THE Reds. Are. Mad.

Seriously, are they taking the piss at this point? That’s now five shithead lower-end Premier League sides that Liverpool have allowed themselves to be embarrassed by since November, while maintaining the best record of anyone against the rest of the top six.

Leicester City had been a laughing stock all season long, forced to suffer the ignominy of falling from champions to relegation fodder in a matter of months. The tactical template which formed the basis of their success last year had been eviscerated by every single team in the division. They were leaking goals and couldn’t score enough of their own.

But then Liverpool turned up. Good ol’ Liverpool. The perfect team to play against when you need a turnaround and want to make a fight of it. It wasn’t the worst performance the Reds have put in so far this season, which might well be the most disheartening thing about it, but it was certainly the one where the result felt most inevitable from the first whistle. At no point during proceedings at the King Power last Monday night did Liverpool have any belief in themselves. They were defeated from the outset.

That was followed by Arsenal on Saturday, and Liverpool may as well have been given all the points at kick-off, such was their palpable determination to succeed and willingness to take risks. If these positive attitude Reds had been knocking about in January, we might still be in a title race rather than aiming for fourth.

Still, they’ll probably get beat by Burnley on Sunday. The inconsistent dickheads.

The Perfect Way to Win

I was born in 1994. I have never seen Liverpool Football Club win a league title.

And the way things are going, I probably never will. But that doesn’t stop me imagining it. Dreaming it. Mapping out the perfect way for it to happen.

I have absolutely no interest in us leading the way from start to finish. I do not want to win it like Chelsea have done this season. I need the danger. The peril. The chastening sense of dread which stops me sleeping at night and occupies every fibre of my being for months on end.

I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking about the perfect goal to win it. Firstly, it must be in stoppage time on the last day. It also must be a home game against Everton. And finally, it must be up there as one of the shittest/jammiest goals ever scored. Thirty-yarder from a talismanic goalscorer? Nope. Bicycle-kick from the edge of the box? Not interested. The ghost of Steven Gerrard with a barnstorming diving header? Just wouldn’t do it for me.

It has to be crap. Proper crap. A recreation of either one of these two will do:

Make no mistake, these are two of the worst goals ever scored in the history of Association Football. They are perfectly abysmal. The joy these two goals give me is stronger than anything a mazy run and finish from Lionel Messi could ever do.

Firstly, the Newcastle one. It truly couldn’t be more comical. What is Mo Diamé even trying to do? Why does he just flick his foot out like that instead of trapping the ball or turning to face goal? I can only conclude that this was deliberate and he was aiming for the top corner.

And then you’ve got PSV’s poor Jeroen Zoet, who ruins his side’s title prospects by pulling the ball behind the line after making a catch. Imagine the shame. Imagine the pain as he realises why the referee is whistling. As he feels the eyes of the entire stadium and millions around the world burning into his skull. As the searing guilt courses through his veins like hydrochloric acid. Zoet’s heart will have been broken by this. He will never be able to love again.

So, yeah, if someone can box it so we beat Everton 2-0 with these exact goals to win the 2017-18 Premier League, that would be grand.

Rooney Set For Blues Return

That’s right, 13 years after deserting the club he supported as a boy, Wayne Rooney is apparently ‘willing to consider’ a return to lowly little Everton. Just as his career appears to be over. And Manchester United want to stop paying him loads of money. And his only other option is China. How very nice of him.

With José Mourinho seemingly certain that Rooney will not figure in his plans beyond the end of this season, rumours are abound that the England captain sent his agent to China last week to sound out a potential move to its money-laden Super League. Rooney would apparently prefer to remain playing at a higher level in European football, but such offers are not forthcoming.

I’d quite like to see him in China, to be honest. Imagine how red and sweaty his face would be. He’d be rendered an almost biologically impossible shade by the humidity, 24/7. He’d probably run even less than he does now. This simply must happen.

Or there is the Everton alternative. I’ve never really understood the clamour from Blues for him to return. As a young player he professed that he would never leave the club, but then happily left them behind as soon as a bigger team came in. He was already an incredibly talented player at Everton, but contributed to no discernible success whatsoever, and wasn’t around long enough to have had any lasting impact. He’s spent the best years of his career away from, but tantalisingly close to, Goodison Park, so quite why they’d want him now that he’s dog shit at footy is baffling to me.

Anyway, I have only three desires concerning the rest of Wayne Rooney’s career:

  1. He never scores against Liverpool again.
  2. He goes bald again for what, by my count at least, will be the eighth separate occasion.
  3. He starts using his Twitter account to post absolute GOLD like he used to a few years ago:

This is the absolute GOAT tweet.

Roy Back in Power


Please. Oh my God. Please. I need this.

Imagine sacking your league-winning manager, the man who delivered unprecedented success, the likes of which you will never experience ever again. Then imagine replacing him with Roy Hodgson.

Quite how the feller’s career isn’t over by now, I’ll never understand. His reputation in this country should be dirt, after leading the national team to one of its worst ever performances in the World Cup, and probably its most embarrassing defeat of all-time against Iceland in the European Championships. That’s before we even get into his disastrous reign at Liverpool, and the fact that the only silverware he’s ever won was in Scandinavia, where he was in charge of teams of part-timers who played on ploughed fields.

If Leicester give him one last job, this must be it. The end. The stake through the heart of the vampire. Even Hodgson surely cannot survive taking the Premier League champions down to the Championship. Arsed about the Reds dicking about over fourth place, this is what I’m pinning all my end of season hopes on now.

Here is the only possible scenario which saves the sanctity of this season: Hodgson joins Leicester. Leicester, Crystal Palace and Sunderland finish in the bottom three. Thus, Hodgson, Sam Allardyce and David Moyes are relegated.

The dream.

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