Its a Conspiracy

Thats right its a conspiracy United have got the FA in their pocket, and all the Referee’s on the payroll…..After the last 48 hours blanket coverage on Sky of Fulhams non penalty…..Thats the only plausable conclusion i can believe, i mean Adrian Durham from Talksport says so, it must be true!……..We have to accept that mans knowledge of the game is undisputable, he keeps ranting on about Gerrard being better than Paul Scholes, It must be heatbreaking for Scholes’y having such a professor of the Beautiful game doubting his ability when clueless nomarks like Zinidane Zidane, Iniesta and Patrick Viera have all waxed lyrical about the midfield genuis of Paul Scholes all saying he’s the best they have played against…So really was anyone shocked when that cretin on Talkshite jumped on the ABU bandwagon, quoted as saying “the referee has decided the premier league” …..Nobody doubts it was probably a penalty, but i think we had as much of a penalty, as City had got against Chelsea last week for Handball, but was it mentioned, of course not…..But you know if both decisions on Monday night were the other way round, We had the trip in the area and Fulham had the handball, you can gaurentee sky sports news would have shown the ‘HANDBALL’  so much on Tuesday, that it would hard to believe they hadn’t just signed a massive contract with the NBA to show Los Angeles Lakers and Chicago Bulls…So don’t tell me, they and other media outlets don’t have a Bias against Manchester United….Is it any wonder though with the amount of Liverpool Connected pundits influencing the sports entertainment industary..Like viralent woodworm eating away your most prised peice of furniure.. The thing is most of them spout this ‘The Ref’s are bent, and nobody gets a penalty at Old Trafford bullshit’ without statistics or facts to back up their nonsense….

The facts  say differently, and its actually more unlikely the away team will get a penalty at Craven Cottage, the home of monday nights opponents Fulham than at Old Trafford. .Penalties conceded at home by existing Premier League teams since August 2006 (teams must have played over 50 games during that time)

Team / Penalties conceded / Games / Penalties per game

 Blackburn Rovers     18     110     0.16
Wolverhampton Wanderers     8     53     0.15
Wigan Athletic     16     110     0.15
West Bromwich Albion     7     53     0.13
Sunderland     11     91     0.12
Arsenal     11     110     0.1
Newcastle United     9     91     0.1
Manchester City     10     110     0.09
Stoke City     6     72     0.08
Manchester United     9     110     0.08
Everton     8     110     0.07
Bolton Wanderers     8     110     0.07
Tottenham Hotspur     8     110     0.07
Fulham     8     110     0.07
Liverpool     7     110     0.06
Aston Villa     6     109     0.06
Chelsea     6     110     0.05

So guess what? our biggest accusers, and loudest Conspiracy theorists… LIVERPOOL have conceded less penalties at home than us…..and while i mention them, can some someone answer this Trivia Question: WHEN DID UNITED LAST GET A PENALTY AT ANFIELD?  Seriously i need to know!                                            Whereas at Old Trafford they have had at least four in the last three years alone………And to keep any City fans quiet, just let them know Last Season and this to date we had been given fourteen penalties to City’s fifteen, and had nine given against us to their six…HOW THE FUCK DOES ALL THIS ADD UP TO THE REFS AND FA BEEN BENT?  

So remember what a pillar of respectability and seeker of truth and justice Adrian Durham on Talksport really is…. the guy purports to be a Peterborough supporter, when he is so obviously another eighties gloryhunting out of towner Liverpool fan. I dont know why he doesn’t ‘come out’ (of the drain that is where most vermin can be found)…….   



Gloryhunters! Are you Having a Laugh?

So we as Manchester United Fans are forever having to explain ourselves and warrant the fact we support UNITED! why is it wrong to support United living in London, Bristol or Birmingham, and God forbid they have the audacity as a red  to ring a radio phone in and then sustain snidey comments by the ill informed host, You can imagine the presenter’s face (oh here’s another gloryhunter) and yet on the other hand  if a Liverpool fan rings with an arcitypal cornish accent from Newquay, he’s welcomed like a long lost Scouse Cousin… WHY! is it a crime to support Manchester United?    

