Laid low all week with some grim virus, so here's a very short thing from the third When Saturday Comes special published back in the days when wagonwheels were still the correct size and I could remember what I was looking for when I opened the cupboard.
'Vinnie Jones, a hard man. Vinnie Jones? You're joking aren't you? Vinnie Jones. You want to talk about hardmen. You talk about the Boro team of the mid-seventies. Spraggon, Craggs, Boam, Maddren, Foggon and Woof. Rock hard the lot of them, and each with a name that sounded like a Viking act of gross indecency.
Hard man, Vinnie Jones? Don't make me laugh. John Craggs, right? John Craggs, eve of Boro v Liverpool at Ayresome, 1976. He's gone in Billy Paul's drunk twelve pints of Jubilee black-and-tan (and never went to the toilet once, mind). He's gone across to the Dragonara. He's run up ten flights of stairs to the roof, dived off, landed head first on the pavement, cracking the slab with the impact. He jumps to his feet, points at that broken slab and yells: 'Tommy Smith, you're bloody next.'
Vinnie Jones....How, pet, when you're ready...'