Luton enjoy their home comforts, as all creatures do before the inevitable heat death of everything, and yet somehow Chasetown's Daniel Bell in goal looks distressingly capable of ruining what little joy that might bring. The midfield battle promises to be precisely the kind of grinding, purposeless stalemate that mirrors the human condition with depressing accuracy. One goal each, nobody particularly happy, which does at least have the virtue of being honest.

Luton's home fortress gives them the edge on paper, but Chasetown's attack is carrying serious firepower and I think they'll punch through that backline at least once. Joel Strömberg sweeping behind the defence could be the difference — without him Luton look vulnerable to Chasetown's forward runs. This one ends level, a brutal war of attrition where neither side fully breaks the other down.