In the December rain there are few things that give me pleasure.

One of them is slipping into a hot bath with a newspaper, another is recalling all the subjects that I feel need to be put to right. The Afghan situation of course, but also the Bellottis and Archers, the various shopping centres, the Palaces, the Man Us, the Barry Hearns and, heck, even the Scallywag who made a lot of money out of our Gillingham exile. Silly but warming.

However, after England's dire draw in Japan, I decided that because it's the season of goodwill I would change my tilt and try and see good in surprising places.

Manchester United. That's unexpectedly easy. When we were a bullied club - see above - Alex Ferguson responded to a request from an Albion supporter by writing a personal and time-consuming letter of support. It was very long. He was interested and informed. (Gordon Strachan, incidentally, refused to get involved.) So I like Alex Ferguson.

And Becks too. I was recently on a photo shoot with Victoria, a fact I mention not by way of idle name-dropping but to report that her husband was there too and agreed to sign my piece of paper for a BHA raffle. He knew what had happened to us and was genuinely interested.

His agent subsequently whipped the paper away so fast it nearly paper-cutted my nose but be in no doubt, David Beckham is a good guy.

And then there is Palace. The way their chairman handled Steve Bruce's resignation cost his club a lot of money and was ultimately futile but as gestures go it was fabulous. Every football club that has ever been intimidated by a bigger one should be grateful. For this reason I intend in future to stay seated even when the South Stand choral society tell me to do otherwise.

A few miles east, Barry Hearn sounded quite good in his recent arguments for lower league clubs and may after all not be the banker we all claim he is (it's a nice song though).

And talking of people from dodgy parts of London, three cheers for sarf Londoner Danny Baker for promising to support his unfashionable football club until he dies. The fact that the team in question is Millwall might mean that he won't have to wait very long, but his passion is laudable and real. And wasn't it Millwall that agreed to take us in as lodgers in 1997? Their supporters might not care, but I rather like them.

Gillingham are harder to be nice about but here I am helped by the memory of a carpark attendant at the Priestfield.

He was a bit scruffy and always seemed in need of a shave but love for his club filled his soul.

It was the main thing in what might have been a small life but he still had room for kind words about the tribes of legal immigrants who invaded his patch every other Saturday. I couldn't reciprocate then but it's easier now.

Unfortunately there are some things I can never change my mind about and of these, the greatest is David Bellotti, star interviewee of this month's FourFourTwo magazine and splendidly dealt with by Ian Hart last week.

Do I feel sad for Bellotti? A little. He's always going to be around him and that can't be very nice. But forgiveness? Purleeeease!

Threaten to take away all my future Christmasses if you must but my yuletide log will always be under a great big bonfire with Bellotti on the top, where the fairy should be.