And so, just like that, the Goodison Park pendulum of catastrophe swings back to ‘just wind the club up and give us our Saturdays back’.

Buoyed by resurgent performances against Brentford and Aston Villa, you would be excused for approaching a home game against Luton Town with a degree of optimism. Maybe even suggesting ‘I can see a team starting to take shape here’, or even, ‘Given the constraints they have had to work with, they’ve maybe done a better job than we thought.’ 

T-shirts with Thelwell’s face on and the legend ‘Kev says RELAX’ were maybe a bit premature, but still, two wins in a week and there was many a jaunty step along a rain-slick Goodison Road.

 And the Trickies came out swinging alright. Dwight McNeil and the feline-featured James Garner saw confident strikes whistle just wide as the Blues moved the ball quickly and overran a scrambling Luton defence.

Fatally for the Blues though – and stop us if you’ve heard this one before – it started to feel a bit easy for them. And a collection of cheeky bastards who only ever score a goal in a Preston Guild looked like they started to fancy themselves a bit. 

24 minutes, a corner. Jordan Pickford flailing like he’s fallen from a bridge, Ashley Young on the line to clear, but Tom Lockyer block tackles and it’s in the back of the net.

Fuck. My. Life.

Incidentally, that second to back row of the Main Stand, the one that’s on the same level as the one in front so you are staring at the back of someone’s bread basket the whole game. There cannot be many contenders for a worse spot in the ground than that.

Hang on, another gripe. Why does every Turkey-toothed, lower league, Bukta-gilet merchant think they are Diego Simeone? Luton deserve credit for a classic ‘smash and grab’ away performance, but just fuck all the way off with the time wasting. That walking back to their half after their goals, like street mimes leaning into a strong wind, took it to new levels of self-satisfied ‘look at our mastery of the dark arts’ bollocks. 

Honestly, the sooner the Americans completely take over football the better, because there is no way on earth they would tolerate the excitement of the games being deliberately ruined like this. The last 20 minutes of games are becoming unwatchable. And that’s when good teams are playing, never mind absolute shite like Everton.

Six minutes after their comedy opener, the Hatters doubled their lead. Again a set piece, no one picked up Carlton Morris and he simply planted the ball across Pickford and into the bottom corner. It was just a weird goal that you couldn’t imagine any half-decent team conceding.

Morris was a handful throughout, wrestling with the Everton defenders and chasing lost causes. He didn’t look too proud to get his shorts dirty, which is more than can be said of some of the Blues’ superstars who seem to think a ripple of applause wins them a 15 minute breather. 

Please note, I deliberately don’t name names there, so you can have a really good seethe as you presume it’s referring to whichever player is your own personal sacred cow.

You’re very welcome.

When Dominic Calvert-Lewin scrambled home just before half-time, hope was oh so bleeding cruelly rekindled. A second half onslaught was surely on its way. Watch out Luton!

Unfortunately, what ensued was more Allardyce than Alamo.

Jack Harrison replaced Idrissa Gana Geuye after the break and James Garner moved into the middle. This is what we have been waiting for!

And it was shite.

Beto came on with half an hour left and they finally went 4-4-2. Now this is what we have been waiting for!

Still shite.

There was simply no ‘Premier League quality’ to turn the screw on the limited visitors. Aimless balls into the box they have dealt with at every level they’ve ever played at, so they couldn’t believe their luck here. And when the Blues did make their ‘physicality’ count, Beto failed to hit the target with a couple of headers. 

By the end, Luton looked as likely to extend their lead as Everton equalise, with an offside flag denying Morris a second, and Pickford again forgetting to take his Ritalin.

Calvert-Lewin smashed a chance into the side-netting when he should have squared it and that pretty much summed up yet another shadow on the x-ray of a match at Goodison Park, home of the Blues.

Don’t dwell on it though. Instead of spending all week posting malignant comments below every Intagram post the club does, get out in nature, read a book, listen to music or go and talk to an elderly neighbour who may be feeling lonely and isolated in these uncertain times. 

Or just lie in bed and watch this on your phone. It’s absolutely fucking amazing.