The Sunday Papers

Sundays are for sitting by a window in your pants eating cold pasta, as a game of football meanders through its grassy paces on a screen not too far away.

The short version

• Light curtains drawn in an attempt to eliminate any chance for people in the street below to catch a glimpse of your boxers, time slows to a crawl.
• You're never not moving, but at least in this moment you're being afforded that chance to move slowly.
• Life never stops, but it does at least occasionally allow the odd evening in cruise control.

Key context

You're snapped out of your trance by a flurry of activity on the screen.

What to watch

One team flap around voicing their unhappiness.