In lieu of a preview this week, I’m instead going to pay my respects to the best central midfielder the Premiership League has ever seen if you don’t count Keane, Scholes, Lampard, Vieira and Batty. The platitudes have been coming thick and fast for Gerrard all week, so I thought I’d show my appreciation with a poem:
Drive boy, dog boy,
Dirty numb angel boy.
In the doorway boy,
She was a lipstick boy.
She was a beautiful boy,
And tears boy,
And all in your innerspace boy.
You had hands, girl boy,
and steel boy.
You had chemicals boy
I’ve grown so close to you, Boy,
And you just groan boy
She said “come over, come over”
She smiled at you, boy.
Prediction: Roondog and Falcor to finally disprove the haters with the best double-act since Iscariot and Pilate. Two goals apiece, and Fellaini goes a whole ninety minutes without fouling anyone except himself, for which he then gets sent off. Young recreates his pearler from the 8-2 game, but this time it’s a scuff off his shin via his face. 1-0 Arsenal.
Not writing in protest of Wenger’s refusal to acknowledge all those Christmas cards I’ve sent him. He’s dead to me now.
Prediction: Goals for both teams unless one or both of them don’t score. 1-1 United.
Had to confess to the prison pastor today. It feels good to finally admit I didn’t post all those Christmas cards to the Emirates and instead spent the stamp money on sweet Mexican black tar heroin.
Prediction: Tiny O’Malley and his crew to ambush the Riley Boys in the D-Wing common room to establish who runs the cribbage tournament. 2-1 United.