As you will all know by now, Grundi loves his sport.
I drive Mrs Grundi crazy with the amount of football, cricket, boxing and tennis I watch.
On Monday I took an executive decision and decided to sit in my underwear all day watching “Transfer Deadline Day”.
For those of you who don’t know, this is where football clubs attempt to buy each others players for vast of amounts of cash in a late bid to turn around their fortunes.
So whilst all my hundreds of pals were texting me to find out what was happening whilst they were at work, there I was slouched on my sofa raising a glass of Moet to myself whilst Mrs Grundi waited on me hand and foot.
I have to admit, this transfer window was a complete bore fest and at one point I even contemplated going for a walk around Worksop town centre - but then I remembered that Mondays are bad enough without having to endure them louts.
In total, £175million was spent on players during the window - hardly worth getting out of bed for if you ask me.
As Mrs Grundi poured me another glass of champagne and massaged by shoulders, I couldn’t help but think what I would like to “transfer” out of Worksop.
Even for someone like myself, who has the most perfect head of hair, there are far too many hairdressers and barbers in this town.
From what I’ve seen, the people of Worksop take more pride in their socks than they do their hair.
I think the Guardian should end this debate once and for all run and run poll on their website: “How hairy is Worksop?” I for one can’t wait see the Facebook comments on that one.
And what about those heartless souls trying to sell Broadband to the elderly as they do their shopping? Why can’t they go down a dark hole and leave us alone?
Shoe them to Retford...