Paul B

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No, you're all wrong. Slagging players is what made Liverpool great. Clapping them as they leave the pitch after warming up! WTF's that all about? Standing ovations for players being subbed (sometimes for not being good enough to be out there), WTF's that supposed to do? They've already got egos the size of planets and having some sort of embargo on expressing a valid viewpoint if it runs counter to the "politically-correct-proper-supporters-association-of-Liverpool" brigade does nothing to keep them on their toes. I probably go back more than a lot on here and I can tell you that players and managers were slagged during the greatest of all times and long may it continue. That Steven Gerrard for instance, where does he get off thinking he....(continued page 9)

Aretha has just rang me up, she can't get access herself, anyway, she says, "Tell that NHE to f*** right off. I didn't sing it for him but for my church. Oh, and tell him he's gay as well." Not me mate, Aretha Franklin saying that. Take it up with her.

Ahhh, haven't you got one? I have, in fact I've got two! (Serves you right for laughing like a maniac at my earlier posting about Glenbuck. Ermm ...not that I'm childish or owt, just indulging in a bit of Shauden....Shaeuden....laughing at other's misfortunes)

I was there yesterday. Coming back from the Isle of Arran I opted to take the road back to the M74 that passes Glenbuck. I'd been before and found it a bit depressing and my view wasn't changed on this visit. I'm not saying the Ayrshire coalfields are depressing, although they may have been when Bill lived there but the experience of the "village" itself is. It no longer exists in reality as what could be described as a village at all. The area has been bought by British Coal and is now run by whatever name that organisation goes under as a depressing open-cast mining operation. I don't know if they still extract coal or it's now devoted to cleaning-up operations but either way, there is one cottage and then a gate beyond which you cannot go. I don't know what I was expecting but it certainly wasn't that. If you sneak over the gate you are faced with a huge greyish-brown mass of coal/slag with zero evidence of earlier habitations. There is small road which passes the cottage (even though numerous signs tell you it's private and not to enture up there) and takes you up a steep hill to a couple of very nice looking cottages at the side of a large loch used as a fishing area for the nearby village of Muirkirk. The whole area is penned in by overhanging trees and there is no shop, post-office, church or anything else that would entitle the place to a name at all. There is however a large marble plinth celebrating the sporting achievements of the former residents of the area with particular attention to Bill Shankly himself. Sadly, this is somewhat spoilt by the poor grammar on the plinth itself.

Ignoring the fuel above opting for Robson and Jerome I would say that the greatest version after our own is by the world's greatest singer, Aretha Franklin. As she can do no wrong and has the voice of an angel, and she is singing one of the greatest of all anthems, how could it go wrong? It doesn't, it's sublime, soaring, heart-rending and amazing. John Peel played it as his first record on air on the Monday night after Hillsborough. Spine-tingling stuff, it really is.

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Is it just me or is the world cup boring as hell?

We're not champions anymore. We're not champions anymore.

Cahm on you English(erm) men!

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Kinell, enjoy the rest, save some money, do other stuff and come back refreshed. Let's enjoy ourselves during the beautiful summer shall we before we wish our lives away pining for autumn and winter to bring along those misty, forlorn, fruitful days. Days when the melancholy....(continued on page 94)

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Kinell, that's like reading one of those eye charts at the opticians innit?

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Thought it was the poorest final in terms of banners and atmosphere from our lot of all the ones I've been to in all honesty. I definitely think this had a lot to do with allocation and the 1600 missing tickets. We were sat next to many, many neutrals (some of the stories I heard from these beauts would make any good Liverpudlian squirm-especially those who couldn't get tickets) and some of them left with about 5 minutes of normal time to go! They didn't come back either!

What about utilising the Christmas Tree formation if that proves a failure?