It's gong time. But we can't help thinking Graeme Souness gets awards because Johnny is scared...
This week Johnny puts down his tumbler of cranberry and vodka, takes off his bra and looks at the hunky man called Killa
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?
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