Deborah Ross: Your questions answered by the English Football Widows Association*

World Cup Widow: We miss Sven, or would do if that wasn't a lie. Sven could be boiled down into soap for all we care
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The Independent Football

Dear EFWA,

As a football widow, I do not feel I am getting the sympathetic treatment I deserve. No cards; no kindly looks; no chicken casseroles delivered to my door by supportive friends and family ... how can this be fair?

It isn't fair, and it's not as if you even get to inherit the house, and so have it all to yourself, which would be heavenly. We did think about marching on Downing Street with this one, but without a man to read the map, we figured we'd just get lost. We even asked a man: "If we were to march on Downing Street, without a man to read the map, do you think we would get lost?" "Yes," he said. "Now, clear off." Shall we, we asked, clear off by taking the second exit at the roundabout? "No," he said, "because the second exit will be the wrong exit." This is why we are not marching on Downing Street, and you know what? We're pleased we don't have to worry our pretty little heads about it.

Dear EFWA,

I keep hearing that the World Cup has thus far "failed to live up to expectations". Does this mean it's boring, but no one can face up to it?

For sure or, as Sven would have said: "For shoar..." We miss Sven, or would do if that weren't a lie. Sven could be boiled down into soap for all we care, although we don't think it would be very nice soap. We think Nancy would make better soap, which would also be off-the-shoulder soap, and sequinned, as well as completely loony.

Dear EFWA,

Maybe I've missed something, but since when has the vuvuzela been a "traditional" South African instrument and an important part of their culture? It looks like a giant Christmas cracker kazoo to me.

We're afraid you've got us on this one. But do watch out for the Algerian fans who, at some point, may use those squawking, blow-out thingamabobs you get at children's parties. These, apparently, have been an integral part of Algerian culture since 674 BC, if not earlier (although no earlier than 876 BC, according to the most recent archaeological finds).

Dear EFWA,

How come my husband can lavish all this attention on football yet when it's my birthday, he wraps up the kettle – "how lovely, our kettle!" – and thinks it's a job well done. How might I reverse this situation?

You're onto a hiding to nothing, love, although you could spit in his dinner, if it makes you feel any better. It always makes us feel quite a lot better.

Dear EFWA,

If bees swarmed into the TV room, could I lock the door on my husband, even if he were shouting: "Help, help, I'm being eaten alive!?" I could tell the paramedics I thought it was the vuvuzelas, couldn't I?

Think "kettle". Think "birthday". No need to feel bad. No need to even stop spitting.

Dear EFWA,

Do you think Robert Green has anything to apologise for?

We haven't the faintest idea; not now, and not for all time. Why are you bothering us with this? We're very, very busy avoiding maps, as it is.

Dear EFWA,

Will football always be more important to a man than some stupid girl?

Yes, you stupid girl, now go knit a netball skirt or crochet a toilet roll holder. Poodles look good. You could also do some flower arranging, which is never a waste of time because, at the end of it, you will have some flowers, that are arranged, in a flower arrangement. You can then place this flower arrangement somewhere nice, like in front of the TV, which would also be amusing, but only if the football is on. You don't want to put them there when Location, Location, Location is on, as you might miss yet another picky couple who look at several properties before deciding to leave it for another year. You'd kick yourself if you missed that.

Dear EFWA,

I think your acronym is rubbish.

So do we, but here's the thing: we are much, much too bored to care.

* Twinned with the North Korean Football Widows Association although, as they don't get out much, and don't have much of a clue, we tend to run things round here and eat all the crisps.