Liverpool Football Club, you horrible fuckers.
If ever a match had me yearning for the casual fandom of somebody who claims to enjoy 'sports,' last night's was it.
You know the lads.
"See the match?"
"Which match was that?"
"The Liverpool match. They were playing Wigan."
"Oh... Ehm... No. No. Was it the FA Vase, sorry, Cup?"
"No, it was the Premier League."
"Really? Wigan are in the Premier League? I thought they were in the fourth division."
"Yeah, I follow the football like but only if there's a big match on, like an Ireland match or whatever..."
"Oh, so you saw the Brazil game last week?"
"Did we play Brazil? Don't know how I missed that. Who won?"
"Of course. I suppose that means we're not going to the World Championships now."
I wanted to be that lad for 108 minutes, including half time, last night instead of the frustrated, bawling, pillow whacking disgrace of a figure that I cut throughout, sucking Lemsip through a straw and keening for the sweet relief of death.