Ultimately, though, Liverpool had inflicted a grievous result in the first leg when they scored three times in a 19-minute blitz and, importantly, did not concede an away goal.

We got lost out in the boondocks, miles from anywhere.

[…] when he shall know it lies in vs, To banish him, and then to call him home, Twill make him vaile the topflag of his pride, And feare to offend the meanest noble man.

Ah, you sweet little rogue, you!