31st December, 2013It was New Year’s Eve, which meant it was time for a right old knees-up. Bob had deserted me for some bird he’d met online – she had three kids and a Fiat Panda 4x4. However, I had high hopes that Alexander Kovich wouldn’t cancel the party this time round because even though they had a game the next day away to Stoke, it was only Stoke. Stoke were a team with a sometime unwarrantedly fearsome reputation of being hard to beat, whereas the main worry should have been whether you’d leave Stoke walking or by wheelchair. Anyway, that match was to come. It was New Year’s Eve and it was time to boogie.
Word around the campfire was that there’d be a big bash at Jackson Bang’s Phat Hos nightclub. I put on my tuxedo, last worn in 1985, with its pink frilly shirt, and made my way
