1906-1921 the worst years of my life, purgatory in its true catholic sense and now I’ve got to go back there on Sunday. I’d rather be at the altar stuck into some mouldy old dough. Surely I can withstand 2 hours at OT having survived 15 years? Well, 15 years minus the war, I must have been the only one on the planet grateful for a bloody war. Muck and bullets preferable to life in the dreadful swamp and I was at Ypres, Belgium. Belgium and the City of Manchester Stadium (not the Etihad note) were dancing on Wednesday night. Sponsored by (Dutch) Heineken but no booze allowed so we supplied our own. Boos that is.

And if I see anybody wearing a half-and-half scarf they are going to get my sharp end. Who makes the blooming things? Didn’t go down well in the aforementioned conflict.

These days the greatest talking point is about football injuries; the rags have only Luke Shaw out of contention, Ashley Young is expected back after sustaining a couple of bruises whilst out diving, the Dutch contingent can see again having borrowed Phil Jones’ box of tissues and Shrek has returned from Never-never land. We, on the other hand, have some of the world’s best purely watching and yet mutant ninja van Gaal is already making excuses for his team’s defeat. Vanker.

Not to self – must thank Aleksandar Kolarov for his country’s indiscretions in 1914.