AFL finals 2017: An easy guide to cope with a long-suffering Tigers fan this September

 Let’s acknowledge this right up front. Living with a tiger is terrifying. To most of the world that statement would be a no brainer. Like, ‘der.’

But we all know that this tiger, not of the jungle-dwelling feline variety, but of the Punt Road kind, is as bat-crap crazy as they come – particularly when they find themselves still alive in the springtime.

As a general rule, the Punt Road tiger has a short life cycle – it’s a March to August thing – usually marked by hope, then rage, then pitiful acceptance of a September death. Such is life. As another so famously said, ‘sad!’

For those of us living with a tiger this September, there are certain ways to configure your house so that you’re not covered in near life-threatening amount of tiger dribble dripping from every cornice, crevice and crack.

Firstly, in an age where embarking on a successful media blackout for an entire month is about as likely as not encountering a furloughing footballer in Vegas or Kuta in September, there’s no point in even trying to stop the electronic blather. Instead, pile every device – telephone, television, laptop, tablet, radio into one room – preferably a small one with double brick internal walls that is easily hosed out at the end of the month.

Entice the Punt Road tiger into this cell … er … space, with a strand of Kevin Bartlett’s comb-over they bought on eBay for $7000. Once in, shut, lock, bolt and hermetically stopper the door with a plutonium-type sealant. Hey, you were always going to renovate that room anyway.

If this proves impossible and the tiger is still roaming free about the house, see if there is anything that will attract their attention away from their current obsession with painting the toilet yellow and black. I have found recently that my particular tiger is easily distracted whenever you point to bright shiny things in the sky.

This gives you a second or two to remove all the paint and paraphernalia and hoik it over into the neighbour’s backyard. When he asks, ‘Where’s the stuff?’ You blithely reply, ‘What stuff, darling?’ and go about your business leaving him standing there in his Alex Rance undies looking thoroughly perplexed.

Still, some tigers are harder to put off than mine and require a bit more planning and preparation lest they are left to crepe paper the dog and attach Titch Edwards buttons to the postman. If you think this is pushing the hyperbole needle into the red and out the other side of the glass, you’ve never lived with a tiger in September.

Sometimes though, they simply cannot be caged so perhaps the best thing to do to just hide. I have been under the bed in the spare room for three weeks now – still managed to do the school lunches and post my latest manicure on Facebook, but I’m a mother, I roll over and the washing’s folded.

When all else fails go to the bathroom. There’s a reason you’re told to go there when an earthquake strikes – it’s the sturdiest room in the house and also if you have young teenage boys, you know they’ll never go in there for another few years until the desire to Lynx themselves to death becomes too strong.

Only come out when you feel warmth. Genuine warmth. That will probably be mid-January and by then win, lose or come ninth, the tiger may well have settled into a drowsy slumber. Call the builder immediately. You’re going to have to demolish that small room.