When acutally the fact is, history shows nothing can be further than the truth. Most people outside of Manchester  picked up an affection for Manchester United because of the horrific consequences of ‘The Munich Aircrash’ and that support was then passed on down the family tree, whereas Liverpool’s out of town support is purely down to Gloryhunting, you don’t need a history lesson from me, about their success in the seventies and eightie’s..The Fucking BBC and Sky do that on a daily basis…The latest Trophy they have won, just the this afternoon You Won’t belive it! I could hardly believe my ears…They have won more ‘Corners’ this season than anyone else 243 whereas we have only just reached the 200 mark… WOW WEE  How sad are these Pricks! clutching at the slightest glory….But don’t forget you heard it here first when you have the misfortune of having to converse with one these Blame Everyone, know Nothing Cu-nts…

Anyway here is a newspaper article from February 11th 1974 which should help dispel this Gloryhunters tag United’s worldwide support continues to endure…A 60,000 sell out to see United go bottom of the league…. Liverpools nearest home game to this fixture was a ‘home’ League match against  Coventry City unfortunately they won but attracted a whopping 21,656 ….I have it on good authority the crowd was only that low because they had only got 3 corners in their previous game!


I hope that gives some of you a different perspective on things!

Funny Tales from UNITED ABROAD

One the funniest incidents I’ve  had supporting United: Five of us drove to Barcelona away in the Champions League when we lost 4-0 in 1994…No excuses really but the ‘three plus two’ rule for non english players didn’t help that night, no Eric Cantona or Peter Schmeichel is going to affect any team.. after a hiding like that we definately needed something to make us laugh. We’d spent a miserable night in Barca drowning our sorrows after the match and set off the next morning  driving up through the Pyrenees heading for Toulouse where we were to catch the French Autorail train to Paris.We loaded on the car and settled into our ‘Six’ birth couchette (three bunk beds on each side), My twin  Paul and I both baggsied (shotgunned ) the top bunks.. unfortunately as there was only 5 of us, and the train being full the spare bed had to be taken…. so in there wisdom the french railways gave the spare bunk to some French bird, she was a real fitty..But made out she couldn’t speak English. You can guess what happened!  we are all saying  “Oh its me she fancies”  the silly childish chat and ribaldry continued with the odd grunt followed by giggling, sad behaviour for five middle aged men but its got to be done.

Eventually the lights  were switched off and we  started to drift off to sleep.. Well into the middle of the night  I’m awoken by the sound of my brothers voice and the light going on,    “ Oi whats your Fucking Game”  he shouts, I look across at his bunk only to see some seventy year old bloke in his pyjamas  trying to get into his bed, It still makes me smile when I think about it now, the silly old git had been to the toilet and come into the wrong compartment. We asked him  why he’d let the bloke actually get into bed, he says he saw someone climbing the ladders in the darkness and thought it was the French bird.

Tight Bast-rds

How low can they get?                                                                                                          Anyone lucky enough to have got a Blackburn ticket in the ballot, has to pick it up by hand from the ticket office, with photo ID… The Club say its because Blackburn don’t have a duplicate system for Lost tickets.


Its simlpy because we have been allocated 6,500 tickets and those penny pincing Glazer’s need to save as money as possible to help pay off THIER DEBT!.. Saving £3,500 on stamps doesn’t seem much, i know….But it shows how tight the purse strings are…Expect a few big name Departures in the Summer, so we can help prop up the parasites failing American Business’s                                                                                 ONLY ONE MAN HAS THE POWER TO RID THE CLUB OF THOSE LEECHES!          And unfortunately he’s just sat on his hands and watched them Rape us!

