More so than Millwall even, Gillingham at home was when the now disbanded boys of 2015 reached their spectacular zenith, blowing away the Kentish farm hands in 45 outer-worldly minutes of a supposed top-of-the-table showdown. God I was stupid back then.We’ll be top until the end of the season now, is what I text my Gills supporting uncle. In my defence, anyone who witnessed the part-man, part-gazelle Jacob Murphy gallop through what, at one point, resembled Gillingham’s defence – as if it were no more than a moist cloud – would have struggled to disagree with me.