Yellow fever is contagious, Antony

IT TAKES a particular kind of cretin to demand an opponent be disciplined and Antony was doing precisely that on Sunday, waving an imaginary yellow card during another feckless attempt to do what he is paid for. ‘Yes, yellow’, shouted my grandson, as we watched, proof that behaviour like this is a virus. The cheats are also influencers when seven-year-olds watch. Those brandishing an imaginary yellow should receive a real yellow. That sanction would not have been required in days of United men like Bryan Robson.

The reprisal would have been not dissimilar to Robson’s experience when he tangled with Liverpool’s Tommy Smith at Anfield. ‘For the next 15 minutes, Tommy absolutely cemented me,’ Robson related last week.

From the family for my birthday on Saturday came two packs of Paninis and a single Bob Paisley sticker — one of the missing pieces in my 1978 album. It presents a dilemma. To stick Bob in alongside ray Clemence? or frame him, given that he’ll have cost a lot more than the ’78 Panini price of 2p-a-packet. This requires reflection. And I need to get out more.