It’s a results business, football. And results tend to form the prism through which you view your club and, in particular, its manager.
Well then, 2016, the year when loads of famous people shuffled off this mortal coil, the British public voted to cut off their noses to spite their faces, and not the faces of the ‘hordes’ of immigrants, as they had been led to believe, while over in the US the political landscape finally dissolved once and for all into a nightmarish bad trip scene from a 70s exploitation film, with some weird cunt running around wearing a blood-stained rabbit head and Donald Trump’s big orange face looming out of the shadows, lit harshly from below and laughing maniacally.
Boss, that, Everton. Boss.
Bit unfair that title, but if they go and win against Crystal Palace we won’t be able to use it.