So he finishes work at 10pm and insists he is gonna camp in the staff room until midnight and then taxi it home, I’m not great with the idea so volunteer to run him for it, the store is only 2 mins away.

So I go to bed, fall half asleep when I’m awaken like its christmas to get up and take him to get his bloody footie game. I argued he could probably wait till morning but he insists he can’t.

So I get up, tired, now cold and in my pjs. We get to asda and I’m gobsmacked, about 50 people are already queueing and there’s more teenage boys, men in suits, men dragging wives and girlfriends wearing slippers and pjs and butch ladies piling into asda.

Its 11:50pm and a sad looking bloke walks out with his girlfriend, a bag of shopping was all he was clutching and I hear him give one last plee as they get back into the car.

12 midnight and the sad looking bloke is back, looking less sad and sans girlfriend, I hope he dropped her home and not into a nearby canal.

There’s a few grown men wearing full football kits emerging from the doors, game in hand, but the queue inside is now huge.

Then out walks my husband, huge smug smile on his face, with the game and a pressie for me in a bag. The eagle eyes in the queue are baffled as to how he has the game and throw him a dirty look. But out he pops, even managing a ‘look what I got’ to some friends in the waiting line.

And for my amazing wifeness…