I admit to having problems with Liverpool. I identify as one of the original proper working class Londoners for family reasons and at the very least a lower middle class super intelligent and endlessly fascinating suburbanite for reasons of birth. Certainly I don't identify with the southern middle class.
But I am no anti Northerner. While my early romance was with West Wales and in the longer term it was for the South West of England, I also made a point of venturing beyond the Arsenal and the Watford Gap at an early age. My North is the North East for a variety of reasons which is defined as Northumberland extending down to Yorkshire. This means among other things, that I can genuinely sense that St James' Park is a cathedral.
The North West? Not so good. Family deaths occurred whenever I was in the Lake District. Kiss Me Quick Blackpool never appealed because I don't kiss. The Mancs always seemed mouthy and the Merseysiders more so. With the latter there is inevitably the shrill and the schmaltz, seemingly from one century to another. Their only saving grace to my mind has been the music which for the most part has been wonderful. But the sheer aggressive drippiness of them all has been enough to stop me ever going there in contrast with Manchester which on two underwhelming occasions I did risk,
Plus the two worst women I have encountered in my life were Liverpudlians. This is clearly no coincidence and is so logical that, with hindsight, it needs absolutely no explanation. Other than be under no illusions that a boob tube by definition means that there is no penis thrusting ahead. And then I guess there was also that moment when all prospects for promotion went out of the window when I said to my line manager and his manager that if one took the personality of the first and merged it into the appearance of the second what one would find is the very epitome of a Harry Enfield Scouse git.
So it takes a bit of something to congratulate through what remains of my gritted teeth one of their football teams for its performance against Barcelona. Yes, the over-legalistic, irrational, money-grabbing fake sentimental twerps voted to remain in the EU. But what they have done tonight is drive a tank through Jean Claude Juncker's award today as 2019's greatest European. Not so much a Ferry Across The Mersey as You Let Them Take Gibralter and Nuclear Will No Longer Simply Be A Deterrent.
So, yep, full dues to them. They will, of course, lose to Ajax in the final but every dog must have its day and today it was LIverpool's (though please God don't think that I include in that The Wirral). The team is now an inspiration to hysterical men with unfeasibly high pitched voices all around the world. They''ll (sniff) Never (tears) Walk (do you want a fight?) (I'll murder you or set the IRA on you if you don't hand over your credit cards) Alone.