In the NewsDyche says he nearly signed Kane. Watching those two try and have a conversation would be possibly the most hilarious event since Belgium called up Hazard for international duty this week. On. Your. Bike. We lent you our shiniest toy at the beginning of the summer, and you trashed him. You are most definitely not having him back now. As if you needed any more proof that Goons are the gift that keeps on giving, one of them actually stopped living his life this week to write to Wenger complaining that Lacazette‘s yellow boots were to blame for their defeat at Stoke. Yes, because it was that and not the fact that Arsenal are p*ssies. There was also a big article about how amazing Phil Jones is, begging you to take him seriously. Impossible. Not when every photo ever taken of him looks like Sloth from The Goonies in a funhouse mirror.

The Champions League draw is out.  Since 2006 the most difficult team United have ever played against in the group stages is Benfica. Other than that it’s a constant stream of CSKA and people you’ve barely heard of. Ludicrous. Sp*rs, however, hilarious. Ours, not ideal, but if we can’t qualify past Roma and FC Carrier Bag we don’t deserve to be in the knockout stages, so there is no point crying about it. In the transfer market, if the Scouse hijack this Oxlade-Chamberlain deal after the amount of effort we’ve put into it I will lose my sh*t. Arsenal to Klippity Klopp is pointless – it’s a sideways move. It’s one team who won’t win much to another team that won’t win much, but with the increased threat of being mugged. This has looked like our most likely deal for some time, but there are some other irons in the fire. Clock is ticking though. And elsewhere Diego is starting to resemble BA Barracus in that you’re going to have to knock his a*se out and drag him onto a plane if you want him to leave South America. He’s like a nightmare ex, when your forgotten how great the sex was and all you can see now is that they are a complete bunny boiler. I haven’t burned my Diego doll yet, though. Because I’m not a whiny red Scouser. Suggestions on uses for it on a postcard.

The OthersTammy Abraham scored his first premiership goal yesterday for Swansea. Huzzah! How is De Boer doing so badly at PalaceReal Pulis and Stoke bored each other to a 1-1 draw. There’s a surprise. West Ham are bottom of the league after losing to Newcastle. Happy days, maybe the taxpayers can have their stadium back when they end up demoted to the Championship. “There’s nothing wrong with my back line” says Klippity Klopp. This might be all fine and dandy when you are playing suckers like Arsenal who can’t beat Stoke (I know, tempting fate, but I’m recklessly delirious on violet flavoured Gin and victory)  We’ll see how that pans out for you. Huddersfield are still unbeaten, and, blissfully, Sp*rs still can’t win at Wembley. City beat Bournemouth, jammy f*ckers, after Charlie Daniels scored the goal of the weekend at 12:43 on Saturday lunchtime. We may not have spent “enough” money this summer, but it could be worse. We could have spent enough to feed a small country and still be riding our luck. We all know I have a soft spot for Bournemouth. And Eddie Howe. They will be OK, I’m sure of it, but this result made me angry, especially when I saw that Mike Dean basically doubled injury time. Then I saw Sterling sent off for celebrating his goal. This made me laugh, at least. Pep says he needs it explaining to him. We can teach him to suck eggs too while we are at it. Bellend. You’re not in Kansas anymore Dorothy, and you play by the same rules as everyone else. From watching two minutes of highlights I attained a faultless perspective on the United game, and decided that Chequebook Pulis and his Mob of Rotters (Fellaini, Ibrahimovic, Jones; lookers they ain’t) were lucky too. They made a meal out of getting the first goal, against a mid-table club, which gives me great hope about people crushing them at some point and ending the media lovefest. Yes that’s right, a lovefest for a man who they pilloried when he was in charge of us, despite the fact that he was less bonkers and full of sh*t than he is now.

Our Game: The usual half awake atmosphere for a 1:30 kick off. Distinctly hungover crowd, enthusiastic but nowhere near coherent enough to sing en masse at kick off at least. Being a trooper, I sank two double guns in quick succession after 12pm, when it was slightly more acceptable, in order to wake myself up. Of course this was with all of your best interests at heart and so my match report didn’t just read “zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Morata naked zzzzzzzzzzz.”

