The Everton scarves gave the game away. “Would you like a lift?” inquired the voice from behind the half-opened front passenger seat window of a swanky car stopped at traffic lights near Hammersmith station in London.
“Yes please, Mr Chairman,” I replied eagerly, before leaping in the back with my Evertonia-adorned sons, Conor, 9, and Dom, 8, and their (tentative Manchester United-supporting) friend Stephen.
