So with the world our masculine oyster, we settled down around Big A’s dining table on Saturday night to immerse ourselves in the turn-based WW2 strategy board game ‘Axis and Allies’.

And there I was, implying to you that we’d be going over the top with something wild and dangerous. Toying with your expectations. Like an evil puppetmaster.

This is what my life has become.

Should I be worried that I’ve reached the point where immersing myself in a turn-based WW2 strategy board game is more attractive than drinking and whoring my way around the bright city lights of King’s Lynn?

‘Axis and Allies’ does actually teach you a lot about history. Like for instance how the war must have been so much more fun for the Germans, as they had loads of extra tanks and stuff to play with. And the fact that it was probably a bad idea for the Japanese to annoy the Americans. I may email Simon Schama with my unique insights.

If you include the setting up, the games tend to last longer than the actual war itself did, and by the end Short Tony had lost interest and Narcoleptic Dave had gone to sleep.

This, of course, was preceded by the Grand National. I never have any luck with the Grand National. I believe that last year my jockey set some kind of record by falling off before he even reached the first fence.

Of course the best thing about Grand National day is the atmosphere in the bookies beforehand. There’s always that vibrancy and buzz that comes from a big once-a-year sporting event, that shared sense of occasion. I try to imagine this as I sit alone in front of

And you know the saddest thing about my Saturday? I actually wrote out betting slips for myself, with a felt-tip pen and post-it notes. It was forward planning. I knew then that I could have the small pleasure of tearing them up and throwing them on the floor.

Please. Just kill me now.