DON’T get me wrong. At half time in the JJB you won’t have found a smugger smirk than mine.

WE’VE just won seven games out of the last nine, so why the long face? Are we such ungrateful curs? It’s like getting to sleep with Cameron Diaz and moaning about the price of condoms.

IF PICTURES paint a thousand words, find one of Rafa scratching his head and I’ll meet you at the bar.

IT WASN’T supposed to be an interesting week. The Cardiff Cup held few surprises, despite one giant disappointment in the loss of Sissoko.

DID you ever pretend you were a rock star in your bedroom as a kid? Pick up a tennis racket and whirl your arm like Pete Townshend? I broke a thousand light bulbs that way.

I WONDER why we never talk about the lucky Liverpool teams, just the successful ones.

TIME to delete those panic (sorry, PANIC!) headlines. For a week or so at least.

SO a player can now get his transfer by threatening to make mistakes or score own goals?

GETTING politics out of sport is like draining oil out of sand. You’d be better off taking preventative action to stop it getting there in the first place.

SO WHAT’S on today’s menu then? Main course is a steaming plateful of “shut the fuck up” while dessert is a large helping of humble pie.