THIS is worrying. My wife, rather pointedly I thought, remarked that the World Cup is one of the busiest times of the year for divorce lawyers.

Along with, she tells me, holidays – when couples suddenly realise that their partners are numpties to live with – and Christmas, when, my wife observed, the division of male/female labour is usually grimly unbalanced.

I appreciate that, I told her, showing I can be understanding. And I’m more than willing for you to prod yourself awake on Christmas morning and tell yourself to ‘get up and put the turkey in the oven’ if you think that will make the work balance more equal.

That went down like a lead balloon before the England match. Particularly as we’re vegetarians.

Anyway, the question is, if your partner’s lip curls with disdain at the mere mention of football, how can you make them join in and enjoy the thrill of the World Cup experience rather than risk growing apart?

Tricky. Put on your Marj Proops thinking boots. First, you have to make them realise that your armchair contribution to England’s performance is extremely important to the nation. Say it would be selfish not to support the team. And it might help if they did their bit, too.

Even if, as in my case, they happen to be Scottish.

Next step is to say it’s about wanting to do things together.

Then focus on their first love. (No, not you, idiot.) Their favourite pastime. If they were hooked on watching Lost tell them this is a chance to Win.

If it’s Sex and the City, tell them that football can fulfil the City bit many times over. Point out that England’s Gareth Barry plays for Manchester City. If they ask about the Sex bit, it could be delicate. You could try mentioning Bristols though that City hasn’t any players in the England squad.) If, like my wife, they would rather read classic literature or watch a repeat of Pride and Prejudice on telly, you must be even cannier. Point out the pride in wearing the three lions on the shirt... and the prejudice against certain rival footballing nations.

You must make them appreciate that the World Cup has much in common with classic literature. Tell them that it’s about emotion. (That usually goes down well.) A match is like the interaction of characters in a Jane Austen novel... but merely taking place on a pitch not in a book.

Secondly, tell them it’s about heartache and elation.

Take, for example, the tension should England be in a penalty shoot-out.

Why, joy or despair hangs on one single kick. Do you look or turn away? Oh, the pathos!

Those of us in armchairs, as well as the more energetic fans who have nobly made the effort to get down to the pub, experience all the pressure and emotion of the matchmaker. (Or matchwatcher, at least.) Rather like in Jane Austen’s Emma.

What makes the World Cup so exciting is the knowledge that you may be about to study a living masterpiece. Not just read one in some dusty tome.

Why, just think of football as a costume drama with interconnections every bit as complicated as those of the characters in Middlemarch. Think of the uninspiring opposing striker as the odious Mr Casaubon.

And, as Graham Norton might say, could John Terry be Dorothea?

Let’s not dwell on that thought. He wouldn’t be over the moon. Or the rainbow.

Instead, just be attentive to your partner’s needs.

Fetch two lagers, not one, from the fridge and ask your loved one to lob that piece of paper with the divorce lawyer’s phone number into the bin. As if it were a Lampard pinpoint free kick.

Then, at half time, turn from the telly and stare, adoringly, into your partner’s eyes and say something truly meaningful to match the moonlit moment.

Like: “Roooooney!” in a voice reminiscent of a bull with its testicles entangled in barbed wire.

Hopefully, your partner responds in similar romantic fashion.