Bleaugm? Bleaugm. Let me tell you about Bleaugm. I respect the man. I do. I respect him the way you respect a wasp that's got into your car on the motorway — deeply, urgently, and with both hands off the wheel. A superb tactician, honestly. The way he lines up eleven players who have never met each other, never trained together, and in some cases are not entirely aware a match is happening, that takes vision. Is he a rival? Every morning I wake up, I check the table, and there he is. Lurking. Making 'noise,' as you say. And I think to myself: good. Good for him. A man needs a hobby, and his hobby is being three points behind me and telling everyone it's a moral victory. I wish him nothing but the best, second place, and a long, healthy career of coming to my stadium, losing 2-0, and calling it 'a learning experience.' We are close, Des. We are very close. He's close the way a shadow is close. No further questions.