I shall never drink Carling again!

Too many cliches occur and block my efforts to express the feelings and experience of Sunday's narrow defeat: roller coaster, passion & pride, sick as a parrot.

Suffice to say the boys done good and we're proud of them. Or to use Harry's exact words: 'I'm well pleased with the lads.'

This is all apart from:

a) Pav's free kick (nyet, nyet, I take, I am striker, look.... Chyort voz'mi! I hit big screen)
b) Bentley's penalty. He can put a ball in a skip from a hundred yards for a Rolex (see below) but can he hit a sodding barn door or Ben Foster from 12? The answer is no.

It was actually quite emotional. Most fans stayed to cheer the players when they went up for their medals (compare Chelski fans last year who were heading back to the Bridge before the final whistle blew) and there was none of the churlish 'I didn't care about this mickey mouse cup' attitude that I remember from '82 when Liverpool beat us. At the end of that game we sang 'Stick your milk cup up your arse'. It was a bigger trophy in those days too.

Bentley from 40

Judging by this it seems the answer to David Bentley's feeble shot to goal ratio is to put a skip in the goal. Presumably at the Library he saw one in the stand and went for it. Why oh why can't harry do this one simple thing? At last count he had the highest number of unsuccessful shots in the Premier League at 56. At least he has scored once though and in some style. Stuart Downing showed in his woeful performance against Spain last night why he's had 44 shots and not found the net; he's rubbish. Thank God we didn't buy him.