What the hell happened? I’m really asking...

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.

Oh sorry, that was two weeks ago. Where’s the delete button? What the hell just happened there? I’m really asking. It is after all a mere three weeks since we trudged out of Toxic City speed-dialling the Samaritans. It can’t all be down to Gerrard and Torres surely? We’re swiftly running out of excuses not to regard ourselves as challengers now. The eternally gloomy (God I hate them sooooo much) will find any reason to see nothing but smothering darkness at the end of the tunnel.

Boring football? 13 goals in 3 games and now we’re the league’s highest scorers, United’s goal difference advantage having evaporated.

Distracted by managerial contract stalling? It’s been signed, in Parry’s blood no doubt.

United’s untold riches and unsurpassed squad? It’s too late for money to come to their aid, and if they continue to pick up cards at this rate and Berbatov stays in hibernation… As for referees I think we can put that little whinge to bed. Ferguson may be right, it’s Phil Dowd so that’s what you expect, but there’s a small hint of the officials being mad as hell and they’re not gonna take it any more.

Servile opposition? This popped up on many Red forums as an added bonus for Rafa’s excuseathon. It proves they’re not all robots mindlessly genuflecting to The Manager Cult; they can produce their own preposterous bilge.

Some of what I read about Roy Hodgson defied belief. It’s fine claiming the Old Trafford massacre provides a template we can hand down to the minions, but they don’t all have our dynamic duo do they? Turns out all you needed were Danny Murphy and Bobby Zamora. Who knew? Remarkably I sympathise with Ferguson. 4-1 was slightly flattering and the claims about fiscal imbalance were slightly absurd. Both managers want their heads knocking together, but it all boils down to results in the end.

Rafa made his claims, then didn’t win for a month therefore he was cracking up. Ferguson calls Benitez “weird” and produces his own wildly inaccurate “facts” whilst Rooney says he hates Liverpool (add Dowd and corner flags to the list).

They immediately drop six points, seven if you count the goal difference, and the straightjackets are in the post.

There’s no such thing as “long-term” in football any more. There’s been a small shift in the balance of power; to listen to some it’s 180 degrees and seismic.

Superstitious types certainly regarded Saturday as a turnaround from January 17 when United and Chelsea both scraped late wins. The pressure told on us when we subsequently allowed Everton to equalise.

Sunday by contrast was remarkably relaxed. The early goal always helps and despite the inevitable squandering of possession Villa couldn’t hurt us too much.

Riera, so, so bad in Manchester, was a revelation here. His inability to track back the previous week, kind of important when your left back is dealing with the world’s best player, appeared to have marked his card with the damning verdict “Christian Ziege mk 2”.

But he was exceptional against Villa, easily his best game for Liverpool.

It wasn’t even a cause for concern that Torres barely showed or that the goals dried up when the referee stupidly dismissed the loveable Brad.

Typically Benitez was onto that in a flash and expressed concern afterwards. That’s right, we were five up and Mr Pragmatism wanted more. The world has officially been turned upside down!

“Feet on the ground, stay working hard” was his post-match advice. We fans could do with adhering to line one, but even I’ll confess to a little giddiness at present.

The fans of ordinary teams would treat these last two weeks like a perfect holiday. They would treasure the memories of 12 days of total bliss and would carry them through another 50 weeks of monotonous drudgery.

We are no ordinary football club. This is the beauty and the curse of following the Reds. For once I’m glad the internationals are here. Let the Mancs stew in their own rancid juices, as we behave like anyone else would and revel in three marvellous, spiritually uplifting performances.

But when battle recommences we cannot just settle for this. And we won’t.