FOOTBALL, as we know, is a game of high drama and raw emotion — played, officiated and followed by people who are, above all else, human. And being human, they shall make mistakes.

In saying that, this past week's dramas I have found a lot harder to forgive.

I'm referring, of course, to a recent week night when, under cover of darkness, someone wrapped my car in toilet paper. It may not have made the six o'clock news, but in my world it was just as scandalous as events that have dominated the mainstream media this week.

Waking up to another bitterly cold Melbourne morning, I tried to hide under layers of jumpers and beanies to avoid a nasty frostbite on my way to pick up The Age and coffee for the family. As I feverishly tried to open our family car, to my horror I noticed that my Mini Cooper (early mid-life crisis) had been targeted in the most demeaning fashion.

Eight rolls of toilet paper to be precise, which suggested to me this was not a crime of passion. This cold-blooded criminal — or criminals — may have been stalking me and my Mini for months.

Once I had removed the offending toilet paper, I sat for a little while, despondent and frightened. It was in that moment that I turned my attention to revenge and the days that followed were played out like an Agatha Christie novel.

With no experience in crime investigation, I decided right away that I would take the law into my own hands. Everyone was a suspect — even the way Jarvis and his mum looked down at me, laughing and pointing as I cleaned up the crime scene, had me thinking they could be involved.

But only as puppets, surely. So who was pulling the strings?

Heinous crimes like this are commonplace in football clubs, often referred to as pranks or practical jokes. Yet to dismiss toilet "papergate" as a practical joke implies a sense of fun — for the culprits, sure, but what about the Mini and I? We both were left sitting in the gutter in a pile of toilet paper. Forgive us for not joining in on the laughter.

The investigation was hampered from the outset; the council took away the toilet paper before I could fingerprint the area properly and seal the crime scene for clues. I had, however, started to compile a list of suspects.

Lindsay Gilbee was at the top. A career criminal in the world of practical jokes, Lindsay certainly has the know-how and cunning, but does he have the common sense to keep the web of lies from unravelling?

Maybe he was working as a team with his roommate Shaun "the pig" Higgins, a young, up-and-coming crook in the mould of his mentor Gilbee.

These were the things I had to weigh up. Having questioned both boys the following day at training, it was going to be hard to pin it on them as they had a solid alibi — Ryan Griffen's birthday dinner. A double blow — my two main suspects in the clear and no invite to the dinner.

I turned my attention closer to home. Closest in proximity to my house is the motley crew of Daniel Giansiracusa, Ben "Rock" Hudson and Will "Minno" Minson.

I didn't even consider asking "Gia" — I'm a bit wary of his Italian connections around town, to be honest.

As for the other two, one of them has form. Only two weeks earlier Hudson had admitted to knocking on my door while he was out walking his dog, and then running off.

The new boy to the area, I'd be surprised if "Rock" would be so bold after being sprung so recently.

All this left me with the big German. I bribed our club physios with the promise of lunch if they could sniff out any information and they revealed that Minno definitely had the most guilty demeanour of the lot.

With little or no evidence to go on, I have decided to wage an all-out attack on Minson. Whether he did it or not now seems irrelevant — he's just one of those people who should have an egg thrown at his door every now and then.

As the yolk, white and shell slide down Will's door onto his front step this afternoon, I will feel the warmth that comes with being on the right side of a practical joke.

But even with that small victory the chill of papergate will stay with me for a while yet.