Leighton Baines is a relic, an icon of days forgotten. He embodies the English spirit of the 60s and 70s. Flowing hair and flowing sideburns, he remember the post war days even though he wasn't alive. He channels Lennon, Clapton, Page, Osgood, Caine, Attenborough and Moon all rolled up into one Anglo-Saxon jam tart. The man is a lion enough for three, he is the three lions, passion, integrity, stiffupperlipness are words that do no justice to the enigma that is Leighton or Lionton as he prefers. To hate Mr Baines is to hate everything intrinsically English, it's to hate beauty incarnate and love the French. Why do you love the French, Alex?