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I'm sure technology is advanced enough for us to have a set of gallows erupt from the turf so that we can hang an aged radio dj for their crimes by association at half time. A brief pelting from lucky audience members handed tomatoes and turnips and SNAP, down goes Bruno Brookes.

A pre-match llama rodeo through the more wintry months with the loser of the bruising camelid pack shaved and sliced for pastry filling and after defeat a dwarf speed-dating night that we can either decide to attend or simply watch the little-body-lipsmackingness of romantic affairs. I'd also...