THE essential nature of Liverpool-United clashes dictates something: they should never produce one-sided hammerings.

SO much for the predicted stroll in the Pride Park. Saturday was much hairier than desired and constituted another wayward performance to add to the growing list of such underwhelming shows since Christmas.

MY esteemed colleague Mr Azulay will doubtless explain alongside this column how his Wonder Boys can slay European Champions one day then allow themselves to be turned into chump pies at Wigan but the Rubicon is thus crossed: somehow, after a weekend during which we quite frankly embarrassed ourselves, suddenly the Title is now in our own hands, not theirs.

SO, did we get safely through last night?

THERE’S nowhere better to go than the North-East when we’ve had a bit of trouble his season, it would seem. After the Christmas party scandal, a dreadful Sunderland compliantly rolled over to help us cover the wounds; now, after the alarmingly poor show and lucky escape in Lyon, wretched Newcastle duly played the patsy.

GREETINGS from Lyon where, as I write on a Tuesday morning, the Rhone is sparkling in warm spring sunshine, the first aperitif of the day is agreeably enlivening, and we are still chuckling over the spiking of the Gunners on Saturday.

TWO things I never thought I would live to see happening on one day — City fans behaving like old school gents, and the Blues winning at Old Trafford.

ONE of the English tabloids did an amusing back page for once on Saturday, based on a picture of United players waiting for their train at Macclesfield, all hooded-up.

YOU can always tell the state of Man United corporate thinking from the ever-revolving and allegedly player-distracting pitchside ads at Old Trafford.

BEFORE I start: tell me, is it my turn to manage Newcastle United yet? No? Ah well, back to the day job, then.