I'm stood in my usual spot selling the mag, about 15 mins before kick off, when this short, skinny, snarling old bastard walks up to me and hisses "and who the fuck are you like?" before sloping off.
I have no idea what his problem was or who he was. I'd never seen him before in my life.
It did cross my mind that it may have been Durango, but surely someone that short and weedy wouldn't be putting his mobile number on the internet and trying to arrange straighteners.
Durango, was it you??!!??