Although I have some telekinetic powers, being able to move objects around the living room (as long as they weigh less than 10kg) and also levitate my own personal body for anything up to four minutes (depending what I have had for dinner), my special gifts do not, sadly, extend to being able to see into the future.
As a result, due to the fact that your favourite Independent column went to press before the outcome of both World Cup semi-finals was clear, I have no clue which two teams will be going at it tomorrow afternoon in the quest to be world champions. I have a feeling it might be Germany and Holland but, as many of you will be aware, my betting record at the tournament thus far stinks like a cow's bum.
This is apparently the same cow's bum, co-incidentally, which Wayne Rooney would struggle to hit with a banjo, if the little pile of torn-up betting slips at my feet proves anything. You may remember I laid a few quids on the King Edward-faced brainbox, hoping he would score three goals against Italy in England's opening game. Had he done so, I would have skipped away with four and a half large. But, as we all now know, taking the Croxteth cro-magnon to Brazil was about as good a decision as building a 58-storey office block out of Birds Eye Potato Waffles. England's players will thus be sat at home in their mock-mock-Tudor palaces tomorrow, watching the game on telly.
If they were so inclined, there are still tickets available for the big game. Ticketbis.net is offering seats in the mythical Maracana in Rio, ranging in price from a bog-standard £4,000 to just over £11,000 for a spot in the stadium's VIP pavilion, where Amazonian jungle cuties will massage your varicose veins while feeding you handfuls of Maltesers.
Selling tickets for a price above that which is stamped on the ticket is technically not especially legal. In fact, it's a bigger grey area than 400 elephants lying on their backs making snow angels. I'll let that image percolate for a while.
As I hinted earlier, while the economic gulf between buying a ticket from a scalper outside a gig and splashing out tens of thousands on a VIP couch for you and your mates might be vast, the moral distance is narrower. You're still paying more than you are supposed to. But it's all about supply and demand. Which brings us to Ray Whelan. The British director of the World Cup's hospitality provider was arrested on Monday as part of a police investigation into £200m worth of ticket-touting at the World Cup. While there is no suggestion he has done anything wrong, if Mr Whelan ever needs me to get him out of chokey, I would be delighted to teleport him back to freedom, for the low, low price of one Arsenal season ticket. I don't even need the massage extras…