I recall us giving Neville Southall a shed load once during the entire second half. He was a bin man and we'd all shagged his wife etc.
After the game we all piled out of Goodison and a solitary figure was walking in the opposite direction through us all.
It was Southall.
There was lots of "Alright Nev" and "How do Nev" with a smile and a nod back.
Them were the days. Banter was just that and it was forgotten about after the final whistle.
Think that was also the game we were sledging Sharp for never playing for Scotland. At the next corner he started counting his caps on his fingers to us.
City v Everton. Check.
Abuse. Check.
But everybody being adults about it and not hysterical fannies.