United Abroad….St Etienne

European Cup Winners Cup….. 1st Round (First Leg) 14th September 1977


Geoffrey Guichard Stadium

Not the Russians in Afghanistan, But UNITED in St Etienne


Lots of people reading this article were not even born when this match was played and those of us that were around, Cor Blimey I suddenly feel old!. Its a struggle to remember everything that happened on this trip down memory lane, I’ll try to give you a perspective of what actually happened, and the story of my passage to the Loire region of France.                                                                                                                                                What Else Happened in 1977: Elvis Presley died; Jim Callaghan was the prime Minister, leader of the governing Labour party, with everybody going on strike at various occasions during the year, the country was in a right mess! Sound Familiar to anyone, even the old Bill (police) voted to strike at one point. The Twin Towers, World Trade Center in New York were finished and opened, but what will surprise most people is that!   And remember this actually happened on the 10th September 1977 the day before we set off for France, The Last person to be guillotined in France, had his sentence carried out. Hamida Djandoubi was executed for the torture slaying of his girlfriend, who he was trying to get, to go on the game. A doctor, who was present, reported that Hamida’s body was still responsive thirty seconds after he had been decapitated. So using the guillotine as a way to commute the Death sentence was replaced by more conventional methods.                                     Again I have to emphasize this was 1977 there was no Easyjet, Ryanair, FlyBe or any Budget airlines, it didn’t seem conceivable for us to fly, them days you went by train, or drove and if you didn’t have a car you Hitched!  I was lucky enough to have a twin brother who was kind enough to lend me his eight year old Vauxhall Viva with its brand new re-conditioned engine.

So on Sunday the 11th September, less than twenty fours after old Hamida had his head removed from his shoulders, Me, a fellow apprentice from work Moll (Maurice) and Gruff (Colin) packed the car with our Bell bottom jeans, Butterfly collar shirts and Platform shoes, we all brought baked beans, oh and the family tent, as much like Flying, staying in Hotels wasn’t included in our plans. Heading forDover, we stopped just outside Maidstone in Kent, to pick up a mate Phil (The Dill), the forth person in our party, who we’d got to know at Old Trafford on match days. Phil took us to his local working mans club in Teston for a few beers at lunchtime, before his Mum served up Sunday lunch.We caught a late afternoon ferry from Dover to Calais, setting up the tent in a camp site overlooking the Port of Calais, and after getting something to eat (Baked Beans) went looking for a bar.

                                            Monday 12th September, Up nice and early we all had a nice cup of tea and a cooked Breakfast of (Baked Beans) before heading south, taking the coastal road to Boulogne and Abbeville then onto Beauvais, on the outskirts of which we stopped for a brew and a quick snack (Baked Beans). And we found a bit of luxury in the towns toilets, some English style sit down one’s, so far we’d only come across the hole in the ground continental shitters, unfortunately the seats were in a right state though. Anyway we must have been short on conversation as we continued towards Paris, because I remember the chat soon turned to how we dealt with dirty toilet seats. I know its disgusting but when blokes get together after Football and Women, it’s not long before toilet habits rears its ugly head, one covered the seat in bog paper, one hovered without actually making contact with the seat, Phil cleaned it when he went in, and I lifted the seat, used the having a slash stance except aiming my backside toward the pan, it felt like I pissing out my arse anyway after only eating beans for two days. We reached the centre of Paris early in the afternoon, yes the centre, all I remember is Phil had said he knew the way, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I’m certain Bonnie Tyler wrote her hit single in 1983 about our drive through Paris, it was called “lost in France” and we certainly were, on the plus side from now on, I could tell people I have seen the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomph, and Longchamp the famous racecourse, where we found a quality campsite and considered staying the night but decided against it, as it was still light and didn’t want to be driving out of Paris early in the morning, More with luck than judgement we managed to get out of Paris, heading south and even managed to end up on the road we required. Fontainebleau was the lucky town we decided to bestow our custom that night, setting up the tent, having our usual dinner, and finding a bar.

