A couple of days may have passed since Brentford’s glorious Carling Cup victory over Everton but the warm feeling still remains.

The Bees were good value for their win over a full strength Premiership side and deserve all the credit that comes their way.

To a man they were brilliant, with Karleigh Osborne and goalkeeper Richard Lee the standouts, but one individual who should hang his head in shame is that angry moron David Moyes.

Dressed in a dreadful tracksuit, perhaps in a vain attempt to endear himself to the Scousers behind the goal, he charged at the ref to rage about God knows what at full time.

After the game he then went off on one, complaining about the end at which the penalties were taken and the fact that a bottle was chucked at the Everton fans by one of the Brentford pitch invaders.

If this incident did happen it should be deplored, but it’s surprising that, despite being the owner of a pair of hideous bug eyes which surely don’t miss much, Moyes failed to spot that a fair few objects were being hurled from the Everton end as well.

By spouting off about the bottle throwing he was obviously trying to deflect criticism and to an extent it worked as some of the pun-tastic headlines and stories about the Bees stinging Everton were usurped, with our good name being dragged through the mud.

It was an unnecessary and sour post-script to a superb night – a night I came dangerously close to missing out on.

Before the match, after parking up, my brother and I wended our way towards Griffin Park and all was fine and dandy.

Until we approached the turnstiles, that is. My brother suddenly exclaimed: “Where’s our flipping tickets?”, except he didn’t use the word “flipping”.

“What the hell are you talking about?” came my snappy reply, except I didn’t use the word “hell.”

As we left the car I had seen him pick up the envelope containing the tickets and put it in his back pocket – but at this moment it was nowhere to be seen. My shame-faced and panicking sibling beat a hasty retreat back across the Ealing Road and down Green Dragon Lane where, thank Christ, he discovered the sacred envelope fluttering safely on the kerb.

We can laugh about it now, of course, but if we had missed what will surely go down in history as one Brentford’s greatest ever cup wins then I’m not sure that I could have brought myself to speak to my brother again. Ever. (And I really mean that, Mum).