Due to the hyper sensitivity around football at the moment, I’ll review recent events with the delicacy of Edward Scissorhands knocking one out.
We visited Anfield, home of our favourite neighbours for a jolly affair. Before the match there were Hillsborough related silences, balloons and flowers. All was handled respectfully by both sides and the entire match carried on in the same vein really. The highlight of the 1st half was when Jimbob Shelvey slipped and accidentally caused pain to Jonny Evans. Jimbob, being the respectful young man he is, volunteered to leave the field of play and while heading for the tunnel he screamed “I’M SORRY FOR LOWERING THE TONE!” in the direction of Sir Alex Ferguson. At half-time, the players served each other orange quarters and dilute squash before wishing their opponents all the best for the 2nd half. Almost as soon as the match had resumed, that delightful chap and friend to DJs worldwide, Steven Gerrard gave the home side a 1-0 lead and Manchester United players, fans and most notably manager applauded with aplomb. Five minutes later, and wanting to keep things pleasant, the plucky scousers stepped aside to allow Rafael to curl in a lovely goal and make it 1-1.
The next half an hour passed by with little to mention with the exception of the clumsy Liverpool kit man. He was at fault for Jimbob’s unfortunate 1st half-slip and also many occasions that saw the little saint Suarez accidentally slip to the floor, wave his arms around while trying to get back to his feet and occasionally cover his face in embarrassment at his predicament. The poor allocation of studded footwear was evident already but then confirmed when Glen Johnson slipped and first pushed his arms into the back of Tony V then fell to the ground and accidentally tripped our beast. Mr Halsey awarded a penalty although I’m sure Fergie would have turned it down in the name of respect had that been an option. Up stepped RVP and thinking how sad it must be for the kid playing football that never gets a touch of the ball, he decided to hit it close enough for Pepe to touch it but hard enough to win the match. Full-time 2-1 to Manchester United against Liverpool at Anfield, oh boy was it a celebration, a few of the scousers ran about with their arms stretched wide like giddy children until they got dizzy and were escorted to sit down and catch their breath. To continue the respect filled solidarity a section of the away fans sang “murderers” referencing their disgust at the South Yorkshire police.
That’s it for this week; I’ve got to write a letter to my pen pal on Merseyside. Bebe bless you, each and every one.
John George Terry, the cheeky scamp:
I too am mindful of the furore surrounding this topic so unusually I will be displaying the tact and sensitivity of a mistle thrush tip tap tapping at the frozen water in an ornamental bird bath on a raw but bright winter’s morn. John Terry was found guilty of racially abusing Anton Ferdinand yet received just a 4 match ban. He was also fined a week’s wages apparently £220,000. Sounds a hefty fine, yet if a paperboy had been the perpetrator his £7.50 fine would seem paltry. Listening to Talksport his morning and hearing Alan Brazil and his monkey butler Ronnie Irani defending Terry almost made me poo with fury, when Tony Cascarino joined them in claiming that it was all “dressing room banter” I nearly crashed the car into a beehive just to teach him a lesson.
Bending Rodgers has been at it again. Despite now overseeing the worst start to a season by LFC since the Mesozoic era he has still seen fit to air some more of his glue influenced views. Bending seems to think Luis Suarez should start diving. Start diving? I completely agree. I also think Apple should start making phones, McDonalds should think about selling burgers and The Glazers should take a few quid out of Manchester United. It does make you wonder about the ozone layer and what kind of condition it is in over Liverpool, just a few months ago Bending was seemingly a sensible chap happily plying his trade in Swansea. Now he seems to be suffering from Dalglish Syndrome, a debilitating illness that affects the frontal lobe and will eventually leave the sufferer unable to communicate with anything but office furniture and salamanders.
In other news Theo Walcott has apparently publicly stated he wants to be a centre forward at Arsenal. I want to be a quality control tasting engineer for Stella Artois at their state of the art production facility in Belgium. Your go Theo?