Might as well get it out of the way, not unlike a visit to the dentists.

Or maybe this is part of the problem? Defeatism v rabid optimism that results in not a single win there in sixteen years of this century so far.

When it comes to timing this particular fixtures is about as well timed as a weekday wedding. How’s that for a positive opener? Read on for more of the same and some customary cheap stereotyping of those we don’t share a city with.


Going into this season – no scratch that: manager – defining week we were hoping for more of a foundation that two draws against Watford and Southampton, which was our last two opponents in the 1984 Cup Final which helped turn a talented young team into world beaters. When Evertonians look to the future they tend first of all to look to the past for the sequences of events to mimic. But then that’s merely recurrence when usually it’s entirely new sequence of events and therefore new history to be wrote.

That’s a bit heavy so let me put it in simple terms: we’ve not won a trophy for 21 years and when we next do it’s largely unlikely that it will be spurred by a crap back pass thus becoming a springboard for us bossing things. Football doesn’t work like that these days where resources is king, excluding anomalies like Leicester who’ve I’m particularly looking forward to previewing to see if I can get as many offers of straighteners as the reverse fixture by asking simply “where is Leicester?”, even though they’re on the cusp of a league title win.

So it’s in that spirit that I start previewing Liverpool by – sorry for the rabid amongst you that I drink with – separating the scouse kopites and the non scouse kopites for while they share the same love of the spawny unwashed sympathy solicitors, there is a significant difference.


Chances are if you’re local born then you will have grown up with more than a few sound kopites in your social circle, and even your family.

It’s easy in the modern partisanship of internetworld to choose the weird few and highlight them as representative of them all but it’s true – there’s many sound kopites out there and 99% of them are all with a scouse accent and – strike me down royal blue Gods – I drink with a handful of them and call them close friends. Yes they will have their moments of sensitivity when you’re tearing into them – Hi Dave – but on the whole they’re good eggs. I just swerve talking about footie with them too much because there’s a simple difference.

That difference is that Evertonians are more than happy to lay the boot into the club, manager and players whereas they’re very reluctant. It’s almost like a religious respect and I don’t doubt you’ve spotted it. We’re more than happy to admit we are turd whereas a lot of them have some weird aversion to any criticism of the cult of LF and C, I’m sure you’ve picked up on it. And exploited it.


So with that obvious disclaimer and filter out of the way, let’s get down to what the six readers of these try-far-too-hard previews read them for: what utter bells we’ve facing next.

See that welcome the coach thing in with flares and banners? If you’re so famous then why are you acting like a jarg Galatasaray? It’s a football game you scrotes and if you waste more than one minute in the pub than transat to the ground then you’re doing it wrong. It also stinks too much of LOOK AT US LAD and that’s a common kopite theme. The underlying cause of that being acute insecurity, once were relevant and not so much now.

Why not stick to something you’re good and original at? Like scarves above the head in complete choir before the game? You actually own that stuff. And massive cryptic banners that that read like those inspiring memes that Americans love and lash all over their social media. But they communicate actual tosh if you read them in a calm manner. Aquilani, a hero will rise, you mushroom cocked home counties scruffy bellwipe.


The full kit phenomenon has been well documented and they’re truly the market leaders in cringe for the entire sphere of professional football. As if the sauna eyed appearance at the mention of Shankly, as though football didn’t exist before the crease faced Scottish rent a quote beaut turned up in an L postcode.

Still, he sat his days out at Goodison, and that’s a telling synopsis of Libberpewlfubbelklub. Because jarg sentimentality can never be allowed to get in the way of the next opportunity to make reflected glory, and to gloat.

And this is where the assessment of the fanbase of big red ends, because that’s what it’s all about, To gloat. To bask in reflected glory. To post YNWA after every sentence you make because that’s your only sense of belonging. To sneer at other clubs because once you was boss, and what a team it was, between forty and twenty five years ago.


As much as we have to face our inner shithouse for not winning at Anfield this century, so it rings true for them not winning a league title in over a quarter of said century. Absolutely madness with the money and resources they’ve thrown at it.

Xabi lar doh. Istanbul. Fowler as God. White suits before cup finals like utter quilts. Graeme Souness. Dalglish spewing it after a cup draw. Late eighties domination (I rate their 88 team as the best of all their teams, Dave Beasant though). Sammy Lee. Phil Neal and spawning European wins. Paisley – a good man. Shankly got it. Big Ron Yates and red shorts instead of white.


