Remember the Swales Out campaign? The utterly demoralising turmoil we went through with that? And the Forward With Frannie stuff? Still relatively fresh in the minds of us FOC's. But now the boot is firmly on the other foot.
Just as those glory-hunting fuckwits from Trafford were so eager to stick the knife in, so we must now return the favour...with interest.
Obviously I can only speak from my neck of the woods, but the old adage 'forewarned is forearmed' is much in evidence around here, because there has been an uncanny dearth of raggies around these parts for the past few years.
At one time it was wall to wall plastics: you couldn't move without bumping into some overweight gimp with a fading rag shirt with the word Beckscum across the back. A fat-faced mummy's boy who had probably never ventured further than Croydon in his lifetime. Round granny-glasses, trying desperately to look like John Lennon - and failing. Peering nervously like a short-sighted owl on a tree branch, fearful in case anyone should enquire as to when did he last go to the swamp and see a game.
You don't see them anymore. They have become an endangered species: the lesser-spotted plastic rag.
Personally, I hope to fuck they go the same way as the dodo.