Tuesday 13th September, Much the same as the previous day really, apart from not getting lost that is!… As I have already mentioned earlier Flying and Hotels were not in our remit, I forgot to mention so were Toll Roads too much money! The route we went, took us through three of the most beautiful towns imaginable Nemours, Nevers and Roanne on route to Lyon all of which stand on the River Loire I think! Stopping for a quick beer in each of them. Just letting you know I have got a cultural side, which a lot of people didn’t think existed. In Lyon we found a campsite habited with loads of reds, so we pitched tent had some grub, changed into our best gear, yes Holmsie I have got some! John Travolta eat your heart out,Lyon lock up your Daughter’s we’re heading into town looking for a disco!Except we didn’t, the fucking car wouldn’t start. “All dressed up and no where to go” is the saying, apart from the dingy Camp Cafe that is, Shiny white suits weren’t really the attire for such a dump anyway, especially when the temperature dropped and I put on my Donkey Jacket, i never quite took off as a fashion guru!

Wednesday 14th September, Match day, but would the car start? Luckily for us some of the reds that had made it into town last night had returned safely, admittedly a bit worse for wear, but still more knowledgeable in motor mechanics than any of us. One lad diagnosed the problem straight away…” It’s Your Starter Motor”  He used all the old tricks of the trade, Rocking the Car, side to side and some other stuff, I can’t remember what, but it worked and the little Beauty started. We were in St Etienne before 10am, parked up just off the town square and embarked on a day of debauchery!                                                        The town square is slowly beginning to fill with fellow reds and a fair few locals who haven’t seen anything like it since liberation in WW2. The Testosterone is still pumping after last nights disappointment and it’s not long before me and moll have got a couple Mademoiselle’s in tow, taking us to the best bars, I must have exchanged addresses, but I didn’t remember doing it, anyway for weeks after, I kept getting letters written in Pigeon English from one of them. And I know is Maaauurrriiiccee  (Moll) That’s how they prounced Maurice, kept in touch with his bird for along while after.

                                      Everything seemed peaceful in the town square as United’s numbers multiplied and the beers started to flow, but by early afternoon the police presence was clearly visible and they seemed agitated. I know nowadays if you hang around the town centre, singing and jumping in the fountains you get labelled a barmy! But back then it was the cool thing to do. And with limited knowledge of European travel it was always the meeting place, nowadays you can plot up in a quiet boozer somewhere, and ring around your mates to meet up..

We are lapping up the French beer in all the café’s and Bars and as usual the licensee” likes our money but not our behaviour and end having to drink bottles in the square with the rest of the throng. The girls are suitable impressed when Gruff and I invite them to join us in the water fountain sat in there singing and drinking beer, what girl wouldn’t!  Well the old Bill didn’t and they suddenly lost it and started nicking everyone left right and centre. I saw them coming and tried to leg it but I got caught and ended up in the back of a van, Gruff got away and Moll was rescued away by the two girls, as I looked around Phil the Dil was already sat in there. The van started to leave the square to take us away, when the driver saw a group of Drenched united fans down some side street and took chase, the van screeched to a halt and all the old bill jumped out and chased them, everyone looked at each other in the van, I thought fuck it! Lets try the door, and it opened, I couldn’t believe it, so i am off, like a rat up a drain, down the road. Phil made his escape as well, but about six other lads just sat there like Lemons, and ended up missing the game. I never saw Phil, Moll or the girls again that afternoon, but found Gruff in some little bar well away from the Town Square; sirens were going all afternoon so we thought it best to keep our heads down in this Bar until kick off. We carried on guzzling and got absolutely blitzed until about an hour before kick-off, leaving the bar pissed and no idea where the ground is, I remember buying some Bread, French Sticks and savaging them, we sat down on the side of the road to rest. I honestly think at this point Gruff and I did not care if we got to the game or not, in fact we had even fallen asleep for a few minutes, when a car beeping its horn woke us up, some French bloke gesticulating something, I think he knew we were English and was offering to take us to the stadium. Our new-found friend dropped us at the stadium where unbelievably we meet up again with Phil and Moll who help us into the ground, Phil leads us to what was supposedly the United End, but it was packed in there, not just United Fans but French family type supporters’ so it was decided to go in their End, where it seemed quite lively, and they were booming out their song ALLEZ LES VERTE’S Allez..By the time the game started there must have been about two hundred United fans in their end, looking from the United End we are at the top on the right hand side. We have now adopted their anthem, and are returning song with ALLEZ LES ROUGE Allez. The French now started throwing chunks of French bread at us, not in an aggressive tone I admit, more Mickey taking really, as back home in England we were in the middle of a bread strike. But then Plastic bottles filled with Piss were being thrown, so we charged across the terraces and pushed them more than half way across the end, pass the goalmouth, As usual in the seventies a sort of no mans land appeared and both sets of fans bounced about inviting the other side to “Come On” suddenly this French Bloke stepped into no mans land waving his arms about telling everybody to “Calm Down” and “Cool it”

