Bring back the old teleprinter that shakily typed out Accrington Stanley 2 - Soton........ ........ .......... .......1
The hesitation, the anticipation was mind-blowing and whilst we're at can we have a no-nonsense blunt Yorkshireman manager, a ginger headed Scottish flying winger, a dim-witted balding centre-forward who kicks lumps out of goalies and scores diving-headers and above all a captain that gees up the team and occasionally loses his rag trying to install a bit of passion into the team.
PS Season over, rebuild the gas holder.