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First introduced to us as an 18th century homosexual poet Mr. Barrington Wilson is nothing short of an enigma.

At first you assume that he surely must be a raving arse bandit and then you watch him play football. No word of a lie this man is a hard bastard on a football pitch.

Off the fabled turf you are likely to witness something altogether quite disgusting. The Urban Council will soon erect signs banning spotty arsed Gweilo deviants from vile acts of nudity in places as discreet as the Lo Wu border crossing at Chinese new year. Barry you are a legend.