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Well, I’m 19 years old and currently taking a gap year from my BA in Journalism course at the University of Llareggub. Mummy and Daddy helped me out with a bit of cash so I could travel through Europe. Well, I headed straight for Switzerland for the skiing and after a couple of months of that it all dried up. I gave Daddy another call but he said I’d be on my own from now on and suggested I get a job. I was mortified.

Thankfully, I met a couple of German chaps who agreed to pay my way on the condition that I’d let them sniff my socks after each day on the piste. I was fine with that, but then they began to insist that I walk up and down on their backs. I tried it once, then they asked if they could get naked and I had enough.

Then I got lucky. I was in a bar one evening with a group of local girls, all very rich but somewhat plain in comparison to myself, if it’s not big-headed to say so, and in walked this older gentleman, flanked on either side by important looking fellows in suits. I’m not ashamed to use my natural resources, so stuck my chest out a bit, tossed my blonde locks from side to side, crossed and uncrossed my slender legs and laughed playfully while the girls blabbed away in whatever language it was they were speaking.

It didn’t take long for the older gentleman to come over and introduce himself. He said his name was Sepp and he offered me a job pretty much on the spot. Apparently his regular PA is currently on maternity leave, and he has requested that for legal reasons I do not discuss this issue with anyone, as the child’s paternity is being dealt with by lawyers.

I’ve not been told how long the post lasts, but Sepp has been very kind to me indeed. While everyone else at FIFA calls him ‘Mr Blatter’ he insists that I call him ‘Uncle Sepp’, though I normally just get away with ‘Sepp’ and sometimes even ‘Joe’ when we’re having a little laugh together.

Anyway, he lets me travel everywhere with him, insisting that I act as his “right hand”. Originally he gave me some minor administrative tasks to carry out, but after a few errors, including one rather awkwardly worded letter I wrote on his behalf to the FAI (some blokes in Ireland), I was relieved of these duties. Apparently my parting comment of “c’est la vie” did not go down too well.

There’s now a rather frumpy lady called Grunhilda who takes care of the work. My main role is just to wear the outfits that Sepp has picked out for me and to talk to the men he meets when touring the world, just before he pisses them off. They never seem to mind quite as much though, when I console them afterwards.

Well that’s enough about me. You’ll probably want to know about the World Cup draw. I wasn’t allowed anywhere near the balls, because they were being guarded very carefully indeed, but it’s amazing how many people they needed to ensure that “the plan worked perfectly”. Derren Brown was involved with the ceremony itself, although they kept him well away from the cameras, which I thought was strange, though he was heavily focused on the overall production.

Sepp told me afterwards that we had “got the result we wanted”, but surely it’s not that difficult to draw balls randomly, is it?

I got to meet David Beckham, which was amazing. I let him sign my chest. This was designed to make Sepp a little jealous, but he was too busy trying to organise a private dinner with Charlize Theron. He was trying to insist that this was common practice before and after the draw, but her agent was having none of it.

He also introduced me to Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who told me that my heels were “very spiky” and he had a glint in his eye. That might have had something to do with the fact that he HAD arranged dinner with Ms Theron.

Overall, it was an exciting day and I didn’t get much sleep afterwards. That’s nothing to do with Sepp though.

There’s not much more to say, so I’ll leave you for now, but when Sepp has his little naps in the afternoon, there’s plenty of time for me to keep you updated, so expect more news from behind the scenes at FIFA soon.

Much love,

Flick.

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