interfering in any common sense reading of the game. In the same way that Luis Diaz (?) was clearly offside at Anfield when Tarkowski blocked a through-ball to him, which ended up at Djota’s feet and then in our goal. It’s a joke. Clubs fucked with it. Clubs broke it. Clubs have to deal with it.

And the thing is, Liverpool are right - it is criteria based and it doesn’t meet the criteria to be disallowed. But the problem is, clubs like Liverpool have pushed for prescriptive legislation like this to the extent that common sense can no longer be applied. Robertson is clearly offside and

Bear in mind that we’re here because you can’t be trusted to self-officiate with any degree of fairness or integrity, a point you double down on every time you try to cheat us. Sorry about the goal, we’ll have a word. But also - fuck off.

Yours sincerely
PGMOL (Mr)”

single game, in which your players have deliberately ‘gone to ground’, appealed for a decision they knew wasn’t theirs, got into a referee’s face, encroached on a free kick, and deliberately made life awkward in order to gain as many incremental but unwarranted advantages in any given match ever.

Ye gods, he looks like a vacuum-wrapped skull!

Got IDd going into a bar in Melbourne 6 years ago. I was 44. Have dined out on at times.

Yep. A football knobhead. We just didn’t see loads of it because they typically won under him. But he was a shithouse when they lost.

That Moscow gig was insane. And Hetfield’s
voice was absolutely prime.

You’ve never understood me OR my music, and you’ll never be my real dad.

That’s quite the line-up!

Love the fact that at 1:30 it looks like someone blows up one of the cameramen/photographers.

* Can’t.

My mum worked at Dunlop - so while everyone else was wearing adidas kick, I was stuck with green flash. Even now, I can decide if that pegs me as way ahead of the curve or the class foot-dragger.

Went past that a couple of weeks ago when I went to the cat cafe. True, if boring, story.

I went the Ringers and the Moby because I fancied my then-missus, and that’s where she drank.

She’s not gonna shag yer, lad!

St Booiap.

Ace little place, that. A weird mix of wealth, wool and scall.