Us: First time ever without an British player in the match day squad apparently. Pesto (all right, auto-spell, you win) came back into the starting line up with Cesc after his suspension at the expense of Bakayoko and ChristensenBoga has disappeared like a Sp*d title challenge. What’s that about? The poor sod got his start, had to make way after Cahill‘s sending off and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. Has he been sending nude selfies to Antonio‘s missus? Nicked his parking space? Or been caught FaceTimeing Costa from the team hotel? Who knows. I wonder if he’s stuck in football purgatory, they want to loan him out but how do they dare until they know we’ve got people coming in?

Them: The Blue Scouse are like a penniless chav with a tax rebate who spends his days picking up people’s fag ends and loitering in a Wetherspoon’s. They are so unused to having cash they’ve spunked all the Lukaku money before it’s even touched their pocket. How is that going to pan out for them? And why were they wearing what looked like a white kit washed with a black sock and left to gather mildew for thirty years?

Multi million pound Pickford, the most expensive goalkeeper ever in the universe (or whatever) fluffed his lines with his first touch and to be honest it didn’t get much better for them in the first half. There was not much in it in the opening spell, but we were definitely on top after a quarter of an hour. When Everton did have the ball we were forcing them to play very quickly and they just seemed to be lacking any spark. Their new signings came nowhere close to setting the pitch on fire. Pickford looks like they’ve shelled out a fortune for someone who will grow into his potential and isn’t fulfilling it yet, and as for Shrek I didn’t even notice he was on the pitch until he started rolling round on the floor (leaving a pretty hefty dent in the turf)pretending to be injured. Sigurdsson was completely anonymous. I’ve just checked to see if he even played. As for us we were steady if not spectacular in our efforts to break them down and under no real pressure. Then on 26 minutes came a great touch from Fabregas to Morata, who returned the favour with an improvised header down for Cesc to knock it low into the far corner with the outside of his boot. It was all too quick for meatheads like Jagielka at the back. It never felt like there was going to be any drama after we went ahead. In fact we doubled our lead before half time, despite the stupidity of the referee (we’ll come back to him) when the ball fell outside the box. An outstanding ball in from Dave dropped perfectly for Morata to head it in. At the other end, Everton were limited to one single shot off target in the first half and if you gave me a million pounds I couldn’t tell you when that was. Admittedly this is because the division of colour assets going on between Boycie (sitcom alias) and I and over our pack of Starburst was more focused than Roman’s forthcoming divorce negotiations. For this we take full responsibility.

The rowdy lot in the Matthew Harding sent up a shout for a penalty straight after the restart but to be fair, from behind it looked at the time like a pretty 50/50 shoulder barge in which our player was not fat, so came off worse. After an attempt by Pesto which went wide, Rudi put in a good block which finally gave the blue Scouse their first corner of the game. Everton looked slightly more awake but that’s not saying much. Pretty soon it was all us again. A great run by Moses, another ball fizzed dangerously across the face of goal just didn’t quite find anyone in the box, then Pesto, straight back into form it seems, hit the side netting on 59. A similar shot immediately afterwards from Moses went straight into keepers hands. By just after the hour mark it had all gone a bit flat, but what did we care, we were winning. Comfortably. We were playing at 70% because we were finding it that easy. Koeman‘s response was to make a singularly unimaginative and pointless substitution. You’ve achieved nothing, all game. You still haven’t had a shot on target. So rather than try and challenge us by shuffling your pack you make a like for like switch between two forwards. Must be nice to get paid for being that dopey. Crucially, the player going off was not Rooney. Struggling to breathe whilst strapped into his girdle afternoon, Boycie and I chuckled at the idea that he has “given up playing for England to devote himself wholly to Everton.” Perhaps “utilising the entire 30% of skill and ability he’s got left on club football before all those fags and takeaways catch up with him” is more accurate. I don’t know where the media got the idea that he was enjoying some kind of renaissance early this season. His total non-appearance ended in him being booked for gobbing off. When you’re going bald a second time, even after you paid to have your pubes shaved off and stuck to your head, it’s time to at least bow down to the Championship.

