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Steve Nicol was a throwback.

He drank, he smoked, ate crisps by the box rather than by the bag - but played football to such a elite level that he was voted Footballer of the Year in 1989.

He also played in five league title winning teams, won three FA Cups and the 1984 European Cup. A Liverpool legend.

So while Gary Gillespie said: “I’ve never seen a fella smoke and drink so much and still be so fit. He was a freak of nature,” Alan Hansen added: “He never carried any excess weight, hardly missed a tackle and gave the impression of being able to bomb up and down that right touchline forever. Suffice it to say that after our first match together on the right, I thought, ‘Where have you been all my life?’ “

Nicol has now chronicled that life in his autobiography “Five league titles and a packet of crisps.”

Here are the first two parts of our serialisation...

The Dundee ding-dong – Macca vs Brucie

I’m not going to pretend that everything was always perfect at Liverpool. It wasn’t. Arguments took place in the dressing room, as I’m sure they do at clubs the world over, and there was the odd occasion when things threatened to get out of hand. As they did at a hotel in Dundee in February 1989

The initial plan after the game was for the lads to hit the town, but a huge rainstorm put paid to that idea. It was impossible to go outside without getting utterly drenched, so the squad set up base for the night at the hotel bar. Usual stuff; taking the piss out of each other when all of a sudden – after about ten pints – all hell broke loose.

I was sitting with Steve McMahon and Barry Venison and a few others when an argument about shopping, of all things, got out of hand and things got pretty heated pretty quickly. Bruce stepped in and tried to split Steve and Barry up but Macca told him to mind his own fucking business. So Bruce stuck the head on Macca – properly nutted him – and there was blood everywhere. Our goalkeeper then disappeared and our midfielder was left running around looking for ice.

With Bruce concerned that Macca would come looking for revenge, he decided to try and swap rooms to secure a better hiding place. Initially he was in with Craig Johnston before I stupidly agreed to accommodate him because I had a room to myself. Bruce took himself off to bed and, I thought, took the sting out the situation by doing so. How wrong I was.

About an hour or so later, I went upstairs. I opened the door in the room and there was nobody there, at least that’s what I thought at first. Then I put the light on and found Bruce sleeping on the floor between the two beds. He’d put pillows in his bed to make it look like he was in there, but instead was using my pillows to ensure his comfort on the floor.

His explanation was just as bizarre as his antics and it went something like this: “If Macca finds out I’m in this room and gets a key then he’ll think I’m in my bed because of the pillows and then he’ll jump on me and attack me but really I’m not in my bed so he won’t be able to attack me because I’m actually on the floor!”

Around half past three, there was a loud bang outside our room followed by someone trying to break the door down. It was Macca. He had knocked over a lamp in the corridor and was now trying to persuade Bruce to come out of the room. This is the point where our stories differ.

Bruce claimed that he hid in the bathroom while I opened the door then watched Macca enter the room. He says he then tapped Macca on the shoulder before smacking him across the nose for the second time that night.

Now, Bruce has been known to tell a tall tale or two over the years and most of them I would take with a pinch of salt, including his version of events in this one. For a start, this particular incident happened in February 1989, not October 1987 as he claims, because Macca wasn’t even in the squad for that trip to Dundee. Secondly, there was no way on God’s green earth that I was going to open the hotel room door to a revenge-seeking madman in the middle of the night!

Heavy snow the following day meant the journey back to Liverpool took a lot longer than it should have done, but at least with Macca and Bruce at opposite ends of the bus there was no chance of a repeat of the shenanigans from the night before. The snow got progressively worse and shortly after Penrith the bus came to a stop, along with every other vehicle on the M6. We were going nowhere. Worst of all we’d run out of beer.

Remembering that a Tennent’s Lager lorry had passed us, slowly, a few minutes earlier, I figured it would also be stuck and therefore couldn’t be too far along the road. So I volunteered to get out, put on my club jacket and wander off down the motorway in search of beer.

I must have walked for about ten minutes but the lorry was nowhere to be seen. I soon realised the predicament I was in. It was snowing and I was freezing so I did an about-turn and headed back. Staying alive was slightly more important than returning with a few cans of lager.

Fifteen minutes later I still couldn’t find the bus and was beginning to panic. I was in the middle of a snowstorm and my body temperature was getting progressively colder. Eventually I spotted Helmut, our driver, and was never as happy to see him as I was then!

Crystal Palace 1990 – blue movies and Mrs Ablett’s flaming hair

Having beaten Crystal Palace 9-0 at Anfield in September, and 2-0 at Selhurst Park in January, we were pretty confident of beating them again in the FA Cup semi-final at Villa Park in April. I was injured and didn’t travel with the official party, but there was another bus leaving from Anfield to take the wives, reserves and club staff to the game so I travelled down on that one and enjoyed one or two beverages along the way.

For the first fifteen minutes or so, the bus was pretty quiet so I went down to the front with a pile of music tapes to try and persuade the driver to put them on. About an hour later I asked the driver to change the tape. On the way back to my seat Glenn Hysén’s wife, Helena, stopped me. “Did you enjoy those videos you borrowed from my husband?” she asked.

I could feel myself turning a bright shade of red. I had borrowed some blue movies from Glenn a couple of weeks before and I had absolutely no idea he had told her.

“Um, yes, thanks,” I mumbled, before scarpering to the back of the bus as quickly as I could. Needless to say, I didn’t bother asking for the music tape to be changed during the remainder of the journey. I kept my head down and arrived in Birmingham well-oiled as I took my seat in the stand at Villa Park.

Liverpool battered Palace in the first half and should have been further ahead than the one goal lead we had at half-time. The second half turned into an absolute nightmare – Mark Bright equalised within a minute of the restart and we ended up losing 4-3 after extra-time.

Prior to the game – and no doubt thinking we would win – Kenny had organised a post-match meal at the Mandarin Chinese Restaurant on Victoria Street in Liverpool for the players and their wives. After the incident on the bus I was more than happy to see that Helena and Glenn Hysén were absent from proceedings. I was in no mood to answer any awkward or inappropriate questions in the presence of my wife.

I ended up sitting beside Gary Ablett’s wife at the time and after the meal (washed down by several bottles of beer) I was lighting up a cigarette at the table while, at the same time, staring at Debbie Ablett and her huge lion’s mane of hair. Like a child, I was fascinated by it. Then, for some inexplicable reason, I decided to see what would happen when I put my lighter next to her rather large mop…WOOOOOOFFFFF!!!

It went up like a ball of flames. I started bashing her on the head with my hands to try and put the fire out. “What the hell are you doing?” enquired Gary, understandably, with more than a hint of anger in his voice.

Thankfully, I was able to stop the flames before they caused too much damage. At least that broke the ice after the disappointing result earlier in the day.

Stevie Nicol 5 League Titles And A Packet Of Crisps, RRP £18.99 only £16.99 on sportmediashop.com or by calling 0845 143 0001.Steve will be signing his new book at Waterstones Liverpool One Saturday 10th September 12pm.