On a hangover, there aren’t many things that will get me to wake and keep me awake, but I surprised myself as much as anyone else when upon my eyes opening at 8am I had that excited feeling. You know, when your stromach just keeps turning over on itself (and no, it wasn’t the Stella from last night before you ask!) and you keep getting shivers down your back.
So, not only am I now hungover and knackered, truth be told, I am really looking forward to the League Cup final. Quadruple (on quintuple, if we count World Club Cup!) on the cards or not, I want us to win this trophy. Losing won’t hurt as much as losing the FA and European Cup final, or missing out on the league which Liverpool are currently gift-wrapping nicely for us, but it would still hurt.
More than that, I can’t fucking stand to see the media wanking over the wonderful Harry Redknapp, winning two domestic cup finals in two years, one against Chelsea, the other against United. Torture.
So, come on lads, do us proud! Batter them like we battered Wigan.
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