Those cunts on the pitch will never know what that would have meant to us today, just business to them. This is the stuff we dreamed off, in very fucking wild dreams. Smashing the rags at home to win the league and have a pitch invasion in front of them. You couldn't make it up. And we were fucking half way there and cruising. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and we bottled it. Not only bottled it, but Tuesday apparently took precedence. Why? There's no way the scouse cunts won't score at least 2 goals, all they have to do is dare to attack us and our defence crap themselves and their heads start hanging. Awful mentality, we look like flat track bullies and it's just lucky nobody realised that until this week. For all the great footy we've played and all the records that will be broken, this season is ending in a damp squib. They'll all be resting easy tonight though, whilst I'm still trying to decide whether to laugh, cry, smash shit up or get really, really drunk. Whatever I do, what happened today will still be running on a loop on my mind. Cunts.