For the last half a mile all I’ve heard is my dads voice. For someone that says he “doesn’t care about football” he’s managed to go through the entire Chelsea squad telling me whether the club should keep or sell the player.

“And then sterling, I mean what a useless muppet he is -“

Ah, we’re still on football. Cool.

“- passes when he should shoot, shoots when he should pass.”

Don’t get me wrong, I like football, I like having a conversation about football but the difference between me and my dad is that if Chelsea lose I tend to get on with the rest of my life whereas he becomes consumed by it. I get it, to an extent, people who don’t like sports don’t at all but if you are a fan of any sport you are emotionally connected to you team. I am. But when you have zero control over something it’s seems mental to let it ruin your entire life.

“I remember back in 1970 when we had Osgood -“

Here we go. An entire history lesson on Chelsea now. I wouldn’t mind but I barely spend any time with my dad and when we do it’s all he talks about. Football this, football that. Never asks about me, or my life. How I am, what I’m up to, if work is ok.

I wouldn’t mind but it makes me feel unwanted sometimes. It makes me feel like I’m not good enough. I’m not asking for the world but it would be nice to know my dad actually cared for me and what I’m doing.

“Anyway I’m waffling. How’s things with you?”

Ah bollocks I didn’t actually want him to talk to me about my life. Shit. I take it back.

“Yeah fine.”

“Work ok?”

“Yep”

“Running going well?”

“Uh huh.”

“Only your mum seems to think you’ve been pretty down recently?”

“Nah I’m fine.”

“Well listen if you want my advice, you need to go out there and get laid -“

Oh Jesus Christ no.

“- get out there, meet a girl and just shag it all out.”

“…”

“…”

“…so, do you reckon we’ll get top four this season?”