All those years we were the laughing stock of football: Everything we did was added to our ever-growing catalogue of fuck-ups. Managerial appointments, signings, boardroom decisions and so on. We were ridiculed both on and off the pitch, in fact we were more like a long-running sitcom about a football club rather than actually being one. Written by Galton and Simpson and probably starring someone like Eric Sykes or Roy Hudd and called 'Keep Off That Maine Road.'
But now we are playing the best football ever seen in the Premier league, we are amassing trophies like they are running out of fashion, and we are breaking and creating new football records pretty much every season.
Meanwhile, over at that putrid, festering quagmire of pus they have players who don't want to be there, discontent within the dressing room, ego battles on and off the pitch and a debt so hideously vast that I'm sure I once saw Sir Edmund Hillary skilfully negotiating the treacherous north side of that towering pile of IOU's.
They've got that preening, poncing ballerina-in-boots, and they are paying him a million pounds a fortnight to sulk and storm off the pitch in a tantrum when things don't go his way, and they have an alcoholic octogenarian overseeing things despite having retired years and years ago.
If Carlsberg made sitcoms about football...