If you want bluster, populist ranting and bog-standard football opinion from a big drinker, Brazil is your man.
He’s an exotic pleasure, like a pickled quail's egg or tight shark skin underwear. Johnny is a little in love.
Dion Dublin loves exclamation marks, has a great smile, invented a box and presents daytime telly. Lovely.
Not a PFM, but a PFJ - proper football journalist. For some reason he’s easy to imagine wearing a safari suit...
Football’s John Travolta? He would be very hard to knock over, even with a very large stick. That's better.
It's time for the man who once took Jim Carrey's Mask as a style icon. Dwight, not John Nicholson.
For a Guv'nor he is awful nervous. And definitely a PFM. Accidental assault ahoy...
Looks like Louie Spence and sounds like he could set his dog on you...but Higginbotham is quite eloquent.
In an all-too-often childish world, he behaves like a grown-up. Not a PFM. No roister or doister here...
This week it's the gentleman footballer, analyst and co-commentator: Joseph Barton.
This week John Nicholson is a bit frightened of Danny Mills’ stare and wishes he spoke proper Norwich.
He might be vanilla, but he's a top-quality vanilla. And vanilla is lovely. Does he own a denim cap?
This week Johnny watches football’s favourite multi-lingual Italian-American. Is Marcotti the first APFM?
Looks like he might tear your throat out at any point, like an especially aggressive ferret. It's Stuart Pearce
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