I wonder how many of you tune in during the wee small hours to sample that brief samba through the lower leagues that is Nationwide League Highlights on YTV?

Not only does this give us the opportunity to be very smug indeed about how much better we are than the vast majority of Div 1 outfits (would we like to try it though? Nooooo!), it also presents us with a chance to gulp in lungfulls of the delicious air of Division Two and best of all three.

Eying the strange shirts and hideous hairstyles of Div 3 is a bit like catching your parents snogging on the settee. You always knew it happened and there is nothing unusual in it, but deep down you really feel you shouldn’t have seen it and the memory of it leaves you squirming with embarrassment for days afterwards.

But the thing is (and hopefully this is where the kissing kin-folks analogy falls away) you find yourself back there the following week for another look.

So now, there are three key elements to the old Nationwide goal-fest that breaks onto our screens late enough to mingle with deep meaningful films from Surinam and those adverts for phone chat lines that cost a mere £7.58 a minute.

First off, the commentaries. A worrying number of these games seem to have been blessed with their very own commentator. “Hull versus Hartlepool, and Brian Battery was watching this one for us....” You still don’t see much more than goals, but why the addition of a proper ‘pretend he was there on the day’ voiceover? Is it part of some country-wide talent spot to find a replacement for Brian Moore (Stars in their Sheepskins perhaps)?

Secondly, the shirts. Time was when Premiership clubs had all the weird and whacky designs, and those cerise and grey away numbers (oh yes). But now while the bigger lads have slipped back towards simplicity, the Nationwide Nobblers are sky high on LSD (Lunatic Shirt Designs).

There’s checks, there’s swirls, there’s green with chocolate stripes and chocolate with green stripes. I’m sure I’m not dreaming when Wednesday dipped a toe (well more of a shin and kneecap really) in the waters of the lower leagues you could have any away strip you wanted so long as it was plain yellow.

But best of all and what keeps me awake at night even after half a pail of Old Gruntfuttock, is the crowds. Or more specifically the away crowds. Now with the odd Wimbledon shaped exception, you know where you are in the Premiership. No matter how bad things get for Wednesday there will always be the 1000 to 1500 diehard, go-anywhere crew there. Even in the second with home crowds less than 10,000 there was always a loyal away following.

But what about when Brighton go to Carlisle, Hartlepool hit Southend, or anyone at all goes to Torquay? It’s become a bit of an obsession to be honest. I hardly notice the mechanics of away goals at all ‘cos I’m straining my eyes scanning the crowd to see how many go up for it. “Stroll on” you mutter “That many from Macclesfield at Wycombe”. And despite yourself, you’re impressed.

And you can surely only admire those unhappy bands whose club are teetering on the very edge of league extinction yet are still there, trailing the length of the country to flick V’s at some lank haired opposition forward nudging them even closer to the precipice. And the less there are the more you burn with adoration. You almost, but only ever almost wish you were them.

So now you know what I get up to late at night. But at least remember this – the next time you boo at Boothy, natter at Newsome or hiss at Humphries, take a late night squint at the Nationwide and take your blessings out of the cupboard an count them.