If Dr Who was a football fan, this is exactly the kind of journey that would happen to him. It's a bit like a dope fiend stealing Harry Potter's invisibility cloak or bungee jumping through time portals from one completely insane world to another. Or like travelling through Sardinia with Lawrence of Arabia, instead of the author of Lady Chatterley's Lover. Ken Russell, we need you to make this book into a film.
And with that pronouncement, Loon dolloped the newly prepared hot food on to a tin plate, coughed over it, and zoomed out to the DJ booth where Hertzog was awaiting his tea. Both Ex and myself were now wedged into the tight management corner, her feeding me another toke, but looking right past me. This was a lovely rock'n'roll moment. But what the fuck was going on? Exterveen sneezed twice. Then I sneezed twice. Then our eyes met again, and we smiled delightedly but said nothing.