My Perfect Sunday, by Sepp Blatter

author avatar by 8 years ago
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My perfect Sunday is one where I’m not arrested.

I like to lie in late reading the papers catching up on the important news of the day, to see if any warrants have been issued or if any of my friends have been taken into custody overnight.

When I get up, I pop to the front door to check the post for large, flat brown paper envelopes and to make sure there aren’t any men in riot helmets with a battering ram just outside. If there aren’t I open the envelopes and take a little private ‘me time’ with the contents. I find it helps me relax.

After breakfast, I might potter about in the garden and do a little digging to pop the envelopes somewhere nice and safe for a rainy day, just in case.

However, it’s not all relaxation. I’m a busy man and I catch up with work emails after lunch. My favourites are ones from the Middle East detailing cash transfers, but no such luck today! Just one from Vladimir Putin suggesting it would be a great idea if there were a world cup in Russia, preferably in the next few weeks. or so.

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I reply asking why he thinks it would be a great idea and he comes straight back to say it’d be a great idea if I want to keep my kidneys, which seems eminently fair and sensible.

My ideal afternoon involves going up to the park to play on the swings, but I’m so busy I rarely get the time! It’s all paperwork  and filing. Paper money is so inconvenient in this modern age, but it has the considerable advantage of untraceability which outweighs the difficulties.

And then the evening. I ask my wife if she’s going to be at home and if she’s not I ring out for a couple of Ukranians instead, as she’ll never know.

If we’re in together it’s an evening in with a bottle of wine and a box set. I’m a big fan of Breaking Bad – something about a man getting involved in a life of crime to fund an otherwise unaffordable lifestyle speaks to me for some reason. Possibly I like how excitingly different it is from my own humdrum existence.

And then bed. One last check of my email, the intruder alarm system and the CCTV before I retire satisfies me that there aren’t any uninvited guests wearing Polizei jackets hanging about in the shrubbery, before I drift off to the sleep which is the just reward of those who have a clear conscience.

God knows how I manage it, but I’m not complaining. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?