“So, the Euros are starting at the end of this week,” states my editor. “Could you do a piece about it?” I stare blankly, like a confused giraffe who’s just been asked to open a bank account. “You do realise that me writing about football is like asking a chicken to explain the concept of gravity?” I retort – realising that I’ve already used two animal comparisons and that I really should get my head examined. Nonetheless, I agree. To be fair, the only times I attempt to give a damn about football are during the Euros and the World Cup, just because I quite enjoy the way people get all riled u…