If you, like us, have said to yourself the following: Olympics is over, what's the point in carrying on any further... well, the answer is the return of the Premier League. Thank god (Richard Masters) (PL CEO).
The Prem's arrival into our lives has snuck up on us after the Euros and the Olympics firmly grasped our attention for a heady sevenish weeks, like your humble local bar that knows its firm, immovable placing within our hearts, that sees us return, year after year, to sample the beauty and simple elegance that is held within. The passage of time and all its crimes. You may ask, hmm, does one season blend into the next? Is the product that the Premier League keeps pumping out, football morning, noon and f**cking night, thank you very much, attracting less and less interest as it becomes even more detached from our already completely broken and bonkers reality, with soaring transfer and wage budgets, extremely corporate overtures that turn Arsenal into the Fly Emirates Visit Rwanda Sobha Realty Football Club (not just an Arsenal problem, of course) and over-priced tickets and merchandise that push away fans (see this week's bastard of the week for more)? Who knows.
Brentford vs Palace is the 2pm kick off on Sunday? Well, I have to watch that.
We also talk about the Rugby Championships - why is Joe Schmidt's Australia so bad? Perhaps South Africa is simply the best team in the world. But we're pretty good at the Olympics.