SCENES from the BOOT ROOM

From a small room deep in the heart of Anfield three wise men plot and scheme to keep their club at the helm of English football. King Kenny, nice guy Roy and Ronnie the mouth keep alive the Shankly and Paisley traditions of the Boot room. Over a steaming hot brew they chat and dissect tactics, discuss players. Who needs a kind word, who needs bringing down a peg. They talk of events elsewhere, who if anyone posed a threat to their superiority. Of knocking them off their Liver bird perch.
They talk about the Scotsman.

Ronnie the mouth holds court in the famed Liverpool boot room,
and relates his feeling towards the Scotsman cometh.

All these years dancing in our shade like a drunken uncle at a wedding. Staggering and stumbling, making a fool of themselves, whilst we, the glorious Liverpool football club waltz magnificent on the dance floor. All pomp, proud and strutting.
It takes time to build a dynasty. Bob and Shanks started this thing of ours and now we carry the torch. Here in this very room, our sceptred throne.
We walk on.
Nothing or nobody is strong enough to take us on.
Their mistake was failing to replace the old man with anyone of real substance. All were either too inexperienced or outsiders not suited to their way of doing things. Strangers in the dark. Blind to what the old man achieved for that place. Oblivious to how and simply too arrogant to learn.
Now finally it appears they have got someone with a backbone and true sense of history.
The word is this Scotsman is ripping that place apart. Slicing egos and breathing fire.
Our biggest nightmare has always been that someone comes along and awakes the sleeping Manc giant. For once it is stirred then God help us for a generation and one.
But nothing is set in stone boys, they may believe their path to glory has begun but walk on I say.
Let them come.
Will they ever learn in that grey, foreboding miserable city? Same old, same as.
He is going to deliver them from our evil. All mouth the Mancs, look at the history books and count their titles compared to ours. Count their European Cups.
Shouldn't take too long.
Talk is cheap and so boys I will quote you from our anthem.
'Don't be afraid of the storm'.
Chances are the Scotsman will win a medal this season, the OBE.
Out before Easter!
We play them next and it is essential he is left in no doubt his cause is hopeless. That the sleeping giant is not merely slumbering but dead and beyond resuscitation. Lets kill this horror out on the pitch before it becomes real.
Show them a little hope is a dangerous thing. That blind faith in false prophets leads not to the Promise land but disaster.
Bring on Boxing day.
For at Anfield we will show the Scotsman a real football club.

Liverpool 0 Manchester United 1