I don’t get the appeal of sports, or religion, or anything grape-flavoured.

Or olives. Or peanut butter. Or licorice. Or getting up early. Or beer. Or reality television. Or living in cities. Or cars with inadequate cupholders.

But knock yourself out. I’m sure I like lots of stuff that you don’t. We can still be friends if you like olives, and I wouldn’t dream of trying to tell you what you should or shouldn’t like.

Unless it’s Salvador Dali. He sucks.