WHEN I started doing these I was aware that some weeks would be more exciting that others. That there was a distinct possibility for, say, Watford at home it might read “Went match, got chippy, went home” and Robbo would have to tell me that he can’t put an article on the website that is six words long.

This game is getting into that territory. I went to work, which as you are aware isn’t real work, it’s just talking about footy into a mic or a camera and trying to make Social Media Shaun crack a smile (unlikely today, he’s just got back from a festival in Amsterdam and wants to jump in the Mersey). Then I went to the pub as quickly as I was allowed. Which was when Craig Hannan turned up to pick me up.

Me and Craig sat and had a drink and talked about work like a pair of losers. Then Robbo and Jon Jones came too, closely followed by Andy Heaton. We’re in The Railway. I like The Railway, although lots of other people do as well, especially now The Lion has shut (RIP, GBNF), which means we’re all cramped on quite a small table and getting in the way of the nice lady trying to serve people food.

We leave, before I get a club sandwich to the head, and head up to the ground. It’s harder to park now with all the extra cars, but we manage it because we are excellent at all this by now. Then I head The Stanley/The Glenbuck/Whatever it’s called for this week’s edition of ‘ticket jiggery’. Which luckily this week just involved me giving some fan cards to Mick Clarke. Who looks like a man who doesn’t need more fan cards. We all have a complicated conversation about what we are doing for Palace away and somehow I end up with all the tickets.

The football. I like the team. I loved last year’s under-18 side, more than I’ve liked a lot of Liverpool first teams, so I’m like a proud father watching Ovie Ejaria and Trent Alexander-Arnold play. Especially when Trent absolutely webs someone. That’s my boy. He looks a bit nervy truth be told, he can attack better than that, but Ejaria looks like he’s gone for a kick about in the park he’s that chilled. I can’t wait until Arsenal fans realise they released him and demand someone’s head over it.

Danny Sturridge wins the game for Liverpool but everyone seems more excited that Danny Ings is back. Which is a bit odd, but there you go. It’s a shame Ings doesn’t get his goal. He probably should, really. We make it a nervy last 10, ’cause Liverpool, and then the ref blows up.

I stand around talking to some handsome Spanish fellas who, it turns out, work for Marca. They are mates with Josemi. They make me do a video for him saying he was great for Liverpool and then laugh their heads off. Then I realise I am meant to be meeting everyone to go and do The Pink.

Tim and Craig are waiting patiently by Homebaked and I make my apologies. We talk about football into microphones and I try and do a five positives and five negatives thing which doesn’t really work, but everyone likes a trier. Especially, it seems, The Kop. Then we go for a pint.

We don’t have a mad one. Craig is making noises about a women’s hockey team being out, but I’m pretty sure he has made them up. They don’t appear anyway. There is a singer on in O’Neill’s though and Craig makes us stay because he loves a turn. Then it’s a quick pint in Sound before heading home at a reasonable hour, which I then ruin by staying up for ages reading about Liverpool beating Spurs in the game I have just watched and talked about. What an idiot.

Anyway, draw tonight. Apparently Donald Trump did it once. How mad is that? Hope it’s Fat Man Scoop doing it tonight. Leeds away please, chief.

SINGLE LADIES, I CAN’T HEAR YOU!

Up The Shattered Reds.

Donald Trump. Leeds away please, chief.

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