The first game of November always seems unduly symbolic.
Pity me. Honestly, you should. Not only did I have to stand through that [spoiler alert!] truly soul crushing pathetic whimper of a non-event; but by the end of this match report I’ve got to try and pick a man of the match… It’s going to be like trying to pick my favourite war criminal…
“…Tonight Matthew, I’m going to be a tiny Sardinian. He originally shot to fame on the West Side, but has remained in the public eye after embracing the East Side a couple of years ago. He recently raised eyebrows for heading in a direction many have described as ‘rocky’, leading some to say that this was a radical change of direction from his earlier more uplifting work…”
So firstly, a confession:
I live in the North of England. There, I said it. And it’s dealt with up front.