All over old London town the shops and train stations are busier than ever before. Is it the Christmas shoppers swelling in number?
No, it’s the extra store detectives and ticket inspectors that have been drafted in to protect the capital.
Feed the Scousers, do they know it’s Christmas time on earth? Oh yes, it’s the bin dippers indoors.
We’ve got Jermain Defoe, you’ve got are stereos. I’m half tempted to laugh off a PreMatch Prattle and discuss at length, the death of the chant.
The two that I’ve referenced there are cracking examples of the root cause of gradual evanescence of the terrace songs. Yes, we no longer have terraces, but perhaps a bigger issue is that we no longer have songs. As per AVB’s wise words, we is us. Man. Humans. The last vestiges of football chants are penned to the beats of tunes written, in some instances, before the second world war.
I haven’t carried out a definitive study, but the most modern tune used at grounds by us – that I can think of – is ‘Who Let The Dogs Out?” and that song will soon be 14 years old. You need to go to a pawn or charity shop if you want to see a stereo. Band Aid was 1984.
To business. Looking at the form of the last 6 games for us and them, believe it or not, there’s little in it. Liverpool are 2 points better off. They are, in fact, only 3 points above us in the league.
However, the permanently hard done by, high pitched, junkies of both grief and smack are a veritable goal machine. 34 for goals they’ve scored so far this season. Against our 15. Which only bloated to 15 by dint of 4 scored in our last 2.
And so that’s your game preview.
The chalkboard is ambitious. I can’t see André dropping Dawson. If I have one fear, it’s the ever present angst of Suarez either cheating us out of a penalty or being gifted one by a stupid tackle.
If the boss only has 60 seconds to talk to the boys prior to this, then he must spend it telling them to to stay wide awake when they’re anywhere near him. I can live with moments of determined brilliance from the bitch with the offside teeth, I can’t cope with naivety when it comes to a habitual cheat.
Man the ticket barriers, keep one eye on the CCTV. The Scousers are coming.
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