A still pissed Gruff stepped into the gap with him; I thought to mediate, Really! And just sticks the nut on this bloke and we charge again. Their fans panic and start trying to climb over the fence to take refuge on the pitch. In the meantime the Riot police come in and push us back, then squeeze us into, again looking from the other end, the bottom right hand corner, towards yet another line of Riot police, shoving us out the stadium but making us run a gauntlet of batons while exiting.    Manchester United fans were public enemy number one in those days, so as you can imagine the English press had a field day, and spent the next few days slaughtering United fans and labelling us Barbarians who have shamed the country.Incidentally no one was killed! But we then and still to this day are treated like Lepers’ unlike another unmentionable set of supporters who have been involved in Mass murder, but are permanently loved up! By the media.                                                                                 And this sort of headline was common place. It didn’t help our parents’ reading stuff like that, who were worried sick, and with No Mobiles, Internet, etc it was hard to let them know you are safe.  Anyway after our ignominious  early exit from the stadium, The match actually finished 1-1 and St Etienne, France’s premier team at the time, played some good football and United were happy to leave with a draw, so I am told, and with all hell breaking loose we headed back to town, jumped in the car and started to drive…Everyone is totally knackered, Gruff fell asleep when we set off and never woke again until the morning, ether that or he pretended to be sleeping so he didn’t have put the tent up.                 Nevertheless the first quiet spot we could find, north of St Etienne was chosen as a makeshift campsite, we were too tired to find a proper site. I just remember it been absolutely pitch black, and having to use our headlights, when we pitched tent, three of crashed out in the tent leaving Gruff in the motor. Anyway and god knows what time it was, but it was starting to get light, the three of were woken with a thunderous noise, Whoosh! The ground shuddering and the tent blowing from side to side, and then silence. We just looked at each and went back to kip, a few minutes later exactly the same thing again…Whoosh! Next minute the three of us are sticking our heads out the tent…..Like a scene in a carry on film, to see what the fuck! Was that?  In the meantime another Whoosh! And it’s then we realise we have set up camp, on the Hard shoulder of a motorway, it is Juggernauts driving by, gusting the tent away. It’s not long before we have all joined Gruff back in the car.

