deiseach

Remembrance of the disaster was the theme at church yesterday so my son asked what happened. I explained, then he asked what happened to the police officers who presided over it. The look on his face when I said "nothing" was heartbreaking. Even now, innocence is being lost. RIP.

What I have learned from this thread: Hotdogs and Coke: bad Pies and Bovril: good,

I missed the second 'shagger' the first time round. I'm losing my touch, clearly spending too much time around Protestants/Brits [delete according to what will outrage the usual suspects the most].

She's not pretending otherwise, fair play to her: As responses to being 'found out' go, she could teach Phil McNulty a thing or two.

I don't know. Is it contagious?

A wise and just response.

I'm not proposing calling HER a unionist poppy shagger. She knows I think that. I'm asking whether I can use the insult on others without being labelled sectarian because I have a unionist poppy shagger wife.

Did that ever get an airing in the ground?

Can you call someone a unionist poppy shagger if you're married to a unionist poppy shagger? Asking for a friend?

I've managed to get my son interested in board games. We've had some epic games of Pandemic, X-Wing and Memoir 44. The little git has the luck of the devil. If he needs four crits/tanks, he'll roll four crits/tanks. Unfortunately I can't get my wife hooked. She has always enjoyed any games we've played with her - I got Wingspan with her specifically in mind - but she would rather be doing something else with her time.

Dave touched on it recently and it got a full airing in this podcast: what defines the Klopp era is the home form. My record in games I've been at under Klopp is P35 W28 D7 L0 F100 A27. That doesn't tell the whole story though. Only once did Liverpool take the lead and fail to win, and that was the 5-5 draw with Arsenal in the League Cup that was won on penalties. Most incredibly though, they've gone behind 13 times in those games. 13! The consensus yesterday was that the Man City-Arsenal game was dogshit viewing, Mr Freedom-For-Catalonia-Slavery-For-Abu-Dhabi and his (footballing) protege stinking the place out with their forensic view of the game. Chris seemed a little awkward about saying it has been a privilege to get to see so many games with Klopp as the manager. I'm quite unabashed about it. It's been such a thrill, and when things go to shit (relatively speaking) in the next few years, I'm determined that I'll view this period as a case of 'tis better to have loved and lost' than marinating in misery.

It looks like he is the man you thought he was. Unfortunately. that's worked against Liverpool.

Today in Northern Ireland: Meanwhile, the 61-year-old leader of the DUP has deleted all his social media accounts.

Early on we get a POV from a fox. The way the book evolved in the writing is fascinating in itself.

The interrogation of the man at the helm by Baltimore PD was fraught:

Supporting Liverpool > supporting royalty/Tory-supporting family

My brother put it very well: if he chooses Liverpool, he's Klopp. If he chooses Bayern, he's Guardiola.

I managed to feel a real pang of sorrow when I saw her on the front page of my father-in-law's Express this morning as it brought back memories of another time when she had to put on a show for the cameras when she was in no fit state for it. She gave birth to her first child a few weeks after my wife had our son - both called George, something that pleases my royalist wife no end as she can good-humouredly claim that they were copying us; simple pleasures - and the performance she had to put on for 'her public' was grotesque. She looked like death warmed up, and the thought that anyone might have put my wife through such an ordeal in her condition at the time made my blood boil. But this is the Faustian pact the British monarchy has made with the British press, and I compare the latter to Mephistopheles in the strongest way possible. They, to quote Stanley Baldwin, exercise "power without responsibility - the prerogative of the harlot throughout the ages". It's easy to imagine she and her family agonising over how much to put into the public domain about her condition, agonies that are not going to help her recovery from that condition. Well, I hate to break this to you, Kate, but you were never going to get it right, because they are pure fucking evil.

So close... Now it's Provo perfect.

An evergreen post on the subject of whaling on teams whose resources are a fraction of the resources available to the likes of Liverpool.

When watching things on the telly she will ask me questions that have no answer. Last night we were watching Dune in preperation for seeing the second part in the cinema tonight and she asks me how the spice works. Well, it gets into the blood stream and interacts with the dark matter that connects all the atoms in the universe...I don't know, it's bloody magic! On the other hand, we have watched both seasons so far of The Wheel of Time and she hasn't asked a single question. What would I know about it, I've only read all fourteen fucking books.

I remember scoffing at the carpet slippers and pipe brigade in the Main Stand. Life comes at you fast.

I can't be doing with the Kop any more.

Kudos for denouncing the despicable Foden chant.

Absolute cunts.