THE dream is over, what can I say? I chickened out of following my Craven Cottage ‘routine’ last Wednesday, so blame me if you want. It was part laziness, part resignation to our fate, part ‘do they even make straightjackets in my size’.

AND relax… 18-4. Eighteen freaking four. Those numbers will be rattling around every red skull during the next 12 months at least.

THIS is how it feels to be in a title race; constantly winning yet eternally disappointed. It’s been a while obviously, but it feels strange.

BE careful what you wish for. All I’d wanted was to make Chelsea twitch a little bit and a few extra fixtures for United, but am I happy? Take a guess.

AT LEAST we can concentrate on the league.

IT’S all over, apparently. It’s fair to say the media has been a little patronising of late, like United were the dad and Liverpool the toddler: “ah, you wanna race me little fella? Okay. Look at you going full pelt, ooooh, you might just beat me” etc.

EXCITING times. It’s no surprise when some things get lost in the effervescent swirl and this column is no exception.

YOU can’t turn on the telly or open a paper this week in England without seeing Brian Clough’s face smirking at you. ‘The Damned United’ has just opened here.

TO recap: we’re out of the title race, the manager has lost his mind and is angling for a move to Madrid, we’re too negative, the referees are in United’s pocket and this is their best squad ever.

I’VE had better weeks. Of course there was always a trophy or two at the end of them.