Who would ever have imagined that United fans, half of whose chants declare their pathological hatred for Scousers, would find themselves supporting a one-man team. Of Scousers.
There Avram Grant was, sitting in the Israeli sun, happily living off a legacy of being one fluffed penalty away from the first manager of a London team to lift the European Cup.
With his reputation intact, he had plenty of time to watch managers at top clubs across Europe get the chop, and wait for the phone to ring.
But when it did it was the Pompey chimes. And he couldn’t resist. So he goes there, and when he’s not getting shafted by the cub’s owners, he’s getting shafted by the owners of his local Asian massage parlour, who blab about his visits.