Liverland 2002

Liverland 2002
��

��

�� , �� , �� , �� Koptalk (http://www.koptalk.com) � �� Paul Graham.

24th April 2003
Exclusively for KopTalk.com by the internet legend that is Paul Graham:
AN EASTER STORY

(Dedicated to St Carl Ellis the Social Worker, whoever he is.)

And so it came to pass that the Messiah, that was called Liverpool Football Club, did come to the Last Supper with his disciples, which numbered eleven - twelve if you count the sub. These disciples were: St Bill, St Bob, St Joe, St Kenny, St Yeats, St Thomas of Smith, St John, St Roger, St Rushie, St Kevin and St Gerard the Frenchman. And there they all did sit and wait to hear what the Messiah had to say.
"We have come a long way," spake the Messiah. "We have come a long way and have done many great deeds together. We have spread the word to the good people of this land, and to many other lands both far and wide. We have spread the word across Europe - to Rome, twice, to Wembley and to Paris. Many have joined the faith, even though the temptation of the Red Devil has always been with us. But soon it will be time for me to leave you all."
"No!" cried the disciples. "Please don't leave us, Lord. What will we do without you? We're buggered if we'll follow anyone else. Mind you, there are some who already are. But why must you leave us?"
"Because," replied the Messiah, "I'm crap. I used to be good at this saviouring lark, but not any more. Frankly, I'm shit, and it's time I packed it all in. But do not worry, for I will return one day. Although I will soon be put to death I will return, and when I do you'd best not have gone off supporting somebody else. Nevertheless, before I do leave you, one of you will betray me."
"Who?" cried the disciples. "We would never betray you!"
"I would," came a whining Scouse voice from under the table. It was St Steven of McManaman.
"I know you would," spake the Messiah, "for thou art nothing but a money-grabbing little prick. Go on, bugger off before you get my sandal up your arse!"
And then the room did fall silent as the Messiah did break the bread and dish out the old plonk. But there was no plonk left, for it had all been drunk by some Scottish pretend Messiah by the name of St Alex of the Pickled Liver. And then the Messiah did spaketh once more. "One of you will indeed betray me...and my money's on the Frenchman."
And everyone did agree.
After the Last Supper they all went to the Garden of Melwood, where they did partake of one last kickabout for old times' sake. All except St Gerard, who had gone off to the baddies to do his dirty deed. And then the baddies came looking for the Messiah, because Gerard had led them there. Gerard walked up to the Messiah and kissed him, then got a black eye for his trouble because we can't have that sort of thing at training grounds.
"Why do you betray me?" asked the Lord.
"Because I'm French," replied Gerard. "It's in my nature. I don't give a flying shit about you or your religion. All I want is the money. I'm getting thirty pieces of silver for this, and that's cheap at half the price."
So they took Him away and brought Him before the court and the King - another pissed up Scottish twat by the name of Pontius Ferguson, who had a face like a smacked arse. "You say you are a leader of men," slurred the drunken piggy-eyed bastard. "Well, I'm the King now. Got it? And see me, by the way...I'm taking over where you left off. I will destroy you and your faith and wipe out your deeds so that everyone will forget who you were. I'll see that you never win another championship...er, I mean never come your Messiah crap round here ever again. Take him away and crucify him. Now...hic...pass the Johnnie Walker."
So they took Him away and put Him into the jail with all the lowlife, the thieves, the robbers, the rubbish and the human waste. And there He languished for some time, mid-table and without a hope of getting out. Soon a large crowd gathered outside the jail, shouting and chanting, for it was the custom at such times for one prisoner to be released. And now the people did clamour for the prisoner they wanted to be set free.
"Release Heskey!" cried some.
"Release Smicer!" cried others.
"Release Diouf!"
"Release Traore! For f***'s sake just let him go!!!"
"Release Owen!"
Whereupon the King, who was just about conscious, realising that there was indeed a prisoner of that name, ordered Owen to be released. Then he took him off with him to Manchester. For another thirty pieces of silver.
Later that night, some of the disciples were sitting having a drink. All except Gerard because he had gone and spent his thirty pieces of silver on some other pile of shite from a second-rate French team. Other people saw the disciples and started asking them if they knew the Messiah. "We have seen you with him," they said. "We have seen you with your red shirts on and your stickers in your car windows. You are followers of the one they call Liverpool Football Club."
"No," said the disciples. "You are wrong. We do not know Him. He is a stranger to us and that's a fact. We wouldn't recognise the one you call Liverpool Football Club if He came up and bit us on the arse."
Fair enough.
And then the final whistle blew, or the cock crowed or whatever, and that was that.
The Messiah was taken and given a cross to bear, a very large cross with the inscription "LFCE" - Liverpool Former Champions of Europe. And as He carried the cross through the streets, everyone did mock Him cruelly. From the tribes of Everton, Newcastle, Chelsea and Arsenal they did come. And especially the Scum of Mancunia. They scourged Him and spat at Him, cursed and said things like: "Fourteen seasons!" and "He'll never carry that cross on His own." When He reached the top of the hill, He was then nailed to the cross for all to see and left to die.
And from the watching followers of other faiths there came a sudden tremendous chorus of "Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life".
Bastards!
Some time later, once He was dead and well stinking, He was cut down from the cross and placed in a hole in the ground. His body bore the ravages and many scars of His ultimate undoing: several humiliating defeats against inferior opposition during the Souness years; numerous hammerings against piss-poor European sides; those white suits at Wembley in 1996; a league position of 8th and the signings of Stan Collymore, Julian Dicks and Paul frigging Stewart.
"Never mind," spaketh the disciples to one another - those who were left and hadn't gone off to follow someone else. "The Messiah will return, just as He said He would. He will one day rise again and be among us. He will lead us all to more glorious things. He will come again and be our saviour."
So they waited...
...and waited.
But nothing happened.
Because if you believe such bollocks you're even madder than I am.
Happy Easter...and behave yourselves.