A conviction of Bedlam broken loose scattered Bradly's wits. Edmund circled the uproar with hackles up, craving a signal from Bradly to nip this old squaller by her broomstick legs. Cora kept edging off, her frown dark with impotent rebellion.

She could do forty knots in good weather.

It came inside 50 minutes and moments later Cavani should have had a 12th. Pogba and Shaw combined before the left-back's cross teed up the striker but his radar was awry.

You say you were knocked silly—was that so?