“NO, ACTUALLY IT’S LORD NORWOOD TO YOU…”

Tranmere forward James Norwood is football’s only Lord of the Manor – all thanks to Pizza Express

Football’s first great populariser was Arthur Kinnaird – aka the 11th Lord Kinnaird, a man who made nine FA Cup final appearances in 11 years during the late 19th century. But the blue bloods have largely steered clear of the national game in the years since, apart from when Djibril Cisse buys a house. Now, though, they walk among us again. Please be upstanding for Tranmere Rovers’ leading scorer this season: Lord Norwood of Hougun Manor.

All is not as it seems, however. Lord Norwood – better known to the Prenton Park faithful as mere commoner James Norwood – isn’t, strictly speaking, a member of the aristocracy.

While the title runs off the tongue rather smoothly (“It does sound quite noble, doesn’t it?” he chuckles) this is a lordship that has more to do with splashing the cash than being to the manor born.

“I was having a meal with my mates at Pizza Express back home in Eastbourne,” the former England C captain explains to FFT, “and one of the lads said he got upgrades on planes, trains, anything, because he’s a lord. I said: ‘You can’t be a lord.’

“He explained that his parents bought him a lordship. I immediately got on my phone, Googled it, and before the starters came out, I had bought myself one! I said: ‘Right, there are two lords at this table now!’”

All it took to surge up the social ladder was a couple of taps on his phone.

“They send documentation through which explains all the perks that the title gives you. It’s weird. People believe you really are a lord. I bought my dad one for his birthday. Obviously he couldn’t have his son being a lord and him not.

I kept telling him he was a peasant, and that lords don’t make cups of tea for people like him.”

Nestled in the heart of Cumbria, Hougun Manor certainly sounds like a proper-job ancestral seat; a grand estate handed down the family line that conjures images of gently undulating hills and salmon-rich streams. However, the extent of Norwood’s lordly domain is somewhat more modest.

“I’ve got a patch of land which is about a metre squared,” he sighs. “I’m looking to build a high-rise on it.”

Norwood’s instant ascent, secured for a speedy outlay of just £35, has unsurprisingly left him wide open to ridicule in the Tranmere dressing room.

“No one can believe it,” he laughs. “I got torn apart for it by the rest of the team.” He did, however, have a sharp reply for those doubters. “I said: ‘If we win the league and we go off on holiday together, you guys can enjoy economy while I’m being served free margaritas at the front of the plane.”

Quite right, too, your Lordship.