Dickheads, to a man. I hated every minute of yesterday. The MK fans cheered the Liverpool/Everton result, as if they have any rivalry or history with Liverpool. The 1988 FA Cup Final had nothing to do with them. They also gleefully went along with everything the supremely irritating and ridiculously overload PA Announcer said ("Heeeeelllllllooooooo North Stand, let's hear it for the mighty [pause] Doooooooooonnnnnnnnnsssssssss"). Their flags had "Womble Army" and "Crazy Gang" on them, and their main song was "Martin Allen's Crazy Army". Basically taking the pish out of supporters of the club that they helped to steal.

When I was leaving, and talking on my mobile about how we should have won, and how MK look too clunky and one-dimensional to be anywhere near promotion, I didn't get any banter back, just looks of hurt as if I'd criticised their window display or given away the ending to The Sixth Sense - by the way, if any MK chump is reading this, the guy is dead.

Even the good things about my last visit have gone. Phil, no more angels serving you from a nicely placed pie hut. We were in that crappy half stand down the side and despite acres of open space at either side the grub was served from a hut behind the centre of this stand, and it was served by two gadgies.

Horrible, horrible place. Thank god it's only once a season.

I wonder how many Wimbledon fans actually travel to Buckinghamshire to watch 'their team'.