The things I hate about the beautiful game

AND so the long league season in Blighty is almost all over bar the shouting, screaming and wailing as the final day relegation/promotion battles take centre stage.

Any minute now your television screen will fill up – as, no doubt, will you – with the poignant image of a red-faced young ‘un, bottom lip quivering as he weeps copious salt tears into his pristine club shirt.

But, hey, that’s enough about Ronaldo, whose brand of pouty petulance rather detracted from his ability to score miraculous goals, and is one of those things we’d rather hope not to have to endure again in 2009/10.