Thoughts turn to the war at home

SO here we are, embedded in the smoking ruins of the campaign, with Fergie entombed in his Bunker, raging against all-comers and blaming any scapegoats he can lay his hands on.

Yes, it’s Kurtian WW2 allusion-time once more; you may recall I summoned up the spirit of December 1944 last week before the Bayern kick-off.

How accurate a prediction that turned out to be, though. Forty minutes of stunningly roaring through the Ardennes, having taken everyone by surprise with our formational line-up and tactics — then we ran out of fuel, as Rooney ground to a halt, and the inevitable collapse duly ensued.