I get a lot of mileage out of this anecdote, but there’s bugger all else going on, so let’s do it. The tube journey home after winning the league at White Hart Lane sixteen years ago.

So we’re kept in for about an hour and a half after the final whistle, which is fine because nobody wants to leave anyway. While we’re celebrating, the police are busy outside securing the streets.

We get a police escort to Tottenham Hale and it gets a bit hairy at points, with groups of angry Spurs fans- who’ve been waiting for us and stewing for over 2 hours by now- keep jumping out to ambush us. But the police keep it all under control and we get to Tottenham Hale.

Tottenham Hale is one stop before Seven Sisters- the most commonly used tube station for the ground. When we get on the train, the driver announces the train will not be stopping at Seven Sisters for safety reasons. So we all board the train having a sing song and whatnot.

The train pulls into Seven Sisters and there are hundreds of furious Spurs fans on the platform. We were told the train wouldn’t be stopping, but it slowly grinds to a halt and we’re faced with a platform full of angry, blood thirsty Tottenham fans.

I admit I’ve never been so scared in my life. Bottles start raining down on the train and smashing as the train stops and the Spurs fans prepare to board. This is not going to be pleasant. They’ve been waiting for nearly 3 hours, they’re angry, drunk and have lots of bottles.

Silence descends as we await the carnage to follow. Except....the train doors don’t open. The train slowly starts chugging away again, leaving the angry Spurs fans to contemplate a sea of relieved, happy Gooners flicking the v’s and giving the ‘wanker’ sign at them.

It topped off a pretty lovely day, all told. Fin.