Trip to Toffees turns from sweet to sour as Rooney and Co out of sorts

I HAVE always loved going to Goodison, despite its situation amidst the Scouse swamp and the obvious dangers for us Reds of being amongst the heathens.

The forebodingly-clad ground looks like a prison from the outside but the surprisingly old-world interior always cheers me up after weeks of trekking around increasingly soul-less new-build bowls. Oh, and we almost always win.

However, what an anti-climax Saturday proved: the much-hyped birthday boy Wayne seemed to have overdone the jelly and ice cream, whilst his playground party pals appeared to be coming down from an E-number high. Berbatov’s Saints Day fell that weekend too, I note, yet he turned in one of his most perversely unholy displays so far in Red. If it hadn’t been for Ryan Giggs’s first-half performance, and Fletcher’s admirable if limited determination throughout, you’d struggle to find anything to praise.