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For one night, not far from Hampstead Heath, I saw in a front garden a demonic figure with arched features and beams of lightningesque evil leaving his palms. He hovered and his torn cloak silently flapped. Okay I was on mushrooms plucked from Hampstead Heath, but I thought it unnecessary for...

"Oh boy", in honour of Quantum Leap

I remember him in Fletch. A complete legend for Cheers though, one of the greatest sitcoms of all time.

Anything with Beat Takeshi in had shocking moments in at the least. Violent Cop and Sonatine left an impression at the time of seeing them too.

I spent 42 years burying emotions or fighting my earnest to avoid them, and then had my son. It was agonising having to feel something, and is impossibly stressful to be bludgeoned by those despairing and loving senses. But you have to be occasionally proud of what you've attempted to do...

As the worst ever Gladiator, Viper, said last week: shut your hole, donkey.

An old friend of mine rogered Bungle. Had a one night stand and when chatting the morning after the revelation emerged. And no he wasn't wearing the suit at the time, and no he didn't rod Jane and Freddie.

One for the wankbank

The others listed have all been in shockers - Seymour Hoffman made every film he was in better, but he only had so much power to turn tripe to classic. Cazale didn't have that same domineering potency, but his anxious glare still sticks with me from Dog Day.

It was only ever John Cazale.

Dark arts guru consulted, and document signed. Bingo mcbongo.

Lamptey might be on for his pace, but by the shadow of the ghosts of Hades they are quick.

A different time indeed, but twas 1985, with myself 10 and older brother 12 allowed to travel to London from Brighton on our own to watch Schooly D. Town and Country Club in Kentish Town. Daytime gig, with, I possibly misremember, support from the Wee Papa Girl Rappers. The start of myself and...

Not necessarily a hardnut, but I still marvel each fortnight or so at Sidders flooring Yann Kuntagent with an elbow to the back of his evil head. Sly and fierce, but justifiably vengeful.

With an idea of his time of retirement the Velt must have dark targets set for the number of yellow and red cards administered thanks to his sporadic deception. He'll know the precise time to go when a squirm to the floor due to a player being less than a metre from him provokes no whistle. The...

We'd have to buy 4 attacking midfielders in 3 years with our bulging budget. I hope he'd think it was a shit place to play, and put all his efforts in for a high up team in Italy when he turns 31 if no huge PL team nabbed him for a small fortune beforehand.

Sadly nay. As with many momentary things of the past you speedily create a name to make a wry comment with, looking to in a flash impress and disappear. And of course then doing neither, and wearing the moniker for half a life instead.

Touch of the burly ne'erdowells about him, but bristles with confidence and has a thunder shot in him. He'll have to have a lot more games, and find how to work with teammates, to be more than a bustling charger bulging with potential. 21 though, so maturity will have to come at a pace.

I had a linguistic mix up in Porto. I don't think I'll return there. At the time I was trying to learn Spanish, and for some reason after reading obrigado as thank you in Portuguese I kept saying ALBONDIGAS. Of course, that means meatballs in Spanish, so, me saying it repeatedly in restaurants...

He's just at the beginning of a 14 year contract with Chelsea