Thursday 15th September                                                                                              Due to last night’s disastrous navigation and campsite location, we have an early start and take the same scenic journey towards Paris; it never seems to looks as pretty second time around. We still have plenty of beans of left, so stop on route to have our fix and a cuppa. By late afternoon we have reached Paris, this time deliberately and have set up the tent in the campsite we found in our impromptu visit to the French capital on Monday, planning a night on the tiles in the iconic city of Paris on the river Seine. We weren’t the only reds here either, and during next few hours our numbers swelled to about two hundred, some battered and bruised courtesy of the French Riot Police, and even a couple of Dicks who stayed in the police van, when we made our escape, that’s how I knew they missed the game, some others hadn’t got in either, having arrived late at the ground, they were caught up in our unwanted evacuation. The bar on site was becoming really lively and you’d think it was match day, so did the old bill, our reputation must have preceded us, after last nights shenanigans. Everyone’s plans of a night in Paris were scuppered, when the Riot Police surrounded the campsite and would not let anyone leave. This campsite must have been two hundred and fifty miles from St Etienne, to have this many fans turn up unplanned like this just would never happen nowadays. We all got pissed anyway, and had real laugh with some of the lads on site, with me been so quiet and reserved all the non-English present wished they had stayed in a different camp that night.                                                                                                                             

Friday 16th September                                                                                                    Time to go home! We get up, pack up and go, well that was the plan, but the Vauxhall Viva decided to play up again, so we called upon the help of the still present united fans to give us a bump start, pushing on grass isn’t easy and we started with about five pushing us, but she wouldn’t start, eventually we had a crowd of about fifty trying to help, and when the engine kicked in everyone cheered and waved us on our way. We had one more stop to make before leaving France, and that was a visit to a boulangerie and stock up with sticks of French bread, because with the Bread strike back home, it’s a way for us all to get back in our parents good books after they have been having kittens, worrying about us for past four days. We dropped Phil off and headed home, I got home Friday night and managed to get the last hour in my local, to meet a few mates, and talk about tomorrows impending visit of Chelsea to Old Trafford, rumour has it they are actually  bringing a mob, but only if they get a police escort. That’s another story anyway. … Well that’s the story behind the 1977 Cup Winners Cup, 1st Round, First Leg    The repercussions that followed meant United Were Banned from the competition,But this was later overturned.Here’s a link to BBC nine o’clock news announcing the Ban…         


HOW MANY  UNITED GAMES?…..  Stopped counting years ago, got to be around the 1,600 mark easily, forty six years following United still nothing like it! 

 HOW MUCH MONEY ?……God knows you  get frightened thinking about the money spent, the miles travelled to see United?  No, Its got to be done….I even re-mortgaged the house in 2003 to get enough money to tour the states that summer with my cousin, going to the games in Seattle, Los Angles, then finishing up in Philadelphia and New York, which seemed appropriate at the time, as I’d shipped the wife and kids off to Great Yarmouth, Norfolk in a caravan, while I was away. …..I can say with a clear conscience, we both went to the East Coast that summer, What’s she got to moan about! The guilt must have got to me. In 2010 I took all the family to South Africa for that Vodacom Cup in Pretoria, throwing in a  six day safari for good measure, at the Kruger National Park, lots of Brownie points for that, i can tell you!  

FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES….Made some great friends during my forty six years, following the Reds,and met some very strange people and a fair few lunatics .(thats you i’m talking about lindsay). altough on some else’s blog i probably come into second category…The lads i go with now have been and gone the distance like myself, Mick Hurley, Holmsie , Bobby and Lee I have known the longest, and they haven’t changed a bit, especially their clothes! We used to go out fridays looking for a new Hip Joint, now i think Mick’s getting a new Hip Joint….I cant forget John Daniels (former editor of Red Issue) and Big Al who still gets in touch regularly, he’s in my opening banner with me and my twin Brother……And reds i’ve met more recently in the last ten years Trevor, Fitz, Dave the Hat, and Kev make match days such a great day out along with two of my three sons Peter and Matthew who have  well and truly got the United Bug…Gaz, Dartagnon, Chew and the big fella (Andy) always meet us at games, it gets mighty crowded in the Greatstones  , But Adrian the owner looks after us, its a great watering hole on match days..Apologies to other Reds I’ve forgotten to mention, but I’m getting old…Me memories going…

GET TO KNOW ME! (Part 1)

