Almighty God in heaven...give me strength.
The Wife walks past me into kitchen as I read Moonies above post.
Me: "Hey Sam, are you still reading the Michael Palin book?"
Wife: "Yeah...why?"
Me: "Nowt really, only Urban Hatemonger's reading it an all...any good then?"
Wife: (wife now looking over my shoulder) "Yeah...nearly finished it...Oh look, adidasss is reading George Orwell" (wife monologue follows, about how Continentals put us to shame when it comes to languages)
Me: (quietly wanting her to go away by now)
Wife: (pauses for breath)
Wife: "I didn't know you had joined a book forum"...
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Choose Liverpool. Choose the dole queue. Choose to scam disability benefit. Choose mind-numbing, grinding efficiency over flair. Choose Torben Piechnik, Istvan Kozma and Paul Stewart. Choose not to win a single league title since the backpass rule was implemented. Choose penalties. Choose car stereos, hubcaps and stanley knives. Choose to trade on your proud sense of tradition and then not lift a finger in protest when two American billionaires who don't even know the name of your club decide to buy it. Choose to win the European Cup whilst only having to play seven matches. Choose to bask in a perpetual, sickening, media love-in. Choose celebrities who **** off out of your city as soon as they have earned the money to do so and then spend the rest of their lives harping on about how wonderful it is. Choose to sing about Munich until confronted with your own tragedy. Choose to end it all in an orgy of self pity, just another excuse to perpetuate the grief culture spawned by your selfish, insular ****ed-up excuse for a city. Choose your future. Choose Scouse.
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