Beef Bagel

Apologies lads ‘n lasses, it’s been a while and it seems I’ve missed some rather exciting times for England fans. Yes, the national team actually won a game in convincing fashion. I’m very pleased to see that it was a team effort, i.e: that it was XI players greater than the sum of their parts rather some cagey affair trying to fit all the Big Four superstars into the same clunky formation. Well, this is certainly what I’m led to believe in the papers and from the well worked goals picked up on the net. Best of all I’m pleased that Fat Frank Lamplard’s going to be warming the bench this evening and crying into his little flabby hands. Long may it continue.

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I haven’t seen this morning’s headlines but judging by the back of yesterday’s Sun it’s going to be the Devilish Benitez’s turn to say what he thinks of Steve McClaren. If you didn’t catch the story it runs something like this:

1) Gerrard has broken foot.

2) Gerrard plays Premiership game with pain killing injection to get him through.

3) Gerrard is allowed to go with England squad on the proviso from his boss to his temporary boss that he is not to play if unfit.

4) Temporary boss sticks two fingers up at Liverpool boss and says ‘Screw you, my job’s on the line. I’ll pump that Scouser full of crystal meth if it’s going to get him on the pitch for 90 minutes.’

Now, normally the only thing I’d like to do with Steve McClaren, the honourable member for Boredomsville, is use him as a slightly talkative door stop but right now, I could kiss him.

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Football was not on my mind. I was just glad to be leaving the Bakery. But going to watch the match while my girlfriend was busy scrubbing my bathroom from top to bottom did feel a little weird. What was I going to do next? Come back after a night down the pub, complain at my dinner and kick in the baby? “Oi, where are my fuckin’ fags?”

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