It’s halftime at King power stadium. Mesut is still unimpressed. Olivier is still eating. I’ve lost count of how many throw ins Danny Simpson has done. I’ve lost count of how many transgressions Vardy has been warned for. Arsenal have been shooting at the net forever, it feels fruitless and empty. The net shoots back. Somewhere in the distance flamini weeps. Alexis and clattenburg are arguing, an echo in the tunnel. Slowly, slowly, chambo’s hair gets imperceptibly lighter.