Then when we get there we’ll be playing one of those clubs that supporters tend to have a bit of respect for. They’ve had a bit of a rough ride over the past decade, and for the previous hundred years come to think of it, but they’ve never come out with any of that sleeping giant nonsense and they’re not as far up themselves as their charming neighbours. Being of a higher social and ethical standard than the neighbours is one thing we’ve got in common.

They might not sound too bad, but they’re still our inferiors and exist solely to be crushed, as and when they get in our way. Their owners’s family used to own Marseilles, so Sunderland are a bit of a comedown. Unsurprisingly they’ve got a French manager, and Neil Cutler’s their goalkeeping coach.

They’ve got Bertrand Traore, another one of the players we signed for loads and gave away a couple of years later, because he was another one of those players who could be world=beating on his day, but his day was usually 29th February.

When their ground was built it was acclaimed as the best of the new generation of post-Taylor Report stadia, and like most of them it’s already showing its age. Inside the main entrance is the oldest surviving painting of a match, when we played at one of their earlier grounds. They’ve had a few.