Bakayoko came on for Pesto on 74 minutes, which was nice. Mostly because it was a relief to know he didn’t smash himself to pieces at Wembley and aggravate his injury by putting that much into the game when not fully fit. We had chances to extend our lead further. A great cross from George Michael, who is still playing out of his skin, and still being penalised for nothing regularly, almost fell to Cesc. Morata bowed out for Michy. Please put it the right net this time. Although he looked so mortified at Wembley I almost wanted to cuddle him. And we beat the twats anyway so I’m not holding it against him. Koemantook his head out of his backside and finally took off Jagielka to replace him with Aaron Lennon, who runs like a penguin whose balance is skewed by the disproportionate size of his arse. What was the point in doing this in the 83rd minute? They actually started getting forward, even if they still couldn’t hit a shot on target. Maybe if you’d have given your team more than seven minutes to try and get something out of the game your day might not have been such a bust. Again we might have had a third on 85, if Willian hadn’t taken the ball off Moses‘s foot in the box. An effort by them was tipped over by Courtois, but nope, still off target.

RefwatchJon Moss – are you sh*tting me? We’ve already had Madley, Moss and Taylor and it’s not even September? We all know he’s my least favourite official. (I know, it’s like gauging your least favourite STD)Questionable in the first half at times but not so that he damaged either side. Dave and Morata saved him from an absolutely shocking advantage he tried to not give us by scoring. Let’s be clear, if not for an outstanding ball in and some useless defending by Everton, there was no advantage. There was just him standing there doing nothing. He went downhill a bit in the second half but he was not as much of a c*** as he normally is, and that’s the nicest thing I’m prepared to say about him. Because really, when you’re paid £100k a year, not being as awful as people expect isn’t really good enough is it?

So: Never did I expect today to be such a walk in the park. You’d have expected a lot more from them for the amount of money they’ve spent this summer. One like for like sub until ten minutes to go? Leaving the Lennon sub almost to the end? The only player that gets a pass is Besic, who turned up for work today despite the fact that his father was shot this week. If I was a blue Scouser I’d be mighty p*ssed off at this lacklustre effort from the manager right through the team. But I’m not, so I’m just going to sit here sipping my gin with a smug look on my face.

I don’t think they ever really looked like undoing our defence. I’m really liking Rudiger quietly going about his business. I’ve been told he’s a bit shy and awkward, so show him some love after the international break. Morata learned a hard lesson last week and straight away from him there was a determination today to be tougher on the ball and hold it up. His reward was an assist and a goal, for which my fantasy team is muchly grateful. He behaved like a man who had been told to go and watch tapes of Costa being annoying and chasing everything down. But do you know what really highlighted his swift learning curve for me? The moment in the 25th minute when a great lump like Ashley Williams, much experienced at slinging his weight around, tried to hold him off the ball and ended up moaning on his a*se. At Wembley a week ago Morata would have folded with a perplexed look on his face. That was the first time I’ve seen him dish out what he’s been getting since he arrived. Also, he and Willian are combining really well. There’s a real understanding brewing with little flicks and one-twos. But just to be clear, if they start on with those sad little w*nker handshakes like The DLS and his Sp*dling mates in North London, they are both dead to me.

I may blog transfer deadline day, because one can only be so entertained by one’s mad kitten whilst trying to unravel the complexities of the government crisis of spring 1915. It is so ridiculous in places that it sounds like something the Daily Fail made up… on no, wait, they did. Nothing has changed in the last 100 years. Shout out to Mowgli. (Special alias) He finally made it to his seat in the 70th minute. And to Gonzo’s mummy, who is great company and eschews overly PC madness as do I.

 

Don’t forget you can relive last season at very reasonable cost by following the Amazon link to below to buy the book of the blog: