OH fuck off, are you fucking messing, are you deliberately trying to ruin Christmas you soft cunt.
“We’re defending really well at the moment, we’ve been solid.”
Simon Mignolet has hailed Liverpool’s “solid” recent performances.
The moment that dough-faced idiot allowed his mouth to utter “defending” and “really well” the cheque was well and truly in the post.
Seriously lad, shut the fuck up.
What is it about our defence keeping a few clean sheets and believing they’re Arrigo Sacchi’s AC Milan?
And even if they do, for all that is holy keep it in house because the moment one of the divvies engages a microphone you’re invoking the law of “being made a cunt of”.
Albie Moreno, great all season, talks before Sevilla, what happens?
Degsy Lovren, the week of Spurs away, speaks out, woe betide…
Is it a masochism thing? Self flagellation?
What is it about us recording, on paper at least, creditable draws away from home that leave the natives furious?
How many other sides in Europe could travel to Sevilla and Arsenal and score three goals?
How many sides having seen themselves two and three up respectively come away with only a point in each fixture?
Talk about an attitude for self destruction.
What grates just as raw is the shrug of the shoulders attitude to it all, the “well what did you expect” on the pitch from the usual suspects, especially the goalkeeper.
Mistakes from the youngsters you can forgive, but when the usual suspects let you down time and time again without recrimination and then have the audacity to shout from the rooftops for actually doing what they’re paid to do every so often leaves the sourest of tastes.
I’m still trying to figure out what he was trying to do for Arsenal’s second, was he feeling overcome with Christmas spirit? Did his left arm suddenly develop momentary paralysis?
This Liverpool back four, the goalie especially, are great at talking the talk, but how many times are we going to come a cropper before he walks the walk and fucks off?
Five years Mignolet has been at Liverpool, and it’s about time someone told him the turkey was cooked, the Christmas-ruining divvy.