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Let a prime Laurent Robert hoof a ball at my heed from point blank range whilst I had it placed next to a brick wall.
Allow John Carver to place headphones on me, whilst he sits in a booth with a sensitive microphone, repeating “I still believe I’m the best coach in the Premier League” sloppily whilst eating a biscuit with a milky tea.
Let Adam Johnson look after my children and allow Roy Keane to take my dog oot for a walk.
Watch the m*ckems do us over six in a row on repeat with my eyes pulled open wide just so I can remember what being in the opposition box looks like.
Use Hermione’s time turner and prevent the birth of Alan Shearer so we never get to experience and ultimately look back upon how good things can actually get.
Shag the arse off Joe Kinnear in his tracksuit as he smears lipstick on his face and keeps telling me he can pick up the phone at any time of the day and talk to Sir Alex Ferguson.
Repeatedly drink bleach.
Stand naked on the end of the gallowgate in December with my only hope of clothing being protected by Duncan Ferguson...who’s stood in the Leazes.
And finally...have Alan Pardew at the helm at Newcastle United. Feel free to add. #NUFC
