That was the week that was

With that ‘King Fergie being on the Old Trafford throne nearly as long as our Liz, it’s hard to qualify exactly how a Man United manager should behave – but with dignity is a good start. Big Alex had his grouchy moments but nothing like the Miz One today. ‘You sink so?’ Mou spat at a mildly moronic question before tearing into his hapless inquisitor, who was just trying to do his job. Wonder if the dressing room copped it liked that, and then maybe the hotel room trashed, if he’s still there? Yet another toothless, goalless United draw in front of 75,000 short-changed Redduns – and there’s plenty more of that to come, in quick succession to add fuel to the fire. Great, tune in for more fireworks from The Feisty Fakir, starting tonight against Everton at the Theatre of Nightmares. Hey Man U, it’s class we neutrals expect from the Red corner of Manchester – a bit of dignity from the manager of a world-respected English Institution – and we’re not getting it…

Speaking for the needy ones of us, we expectant saddos (see below re syndromes) who crave goals and excitement must thank God for the Merseyside belter- and even the exciting Emirates, shock, horror… Well I never, Arsenal entertaining – no honest, and showing some spu- I mean spirit in the process.. Oh, and keeping it religious, cheers Christian for raising our Bridgebound spirits and eyebrows, loved that winning goal. That amazing result really urinated on the Blues’ chips, well, for a few days anyway to give all the pundits plenty to pontificate about. Big Boos to those goalless, soulless teams who sent everyone home cheated, like when you get to the sweetshop and find a hole in your pocket. Three whole Prem matches without a goal? The offenders deserve a slap – oh, sorry, Moyesy, slip of the tongue, love…

It’s barmpot Prem week, like three busses coming at once when you’ve waited hours for one. By next Monday night we lucky lads ‘n lassies will have had three games in ten days. If life at the top wobbled a bit on Saturday, worrabout tings down dere? Those Silva-coated golden shirts delivered Slaven’s boys another Hammer blow, now more searching questions at the London Stadium – but well done Marco’s Tigers. If the gruesome twosome from the North East are doomed, Cap’n Mainwaring, ‘ooze gwin down withum? Only a brave/stupid/merchant banker would risk a bet on that one… Swansea, boyo?

I love football faux-pas, don’t you? What about Harry’s howler, that unbelievable penalty miss for Bournemouth, it was more like a rugby conversion. I hope that loss of two points doesn’t prove crucial for the Cherries, how awful that would be for Eddie and that nice Arter lad. There ought to be an award for the worst pen taken, even the other Harry (Kane) qualifies – and from the same place, spooky, eh?

Loved the Koeman/O’Neill spat, highly entertaining. If Martin wasn’t the hardest player on the field, to take him on verbally is dangerous: ‘the master tactician of the blame game’ were the Ireland manager’s words. But Ronnie’s been around a bit himself, and turned that into a compliment, signing his acid Twitter response ‘The Master Tactician’ – brilliant, more please.

Syndrome summary: if SAD stands for Seasonal Affective Disorder, all we red-blooded football- nutty lads & lasses have been suffering from SID – Soccer International Distress last week, but phew, now we’re back, recovered and with a vengeance – hardly a day without a big match. Bring it on!