Famous in Russia (probably)

Amazingly, our story has even made the Russian papers. Here it is in Metro Moscow in an article by Alexey Shunaev.

On looks alone it's pretty much our favourite press coverage, but if anyone knows what it says please let us know. Matt had a valiant crack at translating, but turns out it takes more than 15 minutes to learn Russian.

It's probably about the whole Pohnpei thing, I reckon.

Deep-rooted form issues resurface to waylay NF Board bid

From the very beginning of this project, it has been clear that at some point Pohnpei needs to join the Nouvelle-Federation (N-F) Board.

In the early stages of researching non-FIFA football we discovered this bizarre, yet magnificent Belgian organisation, which is run by Luc Misson (the man responsible for the Bosman Ruling) and helps teams that FIFA won't recognise.

Of the 20 or so teams under this umbrella, some are politically disputed territories, like Tibet, some are regions that have a strong sense of identity, such as Sardinia, some are states constrained by larger federations, like Pohnpei's Micronesian cousins Yap, and some are crazy anomalies created by enterprising nutjobs (Sealand).

Magically, these entities come together to compete in an alternative World Cup, known as the VIVA World Cup - a parallel universe where Lapland can play West Papua and Zanzibar can take on Wallonia.

The idea of signing Pohnpei up to the NF Board as a stepping stone to FIFA had been firmly embedded in our brains from the off and I had hardly returned home before I made email contact with everyone in the organisation, hoping to start the ball rolling.

However, what I didn't take into account was that there would be forms. In fact, an unwelcome orgy of paperwork was lying in wait.

Now, it's not so much that I don't like forms, after all nobody likes forms. It's more that I have some kind of form-related disorder. Whenever I'm faced with forms, I will inevitably go through the following stages:

1. Assured anticipation - I know I'm going to nail this and I want to enjoy every moment, so I'll wait to the best possible time to do them.

2. Crippling perfectionism - Given my initial confidence, before I write any word I need to know it is exactly right. To be safe I write nothing at all but gaze at the white space with a dopey Chris Martin-esque expression. Lots of other menial tasks become very urgent and can be got out of the way while I think.

3. Form Tourette's - The forms have been with me for far too long. They have in some way become more powerful than me. I'm convinced I can hear them chatting to each other in hushed whispers when my back is turned. Finally I unleash all my pent up angst on the stack of paper. Words spew fourth from every orifice in no particular order. Boxes are filled and overfilled. The form is to all intents and purposes ruined.

And that's why it took me six days to write a word on the forms that I believe represent the biggest opportunity in the history of Pohnpei football.

This evening Stage 3 kicked in. At the start of next week an earnest Belgian will be engulfed in a deluge of almost entirely superfluous correspondence. I just hope he still lets us in.

Breakfast TV: Questionable publicity, miserable ordeal

Breakfast TV is, at best, a way to ease the senses into the day and reconcile yourself with the fact that you are up too early. At 6.57am, the whole grim business plays out to a bleary-eyed audience of insomniacs, milkmen and people who are getting flights.

So, you could say that a Sunday morning interview with BBC Breakfast was a bit of a baptism of fire in the TV game. Sharing a 30cm-circumference green room with our fellow guests, who were without exception lovely people, we mentally prepared for the biggest chance to pitch for sponsors at a time when nobody rich or influential enough to sponsor us would be conscious.

The actual interview was fine. Not bad, not great, fine. The silky smooth Charles Musana saw us through the opening jitters, Matt ran a pacy second leg and I brought us home. It probably won't be featured in many 'TV Highlights of the Year' guides come December, but I was delighted to have avoided any of the beginner pitfalls - I was clothed, I didn't fall off my seat and I didn't wet myself.

Three hours later, we would stagger out of Broadcasting House with our seven minutes of fame already fading fast in the memory. From my first TV interview I took away several useful lessons - try not to sign up for anything before 11am, don't expect any glimmer of human emotion from early-morning newsreaders and, most importantly, don't put your BBC visitor pass in your pocket because the pin will stab you in excess of 1,000 times.