I understand. You found paradise in Merseyside, you had a good trade, you made a good living. The press protected you and there were owl parties. You didn't need a friend like me. But, now you come to me, and you say: "Dean Sturridge give me goals." But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me Big Danny. Instead, you come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married, and you ask me to do goals for money.