My trip to Oakwell to watch Barnsley FC with my grandson - Ian McMillan

This is often the way in films or books: someone is introduced and the viewer or reader invests a smidgeon of time and interest in them, but then they wander out of the paragraph and are never seen again.

This is often the way in films or books: someone is introduced and the viewer or reader invests a smidgeon of time and interest in them, but then they wander out of the paragraph and are never seen again.

Here's a closeup of Ian buying a programme and a half-time draw ticket. He gives Noah the programme and he keeps the ticket.

Noah is convinced that this will be the week that they win, and Ian smiles indulgently because he’s been buying the half-time draw ticket for decades and he’s never won a penny. Still, Noah, this might be the week. Yes, it might. Is this a teaser for something that might happen later in the film? Sadly not.

Here's another wide shot, this time from above, of Ian and Noah in the queue to get their season tickets scanned and then walk in. In some ways this is the part of the afternoon that Ian and Noah like best; the day is full of promise.

The ball hasn’t been kicked yet. Nobody has scored. This might still be the best game in the history of football. Well, in the history of League One football. Ian and Noah walk towards their seats in the East Stand Lower Tier.

Now it’s time for a teaser of something that will become important later on: Noah, as ever, says he’s warm and so he unzips his coat and carries it. If there was music in this film there might be a bit of doomy bass-driven electronic music now. Just a hint of, not menace exactly, but the sense that something might go a little bit wrong.

The game starts and frankly, from a Barnsley point of view, it’s not that great. The opposition score via a ludicrous own goal. Barnsley don’t seem to know what to do and, worse, the sun is in our eyes so everybody in the East Stand Lower Tier seems to be saluting.

The short film takes a (literary) dark turn now, as the sun goes in and the fans stop saluting but it goes cold, really cold, so Noah puts his coat back on and zips it up.

Or, and now there is more of that dark and doomy music that I mentioned earlier, he tries to zip it up but he can’t because the end of the zip has disappeared.

Now the film is a mystery, a whodunnit. Where is the end of the zip, the bit of metal that makes a zip zip?

There’s a closeup, a tight closeup, of Ian and Noah looking for the end of the zip. Luckily there’s not much happening in the match. Now here’s a tighter closeup and a bit of lighthearted music: there’s the zip bit, stuck in the gap between seat that Noah’s sitting on and the metal frame. And Noah can’t shift it. And Ian can’t shift it.

Suddenly it’s half-time and Ian has no idea how to get the zip bit. Until Noah stands up and the seat tips up and the zip bit falls out.

Triumphant music, please. A happy ending after all!