I was wearing my burnt ochre (yellow) away shirt with Gross 13 on the back, the one I was wearing by St Michael's Mount, Penzance, a few years ago, as Pascal score the winner at Old Trafford. And I did a little dance. (Then not last night).
The rest, though? Spot on. The flat cap is black and...
If you wife* happened to put on a blouse one morning that you considered not smashing, would wonder for a moment about the odd elements of life experience that inform taste, desire and fulfilment, and how they play a part in our pattern recognition process that guide us in small ways, or would...
I mean, we won the world cup, have a stadium half full of entitled plastics, and want the manager sacked every time we play shit and lose.
Or is the latter just a few keyboard warriors on NSC, emoting after one sherbet too many?
Poll to follow.