

11pm. GOAL. Oh no it’s not. Confusion all round as a seemingly perfectly good Uruguay goal is disallowed. They have to win this game, while it does not matter to Peru. It seems an offside decision has gone against them. The game is turning violent now as a result and Peru go close twice on the counter attack.

11.10pm What is Spanish for kitchen sink? Fregadero de la cocina apparently. Well Uruguay are throwing the fregadero de la cocina at Peru with no luck.

11.15pm GOAL. It’s for Peru, a well worked corner beats the defence and the offside trap and the goalkeeper. Against the run of play and in favour of the team with nothing to play for. Only four minutes for Uruguay, who won the last meeting 6-0 remember says Tony Jones, to do anything about it.

11.20pm. Rather than do anything about it football wise, Uruguay have decided to instigate a punch up. Peru’s Palacios is clearly stamped on in a tackle and a 22 man melee ensues. Two yellow cards are shown to much hand waving and gesturing, oh and a red as well for Godin for the stamp. Into stoppage time, farce descending. Two games to go. Vargas’ booking apparently means he misses Wednesday night’s trip to Venezuela – I bet he is devastated.

11.25pm. Full time. The Uruguayan coaching staff take their frustration out on some handily placed garden furniture on the touchline. There used to be a nightclub in Scunthorpe called Henry Afrika’s that had garden furniture scattered around the place apropos of nothing. It had a carpet as well – there are not enough carpet clubs around if you ask me. It has had a makeover recently. Which I think is a shame. Red Stripe three which is beer 12 overall.

11.27pm. 40 per cent of men over 40 have suffered some form of erectile dysfunction apparently, according to the latest ad break. Presumably they think if you are up at this time of night watching Paraguay v Bolivia (that’s next) then chances are your sex life is not up to much. They’re right, but it’s not because I can’t!

 

11.39pm. With just under two games still to go I think the conclusion is already pretty certain – yes you can watch seven consecutive football matches, but you really shouldn’t.

11.52pm. Dubious home town refereeing decisions in front of a passionate Paraguayan crowd. No goals yet.

12.06am. I’m looking, I’m seeing, I’m not taking in. The Bolivian goalkeeper Suarez is having a wow of a game, and it’s 0-0. That’s about it. My eyes hurt.

12.16am. Fuck me it’s a penalty. Right on half time. Comical Bolivian defending as one kicks the ball against another. Such is the lack of attacking intent from Bolivia Paraguay have pushed their full backs forward as additional forwards and it’s one of them who is wrestled to the floor in the aftermath. GOAL. Cabanas finally beats the keeper from the spot.

12.33am. I get the impression that Sky presenter Rob Wotton, excellent other than his insistence that every sentence should end with the words ‘shall we’, is aware nobody really gives a shit about Paraguay and Bolivia and anybody watching is merely filling time until the main event. Brazil v Argentina has been trailed more than the last Harry Potter film and all the half time talk is about that rather than the shooting practice session we are witnessing live from Asuncion. It seems as if the Bolivians care as little as the rest of us – what a thoroughly dreadful team they are.

12.40am. Within two minutes of the start of the second half normal service has been resumed. Another farcical goalmouth scramble, another great save, two off the line, Bolivia survive by a gnat’s cock hair again. I’m reminded of the episode of The Simpsons where Homer goes into the ring with Drederick Tatum…

12.46am. Bolivia are bringing striker Dani Pacher on. Unless he is going to stick a pair of gloves on and play as an additional goalkeeper he won’t be seeing much of the ball. “Yet to score a goal in international football” co-commentator Terry Burton informs us. No surprise, Bolivia are yet to get out of their own half this match.

12.48am. Bolivia have decided to make things harder still by conceding a series of daft free kicks around the edge of the penalty box. I’m starting to wonder if this side has even a rudimentary grasp of the game they are playing. Luckily for them Paraguay’s delivery from wide areas is about as good as Brentford’s was six games and 12 hours ago when his ridiculous idea began.

12.50am. Huzzah. A Bolivian corner stirs the Paraguayan goalkeeper from hi previous business of standing by the post reading a paper and he has to punch clear. Then there’s a save to make as well. It is Justo Villar in goal for Paraguay tonight which I shall mention now because, with half an hour still to play, it is by no means certain we shall see him again.

1.25am. It’s over. Thank goodness. That could easily have finished about 12-0. What a miserable, negative outfit Bolivia are apart from their eccentric but brilliant goalkeeper. One to go then, the big one.

1.27am. Having got through an entire day without him he haunts me at the last hurdle – Gary bloody Birtles, no doubt about to give Argentina and Brazil a hefty dose of his self importance and valuable advice. Tevez could and should have scored in the first 45 seconds, a terrific move. I had almost forgotten what decent football looked like after Bolivian nonsense.

