The sugar mouse ritual

What happened was, Chris Roberts bought a sugar mouse, bit …its… head off, dropped it in the Newmarket Road before he …could… get started on the body, and it got run over …by….. a car. And that afternoon a ritual …was… born.

Before each home game we all of us trooped …into.. the sweet shop, purchased our mice, walked outside, bit the head …off… as though we were removing the pin from a hand grenade, and tossed …the… torsos under the wheels of oncoming cars. United, thus protected, we remained unbeaten …for… months.

I know that I am particularly stupid …about… rituals, and have been ever …since.. I started going to football matches, and I know also that I am not alone. I can remember …having… to buy a programme from the same programme seller, and having to enter the stadium through the same turnstile.

There have been hundreds …of…. similar bits of nonsense, all designed to guarantee for one or other of my two teams.

I …have… tried ‘smoking’ goals in (Arsenal once scored as three of us were lighting cigarettes), and eating cheese-and-onion crisps at a certain point in the first half.

I have …tried… lucky socks, and lucky shirts and lucky friends, and have tried to exclude others …who… I feel bring with them nothing but trouble for the team.

Nothing (apart …from… the sugar mice) …has… ever been any good.