by Brian Reade, Daily Mirror

"Jesus Christ, I don't believe it," screamed the missus as she walked into the living room on Tuesday night, expecting to watch Holby City, only to find me engrossed in Rhyl v Partizan Belgrade on S4C.

"It's summer. What's THAT doing on?"

"I think you'll find it's a live Champions League game."

"You really are a sad addict," she said pitifully, before zapping over to a scalpel cutting through saggy flesh, which was no real change, as it was more or less what the Partizan attack had been doing.

Besides she was spot-on. I am sadly addicted. To watching Sgorio on the Welsh-speaking channel.

It's nothing to do with the football, just the brilliant contrast between the stream of Welsh words coming from the commentator and his side-kick, and the English ones being chanted on the terraces.

And Rhyl's fans didn't let me down, cutting through words like "dw i ddim yn deall Llandisilliogoch" with chants like "the referee's a w*****."

And "you're s***, aaagggghhh" when the Partizan keeper took a goal-kick.

And I was filled with a warm summer glow, knowing that football is indeed a universal language.