The success of the Fifty Shades series revealed a hitherto under-appreciated public appetite for sado-masochism, which may in turn partly explain football’s popularity as a spectator sport. 

For over 40 summers now, I have had one constant priority question on the day the league fixtures are published: “When do we go to Anfield?”

You can say what you like about Louis van Gaal but give him one thing: he’s certainly a man who knows how to make history.

Let’s call it Gwinner’s Law. In 1999, marketing guru Kevin Gwinner of Kansas State University proved the phenomenon of image transfer, writes Larry Ryan.

As an eight-year old, I asked for a football for Christmas. Being a good little chap in those days, I got it. 

Last week, giddy after Piggy’s last-minute bacon-saver at Watford, I allowed myself to write hopefully that a “qualification-clinching evening against PSV would cap five days of United hugely cheering us all up”. Sigh. When will I ever learn?

“No doubt as to the United fans’ hit chant of the autumn so far, then: “Attack, attack, attack!”

Politicians’ stock answers usually make us all groan but I’ve always had a soft spot for one occasionally heard: “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response”.

I’m not sure there’s much point in us gathering here today to celebrate what was arguably United’s most enjoyable performance of the season...

You know the expression “to have your arse handed to you on a plate”?

If you looked out your window early enough this morning, you may have seen a huge red moon rising. Apparently the celestial heavens must be the latest universal merchandising partners of Manchester United, for what better way to herald the long-awaited return of the team to the top of the Premier League?

Sometimes, I switch on A League of Their Own and leave it on for a few short moments.

In my previous column a fortnight ago, on the cusp of transfer deadline day, I held up a stressed Irish Examiner sports editor with a last-minute Sunday evening insertion. “I’ve heard on the grapevine that United might be in Monaco, chasing some French player: Throw in this extra line about it, just in case, would you?”

Louis van Gaal has admitted he does not know if David De Gea will still be a Manchester United player after Tuesday.

Getting in behind the Premier League weekend.

Before Sunday’s game, and perhaps over-giddy from beating a bunch of injury-ravaged second-rate Belgians, LVG tempted fate in a way that reminded me of a showboating lion-tamer sticking his head inside the big cat’s mouth.

Catch up with all the weekend antics from the Premier League in Monday Morning Leftback 

Alex Ferguson’s United became famous for its last-minute dramas of one sort or another, so I daresay the nostalgic will have had their fill over the last week. Fellaini’s tie-saver against Bruges; Woodward’s deal-dropping misadventures in Barcelona; the gasp-inducing Thauvin failing to make anything of Cissé’s cross on Saturday... and what next in Bruges on Wednesday, one might fearfully ask?

If there’s one lesson United fans have long since learned about season openers, it’s not to pay too much attention to first impressions.

"Here we are again, our bright shiny faces upturned hopefully to face another new season’s dawn. Tell your wife summer is officially dead to you, and let’s get our boots on.

There was a time when the great philosophers wrestled with less crucial posers. Stuff like whether the world exists at all outside the mind.

Which foreign newcomer to Old Trafford said this during 2015?

Not so very long ago, some of us were looking forward to this past weekend as being the first under Prime Minister Miliband’s newly-formed government, to be capped by a cracking high-stakes match against our old London enemies.

Any British United fan who remembers 1992, and who is also a Red in politics as well as football, could have been forgiven for suffering some sudden tremors of doubt before the weekend’s matches.

This week, over the water, Britain is agog. What will the nation decide? It’s too close to call: It may even be several weeks before we get a definitive answer to the question in front of us.

Gasp! I’m writing this ten minutes after the final whistle and I can barely type. Not, for once, because I’ve been overdoing the sauce, but because my entire being seems to be buzzing uncontrollably.

When it comes to the subject of the United-Liverpool rivalry, I am often reminded of the phrase "the narcissism of small differences". What must we look like to outsiders?

Premier League

There is a phrase that brings a chill to the spine of governing politicians, imperial generals and football managers alike: "The natives are getting restless".

One of my oldest friends reported a telling exchange with his son on Saturday night.