ANOTHER game? For Christ’s sake, lads, another game? Let’s look on the bright side though, eh? At least we get another chance to listen to some lovely working-class lads sing some songs about unemployment and signing on the dole without the slightest hint of irony again. I don’t know about you but I can’t wait.

Saying that, maybe I’ve underestimated their collective wit. Maybe “Sit down if you’re unemployed” was an orchestrated statement against the decline of heavy industry and the impact on working-class communities across the country — a show of solidarity perhaps from a fan base of a club steeped in shipbuilding and ironworks history.

Maybe it was a protest song aimed at their club’s current ownership and their unrelenting support for this Conservative government, a government intent on strangling working-class, industrial communities and starving them into submission. A massive one in the eye for their porn-baronned, weird faced, House of Lords peerage-holding, nodder-selling ownership, which is dragging them away from their ground and their roots, exploiting the club’s name to make as much money as possible in the process, with the long-term view of selling to a “fit and proper” owner for the highest price possible.

Perhaps they are all Tories — the dopey ones who let themselves believe the “we are all in this together — fairer society” nonsense, while the actual Tories are making hay with their shades on, selling stereotypes of industrial towns like Liverpool to gullible divvies who go the match and sing silly songs while their own communities are dismantled around them and sold to the highest money-laundered bidder so that eventually they will have to pay for the privilege of commuting on a bus from just south of Solihull while still claiming that the sound of the Bow Bells wakes them up every morning.

It is possible they were just trying to be funny — just a bit of top Soccer Am-style “banter”. Whatever it was, lads, it was boss. Crack on. Can you do it to a different tune next week though? Have a think — there are loads of them knocking about. Have you heard Sloop John B?

I was cry-arsing on here the other week about the Reds not being very good at either: a) scoring or b) stopping the other team scoring so the match on Saturday night was a refreshing change to an extent.

The defensive unit was pretty good, no messing about, no-one really switching off.

The absence of Alberto Moreno and his wandering thoughts led to a better shape and what seemed a more cohesive unit. They were only marking that Bluenose, Good Morning Vietnam, “better than Suarez him, lad, yerno” carthorse mind, so let’s hold off on giving big Steven Caulker a six-year contract for now

His double handball and the consequent blue fume that crept over the river from North Wales when the penalty wasn’t given was worth at least a £100,000 bonus though, with £50,000 going to the referee for making it happen.

Don’t you just love people called Atkinson though (Ron and Neil aside)? I might see if the referee Atkinson fancies coming on our bus to Wembley. Lovely day out going there, Martin, going to start drinking before we get to The Rocket, have a disco, win the cup, have another disco and then go to town.

Don’t fancy it, no? OK, what if we take a detour through North Wales and then down County Road with you strapped to the roof swinging your lad about all over the show and punching a life-size inflatable Sly Stallone while singing Oh Everton, We’re All Laughing At You? Sound, pick you up at five bells. Clattenburg is driving by the way.

You would imagine that at some point we are going to start scoring and probably not stop. That point will probably coincide with us playing a different strike force and that but still there were lots of positives against West Ham.

The build-up play was really good at times with Cameron Brannagan looking a much better player than he has to date and Joao Teixeira looking like he might be great if he had really good movement in front of him instead of Christian Benteke stood doing a mixture of waving and putting his arms out for a big hug.

It was a shame for the young lads that they didn’t have any real suitable quality in front of them. Benteke is slightly more mobile than Rickie ‘the bus stop’ Lambert, but he needs different types of players around him than we have currently got available.

Danny, Danny Ings, the owner of the shittest football song in history aside from the earlier mentioned unemployed ditty, gets better by the day. He’s better than Rushie in my head at this point, despite the moody tattoo on the inside of his right arm (have a look — I think it is some kind of maid milking a duck). That might be a slight exaggeration (Ings’ quality not the maid-duck combination) but he would at the very least make this side much better with or without Benteke.

Until then, it might be more of the same in front of goal so let’s keep it tight and no messing about eh, Red Men.

It’s back to East London a week on Tuesday with the winners getting a boss away day at Blackburn Rovers. Slaven Bilic, who on Saturday spent the first half looking like a man who had forgotten his coat only to confirm the rumours by remembering it for the second half, will fancy his chances.

You can picture the scene now: Bilic on the side line wearing what looks like someone else’s suit — possibly Big Sam’s — bubbles blowing forever around his head blurring his vision with the sweet sweet sound of Tory propaganda filling his ears. It brings a tear to the eye.

What’s that bit in I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles…

“…and like my dreams they fade and die.”

Let’s hope so. If the Mighty Reds don’t kill them off next week then it’s a fair bet to say that their owners have got that covered at some point.