It was dark at Bramley Moore Docks. The rain fell and the overturned bins of garbage danced in the winds. A couple of dead seagulls turned their faces to the sky as if to ask a vital question...
What the feck is that noise lad?
That was us kid.
That was Anfield on a European night, drowning the whole of the city with a roar heard around the world. That was the Kop giving loads to world football's most overpriced vanity project.
That was the sound Guardiola will be hearing in his dreams the rest of his days. He will twitch and stir, almost waking, before the sound fades and he falls back to strangely troubled dreams, haunted by a feeling of doom he can never put a finger on.