COME off it, ref! Cards ARE for Christmas.

Thirty-three-year-old Anthony Taylor probably played the Grinch in his school play.

Either him or Ebenezer Scrooge.

He probably gets a chicken instead of a turkey. He probably makes his own presents: for the ladies: raspberry vinegar, pickled shallots and quince-paste membrillo – all delivered in milk bottles individually wrapped in brown paper – and for the men: spiced nuts wrapped in fabric sachets with simple ribbon ties.

Adorning his plastic Christmas tree were his decorations: a selection of chocolate biscuits wrapped in tin foil.

He probably bought all his fellow referees a drink on the Select Group Match Officials office party – a pint of bitter with 18 paper straws.

Am I possibly stretching the point? But it had all started so well.

Jonathan Woodgate received a yellow card inside the first ten minutes.

Not that there should have been any doubt. Woodgate was like a drunk stumbling on a loose paving slab and crashing into a shop window.

He didn’t just foul Matt Jarvis – he executed one of the finest British Bulldog manoeuvres seen anywhere outside an under-11s school playground.

And Taylor also got the game’s second big decision right.

Woodgate (formerly of Real Madrid and not Real Panic) was playing as if he had borrowed Ronald McDonald’s trainers for the afternoon. An outstretched leg and down went Jarvis. Penalty.

But no card.

Fair play to Wolves, only Stephen Ward appeared to momentarily lose the spirit of fair play (for which this great game is so heavily steeped in) and question Taylor’s wisdom.