Did any other guys out there have the same conversation with the missus? Along the lines of: "I know I said it was the end of the football season, but that was the league and this is the Champions League." Bet you haven't even told her about Euro 2012 yet, have you? Yes, I know loads of women are into football, but there are loads who aren't as well. Including the one glaring murderously at me.

This is it then, UEFA Champions League Final: Bayern Munich v Chelsea (ITV1). ITV means it's Adrian Chiles in charge at Munich's Allianz Arena: "a cathedral to football," he calls it. (Later, commentator Clive Tyldesley describes it as "a spaceship of a stadium", which is better.)

There's some time before kick-off – to be filled with the usual rousing montages, a comedic graphic animation of the Abramovich years, the Roberto Di Matteo story, some words on The Drog, interviews with Lamps and Robben etc.

There's time for Adrian Chiles to be Adrian Chiles, too. He doesn't like national stereotypes, he says, but the German fans are "terribly organised. They support, they chant, with quite Teutonic efficiency." He finds a couple of Chelsea supporters, slumped and snoring in their seats after one too many strong continental lagers; that's John Terry interviewing Fabio Capello for the job of next Chelsea manager; there's a little feature on ear-flicking. Watching Adrian Chiles is a bit like having a comedy uncle or mate on the sofa with you at home.

He's got his pundits with him – Gianfranco Zola and Roy Keane, neither of whom really has the English for the job. And Gareth Southgate, who's just a bit dull. What does Gareth think Chelsea have to do? "They've got to perform to their very best …" Yeah, blah, shut up already. Right, the teams are coming out, time for a football match.

It's an intriguing rather than an eventful first half. Tyldesley has time to tell us that although no Spanish clubs made it to the final, the Spanish weather did. Scorchio, in other words. "One or two Chelsea fans may be coming back a different shade of pink from when they left," he says. He also says, of Bayern coach Jupp Heynckes, that "his face famously turns red" under pressure. It's quite refreshing to have a commentator who's so complexion-aware. Andy Townsend, alongside Clive, says that while Jerome Boateng was at Manchester City, "he didn't pull up any trees for me". I doubt Jerome even knew he was supposed to.

There are clearly two main talking points in the first half. Which makes it such a travesty that neither of them is talked about at half-time. Well, you could argue that the lady caught on camera picking her nose wouldn't expect to be zoomed in on, then beamed to hundreds of millions of people the world over, so it might be unfair to dwell on that. But what about the spider? The giant tarantula on the back of Salomon Kalou's head, of course. It's like they're messing with my head, pretending it's not there. You saw it, didn't you?

To be fair, there is a little feature on Abramovich's squirming that is quite fun. But there's also Roy saying "listen" a lot and "you've got to hit the target". And Gianfranco saying Chelsea need to be "more cynical in front to goal". Cynical? Surely he means clinical? No, cynical, he insists. And Gareth boring on about who knows what … shut up, Gareth. If I wanted serious analysis, I'd go to Sky.

Actually I do, so I do – dip in to Live UEFA Champions League Final (Sky Sports 1). Generally better, I think. It has a higher level of punditry from Ruud Gullit, Jamie Redknapp and Graeme Souness, and from the excellent Gary Neville helping Martin Tyler out with the commentary. Plus solid anchoring, with a twinkle, from Jeff Stelling – I'm a big fan of Jeff Stelling.

But maybe you don't like to line Murdoch's pockets (you won't need to for the Euros). I'm a big fan of Adrian Chiles too – because he adds humour to a game. National stereotypes. squirming, drunks, etc. They just need to sort the pundits out. I see Patrick Vieira will be joining them in Poland and Ukraine. What, with Roy Keane? Is that safe?

Anyway, after the break it didn't really matter whose coverage you were watching, because it all got so extraordinary. Bloo-dy hell. Football's the greatest drama, isn't it? And now there isn't any … well, not for two and a half weeks!

"What's starting in two and a half weeks?" comes a voice from next door. Nothing dear, the strawberry season, if this weather picks up a bit.