There’s a heady air of nostalgia surrounding the Premier League today and I for one am getting teary-eyed. It must be time to turn back the clock and have a wibbly-wobbly flashback moment, or at least sit in front of a camera and mention Spangles until somebody pays me.

There were a couple of news items that caught my topical football eye (it also does split-screen, but not until I’ve had three Sambucas) that got me running along Nostalgia Row and made me pine for the days when terraces still smelt faintly of wee and there were indeed terraces. Okay, maybe not that far down Nostalgia Row, although it would explain the teary eyes.

Firstly, Aston Villa have been reported to be ‘prepared to break the bank’ (not difficult, given the financial climate) to sign Michael Owen from Newcastle in January. Taken together with earlier rumours of an Emile Heskey welcoming party in B6 in January, we could be seeing a return of the 2001 England forward line.

How ace would that be, to step back in time to, erm, eight years ago (it will be in January; keep up)? The heady sounds of The Strokes will fill the air above Villa Park. Big Brother will be keeping us all entertained. George Bush will be spreading a wave of optimism all over the planet as we rave on about the latest Nokia with polyphonic ringtones and a new fangled colour screen.

But that’s not all! Hark, do I hear the sound of barrel scraping? Certainly do, as a less-than-reputable rag claims that next season, a team of veterans will be entering the FA Cup in the name of charidee. The idea is that a load of ex-pros (comprising one former megastar and ten blokes that used to play for Rotherham) become ringers for a non-league side and see if they can get through to the third round proper and beyond. (By the way, why is it always ‘third round proper’? As if it’s a fictional cup until that point. Gah.)

Paul Gascoigne, or Lord of Taxbille as he’s currently known, has been linked with this madcap scheme. Just picture it – Des Walker and Paul Gascoigne, on the same team! Tony Dorigo linking up with Andy Sinton is the stuff of dreams. And then there’s Paul Warhurst: will the cheeky scamp play up front or in defence where he belongs?

I can think of at least three non-league sides who’d be happy to drop their own first team for the sake of ninety minutes of belt-stretching nostalgic play. Stuff the future morale, I want to see Roy Wegerle again! Of course, to slake this feeling I could always go and watch the Masters Football or one of the numerous charity matches we play against Argentina, Brazil, or the House of Lords Select XI, but where would be the fun in that? Imagine a tournament where Gary Lineker personally shows Robbie Keane what a real striker looks like! I’d like to see a Tales of the Unexpected tackle that bulge in space-time.

The more I think about it, the more excited I’m getting (not weirdly; that would be bizarre). Having already dug out my Andy Cole videos to mourn the man’s retirement (collection consisting of Manchester United: Beyond the Promised Land with a vandalised cover and a personal blooper reel of Birmingham City pratfalls), I’m in raptures about polyester-mix kits and a time before Coldplay.

Forget Northern Soul revivals, the real money for these fancy-dan billionaires that own the top division is in football nostalgia trips. Coach trips to Elland Road to see Jonathan Woodgate and Lee Bowyer together again. Hyypia and Henchoz, back for good. Who wouldn’t sell their nan’s false teeth to see Bould, Keown, Adams and Dixon together on a revival tour?

It could happen come January. Memory Lane, what a wonderful address. Two signing coups and it’ll be like the last eight years never happened. A time before Abramovich, before Cristiano Ronaldo, before England exited another two tournaments on penalties. Before Strictly Come Dancing and CelebAir. I can see some of you now, nodding and thinking it’s a great idea. Premier League nostalgia weekends – better than Game 39. Actually, I’m copywriting that slogan, because some looney tune Sky producer will probably be mad enough to try it.

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