I think I went to that game on the train from London with Peggy et al. The train had maybe half a carriage of Cardiff fans and the rest were Stokies. Peggy drank a bottle of creme de menthe, went into one of the Stoke carriages and offered the entirety of the assembled Stokies out there and then on his own. I was petrified. Incredibly, the Stokies all pretended to be fixated by the passing bucolic midlands scenery.**
**I am in no way condoning hooliganism in posting this, just relaying something that will be with me to the end of days.