Christmas is a time for family. You share a meal and catch up on the year goneby. I enjoy the turkey dinner and I wear the crown from the cracker.
My Christmas involves a lot of time with various familiy members, some from Manchester, others from further afield. You can brag about how your job is going, boast about the success of your kids, but essentially it all comes back to one thing: football.
I have City fans in my immediate family and I have dippers by marriage. We laugh and joke initially, but it will always end in tears.
I have a choice. Be the bigger man and let them take the piss or spoil Christmas by allowing myself to be embroiled in a row.
I haven’t rowed this year but I’ve bit my tongue on several occasions. I haven’t been able to avoid laughing at the City fans who have claimed they’re signing Kaka, Messi or Buffon in January, but generally I have been pretty well behaved, for the sake of Christmas.
I’m glad this bullshit is over. Life can resume. It’s no longer Christmas or New Years Eve, so I can laugh at the scousers for having their captain charged and I can take the piss out of City for being the richest team in the World, whilst also spending time in the relegation zone! The pleasantness stops here. I hate em all.
City are going down with a billion in the bank, a billion in the bank, a billion in the bank. City are going down with a billion in the bank, a billion in the bank, a billion in the bank. They’re going down, they’re going down, they’re going down, they’re going down. They’re going down, they’re going down, they’re going down, they’re going down.
Steve Gerrard, Gerrard. He went to Southport for the day, got charged with assault and affray, Steve Gerrard, Gerrard.
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