Watching the Sunday Supplement the day after United get beat is akin to putting one's wang into a roaring flame.* The results are inevitable. Of course, United are in crisis. Of course, every Sunday rag is milking the teat of our defeat 'til the nipple is rawer than the eponymous deal. Liverpool were on the march, even before Villa bent over. According to the back-page swill peddlers, anyway. They would say that.
A resurgent Scouse now find themselves within a point of the Champions at the top of the table. There are no pills this bitter. Though, watching the White Pele (Wayne Rooney, non Shirts folks) dismissed over a disgusting regulation remains the low-light of the weekend. This is a weekend that saw the frustration of Rangers' latest dropped points compounded by Celtic following suit. Well done to Big Kyle Lafferty for that sweet nutmeg, all the same.
This is the part where I jest about no-one caring and the "debate" over whether or not I will continue to write on sport will reemerge. No more. From this day forward, I am adding football to the "untouchables" list. Alongside such classics as patriotism, Irish politics, and various PlayStation 3 matters, it will continue to menace your interest. Without compromise, without readers, and without shame. Thank you, goodnight.
N.B. The Sexiest List is taking longer than expected. Did John Carpenter rush The Thing? No. Pre-production lasted almost a year on that little doozy. Am I comparing myself to golden age Carpenter? No. Will my compendium do for Sexiest Lists what Carpenter did for remakes? Hope that we get to find out. If you don't, there's a very real chance no-one else will.
* I promised, didn't I?
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