1.41am All the pregame talk was about the decline of the Argentina side, from best in the world to eighth in the rankings inside 12 months under Maradona, but they have started this game very much the brighter and have a chance from a 20 yard free kick after a quarter of an hour. Messi smacks it into the wall which Juan Sebastien Veron does not believe was ten yards back. If Clive Tyldesley was here he’d be calling him ‘Seva’ and talking about Man Utd. He’s not, thankfully, otherwise I may have put my head in the oven. While I may not have made it through 15 hours of football without happening upon Gary bloody Birtles I have at least come this far with no sight nor sound of Tyldesley and his encyclopaedic knowledge of a million and one things nobody ever wanted to know about Manchester U-bloody-nited.

1.47am. Brazil actually look wholly uncomfortable here. Lucio is booked for a cynical foul, Kaka gets booked for complaining. In fairness it does seem to be one rule for Mascherano and one rule for everybody else. Bloody Birtles is unhappy too, so we agree on something. The crowd is absolutely jumping in this venue specially selected by Maradona himself for the close proximity of supporters to the pitch.

1.51am GOAL. With so much attacking ability on the field it seems strange that the goal comes from a defender going up for a set piece. With so much attacking intention and positivity in their start to the game it seems even stranger that it is Argentina who have conceded. Luisao heads powerfully into the bottom corner with Brazil’s first serious attack. Maradona looks as if he has snorted a particularly bad line.

1.57am. GOAL Two shots, two goals. More shambolic defending at a free kick leaves several Brazilian players unmarked including Luis Fabiano who taps in after the keeper parried a shot back out to him. Bloody Birtles says they are missing Riquelme’s leadership – he is out of the team after falling out with Maradona. On this evidence it’s a half decent centre back they are most in need of.

2.06am. Tevez has another stolen effort at the near post blocked on the line. Bloody Birtles is doing his usual trick of repeating the same point over and over again. We are now approaching the 20 minute mark in his monologue about the Argentina defence. It’s not good, obviously not, but we do not need telling this often and for this long. We get it! Commentator Kevin Keetings suggests substitute Fabricio Coluccini as a possible solution which sparks hysterical laughter across the North East.

2.09am. Mascherano can be booked it turns out – carded for another foul on Kaka. Brazil go close from the free kick again. Somebody get me a price on a Mascherano red card. Oh, nobody’s up, that’s right, other people have lives.

2.14am. Half time. Keetings says Maradona has serious thinking to do – by the looks of him, crossing himself as he leaves the field, he has some serious drinking to do. I on the other hand have some serious showering to do before these jeans learn to walk and talk by themselves. Upon my return Maradona has sent on Sergio Aguero, his son in law! What are we on now? Beer 14 I think.

2.43am. All Argentina now but Brazil look very comfortable in defence. The crowd remains supportive but Maradona looks like a haunted man. Bloody Birtles never misses a chance to compare the competent Brazilian defending with the circus at the other end that looks like costing the home team this match.

2.53am. Holy shit, GOOOOOOOOOOOAL. Just as I’m saying Brazil do not look troubled and bloody Birtles says they are playing with a swagger Datolo lets rip from fully 30 yards and sends a screamer into the top corner. 25 minutes to go, one goal in it, game on.

2.55am. GOAL. Game off again. Almost straight from the kick off Brazil do their hot knife and butter routine through the Argie defence and Luis Fabiano chips home Kaka’s glorious through ball to kill it all off again at 3-1.

3.16am. Adriano is on, and “back in love with football” according to the commentators. Within a minute he has collapsed to the ground clutching his face with replays showing nobody was within three feet of his head. I’d hate to have seen him when he had fallen out with the game. Two game ban please FIFA. Christ I’m agreeing with bloody Birtles again..

3.23am. It’s all over. For me and possibly Maradona. Just over 15 hours since I first sat down to watch this little lot and the curtain finally comes down on it all. Trevor Francis is incredulous as to how bad Argentina have become, I’m a little bit perturbed that Sky seem to like marooning Francis on these midnight missions when he’s clearly a better pundit than many of their mainstream ones. Ossie Ardiles mutters into his suit jacket, I haven’t understood a word he has said all night but that may be alcohol consumption and sleep deprivation on my part.

Now I don’t want this to turn into an episode of the Waltons where we all say goodnight to each other and talk about the valuable lessons we learned at the end of the day but I suppose I should draw some conclusions of some sort if possible. Firstly it’s worth saying I am writing this at 3pm the following day. I didn’t get up until noon, and the sheer guilt of making my body sit for 15 hours of football drinking beer and eating rubbish on Saturday saw me drag my arse round a ten mile run as soon as I did get up just to try and reduce the feeling of self loathing.

I did not learn anything new during the course of the day I don’t think. Sky’s coverage is easily the best and ITV’s easily the worst in all categories from presentation to picture quality. There is a sale on at DFS, Jim Magilton is often tactically found wanting and Diego Maradona isn’t much of a manager.

Although I did manage to sit through it all I would actually say no, it is not possible to do it. I never thought there would come a time where I did not enjoy a football match I was watching but those last couple of games, even though one was Brazil v Argentina, did my head in. I just longed to read a book, talk to another human being, go outside – something, anything else. In the end I only kept going because people were telling me I wouldn’t. Football coverage is at saturation point and (as if you sane people needed telling this) it’s advisable to pick and choose your games rather than try and watch all of it. Anyway, only four hours until the Masters final starts.