Poor Coleen! The recent newspaper allegations about her shaven monkey of a husband must have been very upsetting. Still, I am sure her good friend John Terry will be more than happy to offer her a shoulder to cry on.

I spent the majority of the final day of my week off tidying up my flat.

Last night I saw another spider – the fourth in three weeks. I have now moved all piles of CDs, DVDs and a subwoofer into a cupboard. The living room is now clutter-free, with no hiding places. It also looks like an Ikea show room.

This is just the latest step I have undertaken on the war in terror on spiders.

The England National Football Team played last night. With the World Cup debacle still fresh in my memory, I simply didn’t care.

Prior to the World Cup, I may have actually gone to the match – a Friday night fixture (therefore, not clashing with any Bath City games), the nice weather and the fact I was off work – this would normally be an ideal opportunity to attend Wembley. Nowadays, turning on the TV was an effort in itself.

I will never forget the 2010 World Cup performances and it’s going to take many years for me to forgive. I can’t believe so many England supporting mugs turned up at Wembley last night – over 73,000 of them!

As the goals were scored, I glared on, like a bitter ex-boyfriend, watching his former partner kissing a new lover. I was even hoping for Bulgaria to nick a goal. At least had the Bulgarians won the game, Fabio Crapello (the name, which I predicted and copyrighted way back in 2007) would have moved closer to getting the sack.

As we all know now, England won the game 4-0. Everyone was happy. Not me. I wouldn’t have been happy had England won 20-0. I know we’ll be let down again. Taking England back into my heart is like Cheryl Cole giving Ashley one more chance. You just know it’ll end in further heartache.

Can England ever win me back? Of course! Get rid of Crapello, permanently drop the vast majority of the losers from the World Cup squad and sack the FA board. Is that going to happen? No. Fuck you England, then.

It’s always at this time of year that I get excited about the release of the football game, Fifa. This year is no different, with the annual instalment set for release on the 1st October. On Wednesday, I pre-ordered a copy.

Upon ordering, the nice man in the shop gave me a card containing a code, allowing me access to the Creation Centre on the Fifa 11 website.

While in the Creation Centre, you can create an entire team, including players, ahead of the game’s actual release.

These last two days, I have been building the Bath City team, including all their players, all ready to be imported into Fifa, upon it’s release.

I may have been ever so slightly biased with the skill ratings, but I think that’ll be fully justified when I beat an American kid, playing as Manchester United, with my own Bath City team – Jim Rollo scoring the winning goal with a thunderous volley.

While in town with Claire on Wednesday, I bought an egg maker.

No, not a hen. I should have been more clear.

I purchased a boiled egg maker. You need to provide your own egg. This thing just cooks it.

I was happy to spot such a contraption while shopping, although slightly disappointed. Disappointed because, before actually spotting it in the shops, I invented the same thing! Although my idea involved leaving an egg in a kettle and somehow making it safe.

I was planning on drawing up the blueprints, getting on Dragon’s Den and setting myself up for life.

Oh well… no money for me, just lots of boiled eggs.

I am now in possession of an iPhone 4. Having been an O2 customer for more than 18 months now, I was due an upgrade to my 3G and the thought of the new handset was too appealing!

The iPhone 4 has received a lot of criticism, mainly from jealous Blackberry and HTC owners, who claim that if you hold the handset incorrectly, you are disconnected from your telephone call.

I have tried holding my handset in all the possible ways it can be held with a standard human hand and have to say, I have no idea how the signal can be lost. What on earth are people doing to cause it to drop the signal? Clenching it in their primitive fist like a caveman, until the internal antenna is physically crushed?

The people that can’t use an iPhone 4, are probably the same imbeciles incapable of working a computer keyboard and can only type with their fist, like this – fvggffcbggbbgbn   vggffgffdfggfty66uyuhyjuj bnbn hbhhghgg. Pretty stupid, don’t you think.

