It is probably a mistake to start with a British cultural reference that is nearly 29 years old, but this is a story about misgivings and mistakes, so it feels apt.

In 1995, the late, great comedian Caroline Aherne had a spoof talk show in which she played a character called Mrs Merton, an elderly lady from Manchester who would ask celebrities disingenuously blunt questions.

“So, what first attracted you to the millionaire Paul Daniels?” was her famous opener to Debbie McGee, the glamorous assistant and wife of the aforementioned TV magician.

A version of that question had been rattling around my head while I tried to find a common thread between the four case studies we have done this week on men who want to buy football clubs.

So, Chris/Dozy/William/Thomas, what first attracted you to the cash business with property assets that would guarantee weeks, if not months, of positive media coverage and a huge dopamine hit from the gratitude of strangers?

Because when you put it like that, it is not hard to see how bidding for football clubs might be addictive/a good smokescreen/useful advertising/worth a go (delete as applicable).

We picked Chris Kirchner, Dozy Mmobuosi, William Storey and Thomas Zilliacus this time, but if there are any streaming giants reading, we could flesh out…

Scene One: Derbyshire

“Don’t send me flowers when I’m dead. If you like me, send them while I’m alive.”

The graveyard is set back from the main road. Its residents, you suspect, might never have realised they would be in the presence of greatness. Down the path, past the war memorial, through the gates and, tucked away to the right, look for the daffodils.

There is nothing showy about the gravestone for Brian Clough and his wife, Barbara. It is not the biggest in the churchyard. You might even miss it were your eyes not drawn to that bloom of bright yellow.

He always loved daffodils, Brian. And, on his walks with Barbara, he liked to serenade her with one of his favourite songs, Jimmy McHugh’s “On the Sunny Side of the Street”. The final line of his epitaph, embossed in gold on the black granite, feels like one last piece of typical Clough.

“Walking Together In The Sunshine,” it says.

It will be 30 years next Monday since Clough took charge of his last league game and, even if his story deserved a happier ending, there was a lot of sunshine while he sprinkled his precious magic over, first, Derby County and then Nottingham Forest.

Clough lived in a beautiful white house, The Elms, in the village of Quarndon, among the rolling countryside of Derbyshire’s Amber…