Mr Tabubil's office is running a pool for how many points Chile is going to win by in the Chile Australia game today. The posted options run from 6 to eleventy-billion.
Mr Tabubil has thrown in in a wild-card vote for Australia to win by one goal. There was much derision, but, he told me smugly, his strategy is sound.
"If a miracle happens" he said, "and Australia wins, I don't have to share the pot, and when Australia doesn't win*, I gets points for being a Real Sensitive Guy who's sticking by his wife's country no matter what." He paused for me to appreciate his brilliance."It's even better than roses, Tabubilgirl. Happy Birthday."
I squawked, and he sighed. "I was going to take you out for dinner, but if we could even find a restaurant with a functioning kitchen tonight, anyone silly enough to eat food cooked while the game's on deserves exactly what they pay for. I figured we'd stay in, put some smooth music on the stereo, open a box of chocolates, and listen to the reverberations of a whole nation screaming Goooooooooooooooool!
*And if Australia does pull out a hat trick and win the game, I knew they had it in them, and I knew it all the time, and no-one, but No-one, is a bigger patriot than me. Seriously, Australia, give it your all. Or my birthday night is going to be less romance, and all sniggering.