Ken Sproat went abroad for his holiday, but all he found was a thousand lousy replica shirts and the noise of inane Premiership chatter rining in his ears
Suitcase packed, passport and money checked a dozen times, now it’s time to think of the other holiday calculation – who to avoid. Some choices are straightforward – there’s the bloke who looks like Hitler, or the man who reads computer magazines, his swimming trunks almost in rubbing proximity with his thick grey socks. Plus work colleagues and anyone who might be Rodney Marsh or Eric Hall.