As for Andy Smith (West 'Am), he was again the whipping boy of the evening. Only once did he show any confidence - before a match against Bradley. "Oh dear: I feel another defeat coming on," he declared.

Jonny Palmer, the short feature writer (so short, in fact, that you have to careful not to tread on him) started with his usual show of listlessness, and during the second half of the tourney he slid into shear disinterest. He just sat on the sofa, feet dangling, like a gnome, and watched his Fiorentina side free-fall down the table without a word of protest. It was a poor display, frankly - he's only recently come back from a two month ban for 'ungentlemany apathy'.

Jim was somewhat 'out of sorts'. Shit, in other words. His Marseilles side often sweep all before them, so when after two games his record showed one draw and one defeat, he rather unsportingly confided to me over a cigarette that he didn't feel like playing Actua anyway.

Steve Bradley was without doubt the star of the evening, in more ways than one. Not only did the end of the night see him three sheets to the wind, it also found him topping the table undefeated. The highlights for him were the performances of a hitherto unknown Leeds United substitute called 'Steve Bradley'. At least twice he came on five minutes before the end to score. I myself was one of the victims of this mysterious super sub, so I couldn't quite share in the delight displayed by the terraces when this happened.

My own Liverpool side showed all its usual class, but assumed a position in mid-table. By helping assure Bradley's victory, I felt we could at least be certain of seeing the back of the northern git. And besides, Actua's a crap game anyway.