Very superstitious, but the writing’s on the wall for us

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

Doctors will call it Tinnitus Merseysidus; United level on titles and almost level on European Cups. Our thin veneer of affected aloofness is being stretched into transparency. Before the summer is upon us it will probably be invisible to the no doubt twinkling Mancunian eye.

And you thought never putting in a Premiership challenge was bad? For solace we could think of others less fortunate, but unless they’ve been declared bankrupt and caught swine flu I can’t think of anyone who qualifies. It’s going to be utterly horrible. Football supporters are adept at finding distractions to their pain, and even this eternal sourpuss chuckled once or twice at Chelsea’s European demise.