West Ham and Fiorentina there.

Looked like they had both expended all their bullets in a tiring end-of-season game on a balmy Prague evening.

Only for Jarrod Bowen to appear at the end and deliver the killer blow, like a dagger pulled from a sock.

David Moyes knew if he kept on bringing one it would pay off eventually.

(Who brings a sock to a gunfight?)

Christ. That was convoluted, and we’ve got absolutely nothing left to fill any more white space here either.

And try telling any of those Irons in that stadium that their delight is somehow unwarranted because they haven’t won the proper European trophy. The one that everyone moans about all the time as the ultimate trinket of the sports-washing elite. The bags of gold from The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.

Come on, if you’re reeling around some fountain in an Eastern European fleshpot how bothered are you really going to be by Chelsea supporters – or whoever – posting ‘hilarious’ memes about how small-time you are on the internet? No, if any fans can eke some joy from a game that 99% of the time people watch with a gob on them like Laura and Becky’s dad from Him and Her then fair fucking fucks to them.

Anyway, here’s one for you. A little ‘thought experiment’, if you will.

To be at the game and see Everton winning this thing West Ham just won, would you trade one of the Blues’ league titles? Doesn’t matter which, but let’s say one where there is no one alive now who would have seen it. Let’s say the 1914/15 one?

Answers on a postcode to somewhere in Teddington Lock.

Who knows, we might win the league this year anyway, to even out the pre-war one you just sold for your own selfish indulgence. With Bill Kenwright and Denise Barret-Baxendale seemingly booted off the board imminently, the handbrake will surely be taken off the club and it will be next stop Champions League! Because we better be replacing them with the ‘ruthless businessmen’ that inhabit the boardrooms of all the successful Premier League clubs – the ones where the fans are all dead happy.

Rumours are the shortlist for the two MSP Sports Capital (or whatever) board seats has been whittled down to, in no particular order: Jordan Belfort, Harvey off Suits, Cameron Diaz in Any Given Sunday, that SAS fella off the telly with the dead squeaky voice, plus Nargis, the head of Team Velocity, who tried to sell the cat calendars in Series 2 of The Apprentice.

Imagine though that when Kenwright is eventually pictured leaving Goodison with his belongings in a box, Lehman Brothers style, he actually does have a massive Hornby steam engine and a couple of pieces of track under one arm, and these last couple of decades have all been predicated on one really horrible misunderstanding.  

Doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?

For those remaining to steer the good ship Goodison, the priorities seem pretty clear.

Firstly, fight the charges coming regarding the alleged Financial Fair Play breach, with particular regard to any hint of a points deduction. Given how we survived last season by the width of one of the hairs on the skin of our teeth, then we can’t afford to give anyone a head start next season.

Given the outcome of that, and the subsequent parameters that we are able to work within in terms of spending on the squad, Sean Dyche then has to be backed as fully as possible. That may mean sacrificing a big name, but as long as the decision is his – or his in conjunction with Kevin Thelwell – then he’s got to be allowed to get on with it.

In fairness, Farhad Moshiri’s single biggest fault since coming to Everton has been the extent to which he has financially backed terrible managers. Let’s hope he now has the clarity, and both the money and the permission, to get behind a really fucking good one.