Among the many fruitless jobs in life, one of the worst must be stretcher bearer at a football game.
How many times have we seen one of the overpaid Prima Donnas - I mean professional footballers throw themselves to the ground and writhe around as if they have been shot? Every time the stalwart, reliable stretcher bearers stand up, ready to run on when needed.
And should the wounded hero on the pitch stay prone for more than five seconds, then the stretcher bearers run on in their high viz coats, ready to carry off the mortally wounded player.
And then what happens? the moment the stretcher is laid on the pitch next to the injured player, he makes a recovery that Lazarus would be proud of. So the poor stretcher bearers have to then trudge back off the pitch amid heckles of derision from the crowd. And this happens week in, week out up and down the country.
If I was a stretcher bearer, I'd be getting really hacked off. So much so, that one day as I see the £150,000 a week superstar rise up from his apparent career ending injury, I might kick him in the head, and then put him on the stretcher, and carry him off.
You mark my words - it'll happen one day.