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Just back from the match. If Gary Neville, now the venerated fount of all wisdom on matters association football, can declare to viewers on Sky that Liverpool FC has suffered years of neglect and is in need of rehabilitation it must, of course, be time to have yet another exhibition of this enigma of the north. Too intellectually and aesthetically limited to attempt the simple reporting lapped up by TLW masses, Usher was the victim of his style of hirsuite proletarian prose. Instead, I Sexrex, have decided to educate the masses of TLW. We must work very much harder to discern stylistic and technical developments of the art of match reporting, than the Hairy TLW Cornflake did, repetitive in that too many paintings of indifferent quality reporting hang cheek by jowl to make a trifling point, and misleading in that of the profound decline in his years when, drawing on habit and recollection, he imitated himself so clumsily that the genuine work was weak. It is thus not a retrospective but an illustration of the mistaken thesis. I will treat much the same subject with infinitely more compassionate and effective truth. It has been a great year for Virgin Trains dining with the arrival of, first, the Cheese and Pate & Wine deal, and, second, the Grab a Meal Deal both tempting the voyageur to be extravagant. The milieu social, however, proved a shade disappointing, its set among slabs of drab cheap decour and plastic tables that seem a survival of the not so Swinging Sixties, the kitchen activities at the voiture-bar (or buffet carriage, if you wish to use the vulgar term) providing theatre at the back. Though the iced tap water, dressed with lemon, was exactly what one expects in First Class. The staff were charming and attentive and I have no complaint of them but the food was, to be blunt, as amateur as anything one might see on some celebrity invitation programme on television. This is, however, an early judgment and may be premature:maybe I should try it again in a month or two, disguised as working class. Anyway I digress. As I sit here in chateau Rex, nursing a frayant glass of Vimto in my DFS sofa, I am ready to share some invaluable insights on the game today. Three new tyros on their debut, a directeur in his second season, sans victoire in season openers, a crotte de nez opponent. Oh how I salivated. An adequate start, redoubtable woodwork, a glissement de terrain of missed chances. A goalkeeper on the form of his career, and a penalty. This is Liverpool's reality. A good match in full.