There’s your Liverpool. Not if you’re reading this in Truro, it’s nothing, you fat hank. You’re clinging on because of a low sense of self esteem and identity, hope for some reflected glory. Something you could could never level at non scouse Evertonians. While you’re at it put the camera phones away at corner flags you cringey biffs. And stop trying so hard: you’ll never ever get it.

Onto the players and manager. At present I’m currently searching for ways to ridicule Jurgen Klopp, I have a few ideas but am gonna swerve him over until next season when the evidence is more conclusive.

In keeping with previous previews, here’s a list that offers little insight:


Benteke, boss big striker that is ruined there as he can’t do sufficient step overs and self loathing to enable one wool on the kop to say to another wool on the kop “he’s boss him lad”. I’d sign him with the Lukaku money.

Sturridge: deserves his head kicked in for being a grown male and thinking them celebrations are compatible with anywhere in an L postcode.

Firmino – vastly overpriced little favela boy, payable by the hour. Knuckle tattoos may wash in Woolton but they don’t deter in Walton. You’re a little fist.

Lallana – every final jigsaw piece ever for the last twenty odd years. How much? Looks like he should be chasing dizzy student bints from outside the city in Heebies on a Tuesday night with two buttons undone because he’d get bullied in Concert Square or Mathew Street.


Can – shithouse of the highest order, a laughable Matalan version of Xabi Alonso that they’re clinging to.

Lovren – HES BOSS NOW DOH LAD ISNT HE? Segundo Castillo scored for us, in Europe, too once. Plus lay off the scouse accent and spelling, you’re from Cornwall you scruffy texans.

Flanagan – the exact looking lad you’re happy to see talking to your bird when you’re back from the bogs in Rubber Soul.

Milner – human porridge and not one atom more.

Mignolet -plays in goal like he’s permanently inhaling a bottle of rush.

We won’t beat them, you know the drill by now. So let’s look at Everton.


Absolutely no idea who we’ll play so it’s difficult to try and second guess. We’re assured Martinez is taking it seriously so we’ll hope for a competent team that will scat it’s pants less than normal. That Moyes weakened team Gerrard hat trick combination before a quarter final still haunts me. That was the day I jibbed it with wanting Moyes to stay at Everton.

I presume Lukaku will play and if so we need the most clinical of him, a la Chelsea in the cup, because he’s one of the few things we have that can win it, and because the alternative is Kone and/or the lesser spotted Niasse and that’s not probably the best way to snide an unlikely Anfield win.


Barkley will probably play behind whoever is up front and will hopefully pass the ball less to the opposition than Osman did, although it’s pretty evident Barkley is affected by the confidence of the support more than most, so hoping that he doesn’t spew the chance of a local lad to make a mark on a Merseyside derby.

Or maybe Martinez will go for his extreme measure comfort blanket of Besic, McCarthy and Barry in centre midfield? Who knows? But it’s a worry that our most consistent option there is a latter year Barry.

I have no idea who will play out wide so I suppose we’ll have to see on the day but whoever plays against that overpriced lump of spunk Clyne needs to run him good and proper. Deulofeu I’d go for but he’s looked toilet the past couple of games, and who gives one over who I think should start?


Defence could be a problem in that individually there’s things to admire about Funes Mori and Stones, if they’re alongside a wiser old head, like Jagielka for example. Not sure of the captain will make this one but if not it’s show or tell for the two centre backs.

Same sadly for the full backs who will be Baines and one more, a replacement for the hamstrung formerly ace attacking full back known as Seamus. We’ll see. Just as we’ll see if one of our keepers is capable of giving a performance at Anfield more than a decade since the last one did, in Nigel Martyn.


So that’s a preview of certain pessimism, as I referenced at the start perhaps this isn’t the best approach. A little belief goes a long way.

I’m not privy to the inner workings of Everton FC so have no inclination if Roberto Martinez will be the man to lead the club next season.

If he truly wants to then I’m sure he can’t miss the opportunity afforded by two big games in 72 hours. Maybe it’s beyond him. Maybe there’s ace days ahead to anticipate yet we don’t realise it? Maybe it’s the hope that kills you?


Even going to the dentist has a happy outcome, it stops the pain. Or makes you prettier. We’ll take the former right now.

What’s our name?

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