The iPhone 4 is a great handset and a fabulous upgrade. Just don’t get one if you talk in grunts, live in a cave or are married to a red haired woman called Wilma.

It was two football games in three days for Bath City last weekend. We travelled up to Forest Green Rovers on the Saturday where a dull 0-0 draw unfolded. The highlight of the afternoon being a policeman having his helmet knocked off by a wayward ball. My chips with curry sauce and a pint of Stowford Press cider were very nice though.

Monday saw the visit of Wrexham. We lost 2-0. Cue masses of moaning Bath City supporters. I don’t really know what they expected. We have only just been promoted, are a part time team and have played 6 tough games in 16 days. Wrexham are full time and have built a squad capable of competing for promotion. It certanly was a wake up call, though.

This weekend we play Barrow – a team so far north, it is practically Scotland. Forget that, they’re basically living at the North Pole. Apparently Barrow aren’t as good as Wrexham – probably because they all live in igloos and eat seals. Hopefully we’ll win that one. If not, a lot of Bath-based cats are going to get kicked by their owners.

After a busy few months at work, I now have a much welcomed week off.

A visit to Nandos with friends tonight followed by a Bath City away game tomorrow with Claire seems a great way to start my break.

What’s wrong with this country? A woman puts a cat in the bin, receives death threats and the media continues to print her personal details. Yet convicted sex offenders receive anonymity.

Following last nights visit to the ground, I have conducted a list…

- Their stewards don’t let you take cameras into the stadium. Get a grip! It’s a non-league football ground, not Area 51! Let the fans take photos of each other enjoying themselves. As I’m a rebel, I ignored the stewards’ request and took photos anyway… at fulltime, when I was leaving anyway. I’m such a bad ass.

- Their manager, a rather large Steve Evans, spent the whole match pacing up and down the touchline, shouting abuse at the Bath City players, his own players, the referee and just about anything else that holds an existence on the planet. His bad manners and girth were so great, they made Sam Allardyce look like Ghandi.

- I’ve seen a lot of embarrassing half time pleas for support at football games. Delia Smith’s infamous rant in 2005 being one of these. I also remember someone grabbing the microphone at Truro City and singing Eye of the Tiger during the break. Last night, Crawley’s tannoy bloke surpassed all of these on the cringeworthy-scale. At half time, with the home side winning 2-0, a booming south east accent came thundering through the speakers. “THERE’S AN OLD MAN THAT LIVES BEHIND THE STADIUM AND HAS MADE A COMPLAINT!” the Bath City fans stared at each other, stunned “HE SAYS THERES TOO MUCH NOISE GOING ON AND WE NEED TO QUIETEN DOWN!” at this point, even the Crawley fans were embarrassed. “SO LET’S MAKE THE OLD GIT EVEN MORE ANNOYED AND MAKE SOME NOOOOISSSSEEEE!” I was embarrassed for them.

- Crawley Town seem to have found a lot of pennies somewhere underneath the sofa and have been spending lots of money on new players. Never has a song “went for the money” been more appropriate *. One of the non-league prima donnas, Sergio Torres, acted like a typical overpaid footballer and dived for a penalty. Cheat. The game ended 2-1. Had the stolen penalty not been awarded, Bath City would have drawn the match.

* Fair play to their goalkeeper, though. When asked by the travelling Bath City supporters how much he was being paid, he replied, grinning, “a lot!”

- The journey home. OK, not exactly the fault of Crawley Town Football Club, but as we’re having a moan, I may as well blame them for this too. As we came into Bath at 00:40, police stopped the coach. London Road had been closed following an accident and we had to take a huge diversion to Lansdown. I was not in my bed until 1.30am. Never was I more pleased that I had taken today off work as annual leave.

There are other reasons to dislike the club, but it is past my bedtime and unfortunately I have work in the morning. To find out the other 96 reasons, visit the football club yourself. However, I will not be held responsible for any emotional distress or loss of life caused during your visit. Oh, and don’t bring your camera… unless you’re proper hardcore, like me.