I met up with Mr Charlton Athletic again today.
It took about 30 seconds to descend into conversation about the beautiful game.
"Who do you support?", MCA asked our neighbour.
"Manchester United" he said.
MCA and GB exchanged a meaningful look.
But then our new friend told us the tale of how he came to support the ManUre.
When he was about 6 or 7 he had an older teenage cousin (about 16/17) whom he thought was the coolest thing on the planet.
He came to the house one day wearing a beautiful silk football scarf.
Our friend duly pressurised his mother into buying him one and could barely contain his excitment when he got home to ring his cousin to tell him.
"I've got a Man United scarf now just like yours"
Sadly, readers, his joy was somewhat marred when his cousin explained he was a West Ham supporter and would no more dream of sporting a Man Utd scarf than fly to the moon.
But as our friend explained it was too late.
He was saddled.
He looked slightly embarassed as he went on to confess that he has passed this dreadful curse onto his children and other family members.
There really are some tragedies in football, aren't there?
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