At City, the coaches recall how they would give him DVDs to swot up on the opposition then realise he was watching Laurel and Hardy movies instead. They remember him being fascinated with the sliding doors at their training ground and driving slowly towards the entrance in his camouflage sports car, mounting the kerb to see how close he could get before the glass swung open. We all know about the scraps, the crashes, the pranks. Everyone remembers him chucking darts from a window at the youth-team players or what happened the night before the Manchester derby when he and his gang started letting off fireworks from the bathroom window (though dont forget he scored a peach the following day).
A part of him, I suspect, will always be that overgrown kid, new to England, who went to John Lewis one afternoon to get an ironing board and came back with a quad bike, a trampoline and a giant Scalextric. It is both his charm and his weakness. The good does outweigh the bad, its just a close-run thing sometimes and Liverpool, as Carragher implied, should bear in mind it could involve some sleepless nights.