HOW COMES UNITED?…..Family, my Dad was a born and bred Mancunian, his sister still lives in the house he was born in, just off the Middleton Road near Heaton Park Higher Crumpsall… My Missus thinks I was Gypsy,  But Dad was a soldier all his life,  serving in the Lancashire Regiment, South Lancashire’s, Queens Lancashire’s, etc, meaning we spent  all my formative years living in Warrington, Liverpool, Lancaster, as well as Germany and Hong Kong, before settling in Morecambe,  where my mum started a Bed and Breakfast, hopefully giving us a base, while dad went off unaccompanied with the army, Sadly It didn’t work out and we had to move to North West London in 1973. As I mentioned earlier, I actually started going when we lived in Liverpool with my Dad, but as we got older,me and my twin  made our own way on Battersby’s Coaches from Morecambe every week. I always drive up to games now, from Milton Keynes, but used take the train up, until the early eighties with the cockney reds.

FIRST GAME? …… United  3 v 2 Newcastle  September 1966, we lived in Liverpool at the time, I’d like to say I was on missionary work, but me dad was in the army, I remember only me and my twin  supporting United in a classroom full of vermin.(Liverpool and Everton fans)

FIRST SEASON TICKET?…..   1976  LMTB in the Stretford Groundside, about £16… had a season ticket every year since! been  in every stand at sometime or another over the years, currently Stretford Lower.

FIRST TIME I TOOK A GIRL TO THE MATCH?….   My sister came to quite a few games in the sixties, but we went as a family with my Dad. I have taken the wife a few times but she never really enjoyed it, and she feels like i’m inhibeted with her there…Anyway the final straw was when i took her and a mate of hers to villa away in the middle eighties, about twelve  of us went in a transit van, after the match, queuing in traffic we departed the van to exchange pleasantry’s with a mob of villa, they weren’t interested, but some hero amongst them, launched a brick through the windscreen, and caught the wife’s mate in the face, she nearly lost an eye, as you can guess the wife’s never been since.

SITTING OR STANDING?…..  Its always been standing, but I think I need to sit now. Ticker trouble.(I had a little heart operation at Harefield hospital six years ago) Defo miss standing though, the atmosphere at games espeacially at home now is so sterile its becoming unbearable!

FIRST UNITED HERO?…..    Denis Law, still my favourite of all time THE KING!           The original King (sorry Eric)  and definately not that imposter down the east lancs road who the media have suddenly invented some sort of coranation for him because it rymes with Kenny! ……..As for me typical family of reds in the 60’s, Mum, Dad an RSM in the Lancashire regiment, and my sister liked Bobby Charlton, our older brother loved everything George Best, me and  my twin Paul just wanted to be Denis Law…Throughout 1966-68. Denis was  the  only player who until Eric Cantona arrived, gave me a feeling of invincibility, I just didn’t feel we could lose when he played…I know we did, but does anyone else feel it about a player ?. Or was just me.

FIRST PLAYER TO DO MY HEAD IN?….   John Aston, everyone remembers him fondly because of performance in the 1968 ECF, but at Old Trafford you could hear the groans all around when he was in possession. probably harsh on him really, having to impress in a team containing the holy trinity..

FIRST EURO AWAY?….. 1976  Ajax  EUFA Cup  we lost 1-0   (First game back in Europe, since losing that dodgy European Cup Semi Final against AC Milan in  1969)         Went by coach on a David Dryer trip  (remember him) No toilets on coaches in them days, i’m certain that journey started my prostrate problems!  Dam Square with all the United fans was heaving…watching  the dutch plod, trying to empty a bar full of reds, using Dobermans and batons, not what we were used to, anyway some pissed up united fan, grabbed one of the dogs and bit it, taking a great lump out of it, you could see loads of fur in his teeth….Absolutely hilarious, I’ve often wondered if he had a tetanus jab, …             The Doberman that is!.