Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, also West Ham fans – welcome to Paul Knows Nothing Against Liverpool, a weekly column which is actually a secret underground project to find extraterrestrial life in the comments section.
I’m Paul, your mad scientist using probes everywhere for no good reason.
This week has brought us a lot of things. A lot, a lot, a lot of things. You don’t fucking need reminding. So let’s jump right in.
During the Dortmund game I stared in disbelief twice. The 9th and 91st minute. But the reasons for that couldn’t have been any more different.
…Truth be told, I prosper in demise. My jokes about Liverpool failing to score have always been alright. My best columns happened after absolute howlers. After horrible mistakes. It might not be the best talent to have. But it is the one I possess.
And to no one’s surprise, during the game I went as far as calling James Milner ‘Captain Spastic’ compared to ‘Captain Fantastic’ to make a solid point. I was saying that an Istanbul-like comeback after going 2-0 down is completely impossible.
Who’s a fool? Me.
No one else but James Milner was the one who launched a miraculous cross.
And no one else but Dejan ‘Cinderella 3000’ Lovren was the one who salvaged the tie in added time. 4 goals against Dortmund. Sakho did one as well, just a dozen minutes earlier. Two centre-backs winning their one-on-one battles against the Germans, completely prospering in that sort of thing.
I’d say you couldn’t even write a script like this. But once I’ve read a fanfiction about Simon Mignolet plowing the shit out of a helpless alien girl stranded in a Belgian pear farm so I think someone could imagine this as well. It’s not too difficult.
And as for Dejan Lovren, I am feeling more and more conflicted about him. Not because I don’t like him – no! I love him! He’s a great story to follow and there’s just something about a big Croatian running your defense, it really is. It’s not that.
It’s the fact that together with Joe Allen he’s a loved purchase of Brendan Rodgers. They haven’t been any good until Jurgen Klopp came to power. To some extent, it reminds me of the time I asked for a skateboard for my 8th birthday. I got it. Despite the fact I couldn’t fucking ride the damn thing to save my life. Still can’t.
And all we needed was our Tony Hawk – Jurgen Klopp. Who could take our casual, uninteresting Joe Allen and turn him into a super sub, making Dietmar Hamann himself jealous.
Who could take the useless Croatian with a confidence of a trashbag and turn him into something amazing.
Yes. It’s all down to Klopp. But I still think that Brendan Rodgers is somewhere down there, watching. Watching and smiling, knowing it’s nothing but his two beloved purchases who made all the difference that night.
“I always knew you’ve had it in you, my son”, he smiles.
Tell you what. It’s quite an improvement, given his previous record of completely ruining perfectly good celebration pictures.
He still had no idea what destiny had prepared for him. So he was a bit of a tosser to Phil.
Next up, Bournemouth. The South have given us a great amount of beautiful memories in the recent times.
Rickie Lambert. Yikes. 3-2 Martin Skrtel masterpiece. Double yikes. Male leggings. Triple yikes.
Posh booing every time Adam Lallana gets the ball also originates from nowhere else but the South coast of the Premier League. No yikes. Great stuff, actually.
“Boo, Adam, boo! Thou hast dishonoured us, thou cream-faced loon!”
Never a boring time with these. We have joined the fun too. Sturridge hit the bar a couple of times. Kolo Toure laid on the ground for a few seconds for no good reason. Roberto Firmino had the worst game of his career, doing nothing except scoring a measly, useless goal to break the deadlock. What a useless, stat-padding bastard, how dares he not be English.
And oh yeah, by the way – we won. But it’s been expected. No matter the fact we played with like five youth players and at some point one of the Melwood janitors was playing in our midfield. We won. We shalt still cry. With Jurgen Klopp around, we have to resort to whining about the games we won because at this rate, there won’t be much else left.
And the lunatics from other fanbases (often disguised as actual fucking pundits) can shove their stats right up their arses, because these papers need a deserving home. The win percentages will come. What’s more important is the fact this team does not rely on a flukey cross or a shoddy penalty decision to win the game anymore (yet it very often helps, thank you very much!)
Liverpool of today are actually trying to create. Trying to kill. And as long as Martin Skrtel is chained to the Melwood door, not allowed to make a move, we will be alright.
“Guys? GUYS? It’s six in the morning already! LET ME GO!”
On other note, here’s been one more debut this week, which I am more than happy to congratulate.
Danny Ward was absolutely excellent! Despite failing to hold on to that bloody clean sheet we all needed so much, he was still great.
I literally forgot how it felt having a goalkeeper who actually knows what it’s like to hit the ball. Let me tell you now, in case you’re an Everton fan reading this column – feels great!
Like a swarm of angels running circles around my head. Circling, as I watch a pinpoint 55 yard pass going to our player on the pitch instead of referee’s daughter, who’s sitting in the Centenary, texting.
The boys are so cute, Stacey, they are. But one of them just mashed your head in with a fast-flying sphere and now you’ll need a lot of stitches and foundation to get that lad from geography to text you back.
There have been other accidents too.
He wasn’t even in the same stadium for fuck’s sake how did that happen
You see my point. Mignolet’s a bit, how to say…careless. Bet you Klopp gave him a long-term contract just so he could laugh at him sitting on the bench with Danny Ward starting in the Champions League final or some shit.
After all this, I would not be surprised to see Mignolet getting a plane ticket back home to his pear farm.
But who knows. He will probably waltz into the starting XI anyway. Maybe it’s a yet another turn in the madness which is Jurgen Klopp’s Liverpool. No two weeks are the same when he’s around.
And I’m loving everything.
See you next time.