Pathé News presents...
THE VIEW FROM THE TERRACES
Liverpool Football Club v Chelsea of London
During the war, I used to bunk off me 'paper round and share intimate moments with hobos in exchange for train tickets, just so I could travel the land to watch my beloved Reds.
And what a team it was. Alf Woodbine, Gerry Nipples, Harold Mucus, Marlene Dietrich: heroes all. And not forgetting our foreign import, Alec Sporran. Bill Shankly described them as
'gnats' 'giants', and that great man was never wrong. We won the chuffin' lot. But now, football is what Shanks described as 'shit' and I fully agree with him. Entirely coincidentally, football became shit the very moment that Liverpool stopped winning things. My arl fella would turn in his grave if he'd lived to witness a Nivea-covered Disco Dan like Jordan Henderson captaining the mighty Reds; even in this twatty Age of Stats, Henderson's numbers paint a sorry picture:
Jordan Henderson versus
Liverpool Chelsea:
0 goals 0 tackles 0 passes 0 shots 5 times
Our Dad would've spat his false teeth out at the radiogram in impotent fury. And another thing - how come everything's bloody 'metric' these days? Why can't I buy a bag of gobstoppers without having to become a Frenchman? Is Cilla still at number 1?
*14 hours later*
Well, that's all from me on yesterday's match. You can take a look at my small column after next week's Fairs Cup ties. GGMU.