Paul Lambert sits cross legged on the roof of the Sheepshanks End

Sucking on a Berkeley Menthol and surveying his new kingdom in the chill night air. There's no aura, no vibe, not yet at least. There is the slight whiff of low quality fertiliser, apple cider and insufficient financial backing. Paul stubbs the tab out on the face of his Casio and pings it into the night. He stands, his Gola providing an excellent grip on the corrugations. A line from one of his favourite songs suddenly flits into his brain. Unabashed, he roars it into the night. "Knee deep in the hoopla", the words rebound and echo back off the tin. He unfurls his cape, leaps down to the grass and, still in his landing crouch, asks Siri to "call f**ken Karsa". The lads need a hand, and Lambert needs to eat.

Posted By: MIKEWALKER, Oct 26, 07:01:24