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Smutty Comment #2: "They had paddles in practise, BIG WIDE FLAT PADDLES." Sometimes the commentators write this for me.

They've paused to discuss things again, and I feel I must protest my ignorance is not just because I'm English - I know many, OK, several English fans of your, um, sport - it's more my lack of knowledge of any sport ever. I realised at a young age that a) I just wasn't as fast as everyone else in my class, and b) the chubby little kid huffing and puffing along getting red in the face was as painful for everyone to see as it was for me to suffer, so I just did everyone a favour and stopped trying. HEY REMEMBER HOW I'M GOING TO THE GYM TOMORROW. THAT'LL BE FUN.

They're interviewing someone who's saying 'balls' a lot. Wait, Madonna's performing at half time? Uh... good for her? If I was that famous, I'd hope to have other stuff to do that night, but whatever.

These guys are all wearing VERY tight pants. There, I've said it, I can move on.

There was definite mounting going on in that tackle. Like, "I stopped you running and got the ball from you, NOW YOU ARE MY NEW PONY, THEM'S THE RULES." But then, for all my knowledge of this game, them may indeed be the rules. Can they be the rules? Can I just pretend for the evening?

Oh wait, a dude's injured. Well, I feel like a horrible person now. But then the commentators have gone back to talking about other things, so I guess I get to discuss hypothetical defeat = pony ownership (powneryship?) rules to suggest to next year's committee.

... so I just stepped out to the bathroom and came back to find the commentator saying "There's a lot of good things to look at here" over a shot of all the Giants bent over in the starting line-up, asses to the camera. DAMMIT, COMMENTATORS, I AM TRYING TO NOT GO FOR THE OBVIOUS INNUENDO JOKE, WILL YOU PLEASE STOP.

So, the game continues. They throw the ball, they take two steps, they get tackled ferociously, everyone stops again to pat each other on the back all 'good game, bro, good game'. I'd forgotten how damn long this game takes for anything to happen. The commentators are reading tweets from viewers (that's new) about how knackered they all are as well. So in America, this is the sport of OUR NATION AND FREEDOM AND BEEEEER, in England it's the sport of OH GOD I HAVE WORK IN THE MORNING.

There's an American footballer called Pierre-Paul?? Wow, I am weirdly impressed. I don't even know why. Just... it's so FRENCH. And he ended up here. I don't even know where I'm going with this, all I know is it's past midnight and I'm getting hungry and have next to no food in my fridge. I DO, however, have lots of food from France. Would it be weird to break into a pot of terrine right now?

Oh no, someone has a torn right ACL! ... what's an ACL? ... STILL, SYMPATHY.

I'm definitely getting hungry. This is a potential problem. It's actually distracting. Terrine? Saucisson? Apericubes? THESE ARE NOT NORMAL LATE NIGHT SNACKS.

I am distracted consuming SCHTROUMPFS but John Kerry is being a badass and telling those players what's what again and in my head he's like an American Lestrade. And someone just did a dramatic leap and tumble and it was all quite exciting but nothing actually happened. Oh! But then something did! Good!

I seriously just wrote 'nothing actually happened and then something did'. This liveblog has reached a new low, so let's round off this section and try to get the next one off to a better start.