OK, that's it. I apologized yesterday because everyone was freaking out and making me wonder if I really did kick you, but now I'm taking it back.

First of all, I did actually kick the ball a.k.a. the inanimate object you developed an emotional attachment to and then tried to hump. So that bit where you held your ribs and winced and called for the ref to alert him to your internal bleeding and death throes after I popped it out from your perverse assault looked about as stupid as your face.

Secondly, let's clear up a matter of semantics. Everyone keeps calling you a ball "boy," yet you're 17. I have brothers younger than you. And I promise you I have done far, far worse things to them without our parents even looking up from their waffles (which we eat all the time because we're Belgian). So, you're not a boy -- when I was 17, I was playing first-team football in Ligue 1 -- but you're obviously not an adult either. Let's just call you a "ball bag," since you clearly wanted that ball inside you, and leave it at that.

Third, I saw your Twitter account. Yes, the one featuring a picture of you drinking Strongbow, a bio where you describe yourself as a "LAD" and tweets from before the match about how you were "needed for time wasting." Why would a ball boy be so keen on wasting time? Because your name is Charlie Morgan and your father, hotelier Martin Morgan, is Swansea's top shareholder. If I get a ban for kicking your love toy away, then your family should get a ban for whatever they call making your son a ball boy so he can help your team reach a cup final. Oh, and the next time I stay in one of your father's hotels, I'm going to claim the bellboy kicked me and roll around in the lobby until they give me a free room upgrade. And then I'm going to take all of the bodywashes. All of them.

Finally, I would just like to make one last point on how thankful you should be. You see, this could have been a lot worse for you. Imagine, for a moment, that it wasn't me you played this little game against. Imagine it was Zlatan Ibrahimovic. If it was Zlatan you did this to...wow...he would have kicked you. He would have kicked you so hard that your body would have turned into a gas, caught fire and then covered the grass in a urine-like dew. Think about that.

Sincerely yours,

Eden Hazard, LAD Hunter