Stan is well aware that this is a website aimed at a weird and wide demographic. The young and the old. The obsessive and the merely browsing. Ladies and gentlemen?.. and, indeed, probably the odd laaaidy to boot.
For this reason he apologies for any offence taken in what follows. Such explicitness probably wouldn't be found in Mick Dennis's column in the Express, but heh! We're a bit edgier than that. We're right down there on the street with the kids, man. We once had a Raleigh Grifter and drank coffee in Snob.
In fact it was probably at about this time that the affliction about to be discussed was at its most common and excruciating.
There, that's done it, Stan can hear the tutting from the disapproving from here! Indeed in other social circles this particular phenomenon may have had a different moniker but, once described, every man out there will remember this particular agony.
It was that painful and all consuming discomfort that followed a three-hour clutch and fumble session in Ritzy which didn't end in the desired… a-hem.. .result! That John Wayne, bow-legged style walk home was utterly excruciating ? It was known affectionately by the boys as having a case of 'blue balls'!
And that is exactly what Stan felt like he had, as he took a rather meandering route to the chosen hostelry after the game on Saturday. Stan was experiencing footballing blue balls.
All that petting and no bloody relief. It was as frustrating as being packed off into the night after three hours of snogging Keira Knightly without so much as a squeeze!
City murdered Leicester; Roeder tried to murder Holloway; and the Foxes keeper committed GBH on Russell. Why Stan isn't waxing lyrical about a 3-0 victory consisting of at least two penalties and a sending-off, he'll never know. Instead he's sitting uncomfortably at his computer telling stories of what might have been.
Stan isn't normally a stats man. The only stat that really matters is the one read out by James Alexander Gordon at five past five, but in this instance it would be interesting to know what percentage of the game was played in the Leicester half. Stan's guessing at about 96%.
We had 13 shots at goal, hit the woodwork twice, literally tore them apart at times, yet still old Jimbo delivered in dulcet tone ?Norwich City ? 0. Leicester City ?.. 0, come the timeless classifieds.
We had two bookings to Leicester's three despite the foul count being City 6, Leicester 21. We hit the back of the net, we fell victim to a seemingly Holloway remote controlled linesman more times than Stan dares remember; yet still 0-0 is in the history books.
Even Holloway seemed slightly embarrassed at 'tucking a point in his top pocket'. In all likelihood Norwich will dominate very few games as totally as this and not emerge victorious.
Begrudgingly, Stan has to admit that Leicester did make it hard. Once they realised that they were going to be taking the role of the Texans in this particular enactment of the Alamo, they built their barricades and dug in behind them for the remainder of the battle.
We created 'enough chances to win two games' once more, yet due to the tenacity of the Leicester rear-guard action none were totally clear cut. A blue shirted combatant was invariably reducing City's advantage by means fair or foul – often ably assisted by the officials.
Donning Stan's critical hat for a moment it is the teams that take these half chances who prosper. It's the difference between Premiership and Championship. Had the City team contained a 29-year-old Dion and a 25-year-old Ched, it would have been no contest.
However at the present time we are reliant on ageing genius and raw talent. Not a bad combination by any means, but not quite enough on days like Saturday.
This slight criticism doesn't disguise the fact that we have come an inordinate distance since those truly dreadful, dark days of Autumn, but Glenn himself is never a man to stand still. He seems to be on a mission of improvement. Improvement of himself, of the players he has around him and subsequently and, thankfully, Norwich City Football Club.
What he has achieved to date is little short of genius. What he may achieve in the future is the stuff of Stan's dreams?. Oh, we're back to blue balls again.
As Stan gingerly heads off to make a cuppa, one quiet word of warning. If City win at St Mary's I wouldn't be standing to close to him if I was you?.it could get a bit messy!