Roll on Paris, as super Jens brings tears to our eyes

STANDING on a small corner of foreign terracing that was destined to become forever Arsenal, as dusk fell on a balmy spring evening, there were big fat Gooners taking the wrappers off proportionately sized cigars.

Intermingled with the aromatic cigar smoke, one caught the occasional fragrant whiff of ‘whacky baccy’, as many of the travelling faithful found their own individual means of marking such a special occasion.

If only I’d set aside my own Cuban corona to celebrate the birth of a child, I’d have definitely tucked it into a pocket to take to Spain.