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Football songs are a peculiar thing and often a shared currency among different teams (Man City also sing “Hey Jude” for example). Anthems come and go with time, or with players, and new ones take their place.

Sometimes they last just a game or two but, at the time, completely hit the spot – see the 50 travelling Bees dancing around to “Uwe Rosler dance now” at Tranmere earlier this season for details.

Rarely are they based on disco classics, however, which is why the one below, the one that has occupied my brain for most of this morning, is doomed for failure. Well, it’s one of the reasons anyway.

I disliked the Conga / Gary Alexander song myself for similar reasons. It was a bit unmanly and, if we’re honest, the lyrics were somewhat lacking.

For terrace and pub success a song needs to be a bit more masculine – various versions of the White Stripes Seven Nation Army are sung around the country – our own spin (“we’re the red and white army”) is one of my enduring memories from Stamford Bridge last season. It was better than their rubbish flags anyway.

The charity song “Come on you Brentford”, put together by the Beesotted crew, also features a decent chorus and catchy guitars, which appear to have given it a lot of airplay in pubs and at Griffin Park since it’s release.

But I’ve got previous. Yes, I was there on the boat to Southend when the Rowlands/Rawhide song was lovingly/dunkenly stitched together, but generally, my attempts at terrace anthems have been poor.

I still maintain that my Ijah Anderson infused version of Delilah (“my my my, it’s Ijah”) would have worked if he hadn’t left the club. But I have to admit to defeat on the song dreamt up with my mate Rob in an Ealing nightclub to Rasputin by Boney M (“Ra Ra Robert Quinn, he can kick with either shin”). In the cold light of day it was never going to work. So I bring you to my latest effort, inspired by the goals of Alan Judge.

I don’t think I’ll even sing it myself out loud (I tried it in the shower this morning and the wife banged on the bathroom wall. I think she was complaining but she might have been beating time poorly) but I feel a duty to share it with you all.

The Alan Judge Song (to the tune of Agadoo. Yes, I warned you it was bad):

Alan Judge, Judge, Judge,
Scoring goals from 30 yards,
Alan Judge, Judge, Judge,
He can kick the ball dead hard,
Dribbles left, dribbles right,
Sometimes puts it through their knees,
We can dance every night,
Cos he plays for Super Bees.

I’ll get my coat.