Ginger hair and freckles. So now we know. That is why we are where we are: plonked down here in the middle of the desert, Persian Gulf to one side, gleaming new (often half-empty) skyscrapers and sporting monuments of excess and exploitation on the other, for a Christmas World Cup that is definitely beer-less and feels ever more cheerless.
It is the freckle-face and Fantapants jibes that brought football to its point of no return.
