I stopped watching the match at half time because (a) Ariata scored, (b) it was becoming a very nasty business indeed, and (c) the commentators were making me unwell.
So I started watching Norwich v Watford on Pick, only to realise that (a) the only difference between bottom end Premier League and top end Championship football is no difference at all, and (b) I'm definitely watching/listening to too much football.
If I were forced to talk about the Forest match, I would say that the home side began well, with some neat interplay, and with Sow and Watson leading the midfield bully brigade. Sadly, it was also noticeable that (a) we weren't doing much up front, what with Grabban having one of his "he pushed me ref" days, and (b) the Cottage People were turning niggly because some provincial oiks were invading their personal space. The Forest players got it into their heads that the ref was being unduly influenced by the Cottage People's childish antics, but of course they were badly mistaken.
In first half extra time, Ariata fluked a chance with some help from a hand ball, and cracked home a belter. His celebration reminded me of the time a bare-footed drunkard was chased by the police down Bridge Street in Worksop.
It was at this point that I turned off because (a) I couldn't see Forest scoring, (b) I didn't want to be sick, and (c) I'm turning into a nervous wreck.
I kept checking back during the Norwich/Watford entertainment, but our match seemed locked in suspended frustration.
So we lost. There were compensations, however, in that (a) the Cottage People were no better than us, and it took a stroke of flucke* to separate the two sides, and (b) Caerdydd lost, which for no particular reason is consoling, and (c) I finished the night watching "Murder On The Orient Express", which, in these days of morbid insecurity, was reassuringly the same as it has always been.
* this is now a word