I can't be arsed to dissect that performance and anyone that can be arsed frankly needs their head wobbling.
So, what next?
I'll tell you what we do next.
People mock the League Cup, they say it's a "Mickey Mouse" trophy, but you tell me that they don't envy us right now. You tell me that, and I will laugh right in your face. Heartily. I will double over, pointing at you, and I will emit a noise that sounds similar to, but isn't necessarily, "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA". I might even cackle. Yer tit.
It's been a rough old season, for reasons that mainly lie off the pitch. It's been a rough few years, for reasons that mainly lie off the pitch. Let's forget all of that.
Let's take this and let's push on the league. We're guaranteed a place in Europe now, but we shouldn't settle for that. Let's push on and let's get fourth.
Let's win the FA Cup. feck Spurs, feck Chelsea, feck the lot of them.
Obviously, in referring to the FA Cup I've had to leave someone out. Because they're not in the FA Cup. Because we knocked them out. Erm, where was I? Ah, yes. I simply cannot allow that to happen, so here we go. feck the twats down the M62 who right now will be reciting their pre-prepared lines about "delusional Scousers" and how this trophy doesn't mean anything. Let them sing about us at Old Trafford like the pitiful obsessive quims they are. feck them like Ron Jeremy at a vagina convention.
There are people in this country that would love nothing better than to see us fail. They hide behind their big, respectable newspapers and they make a mockery of sports journalism. Some of them hide behind their small, disgusting little rags, and they snipe at us with barely-concealed venom and they spew bile. Well, feck them and all. They'll be absolutely gutted tonight.
This is what this club exists for. We exist to win. And we have won today, and make no mistake, we will continue to win.
To summarise:
Get.
The.
feck.
In.