Wembley in November is a dull, gristly place, 74,000 people here more out of duty than desire, but a few glistening, unimpeachable moments still pierce the rain-flecked stupor. Bukayo Saka flicks and flitters down the right wing, then whips a deft volley across goal with a casual brilliance. Jude Bellingham returns and immediately starts doing superhero stuff, box-crashing and retrieving cats from burning buildings. Fresh from the bench, Eberechi Eze gambols round Andrija Živković, before flicking a Phil Foden through ball first-time as though shepherded by fate.