Well, although it's business as usual in the English league, with some pleasingly guttural cries currently being heard from one man in the crowd at the Liverpool/Fulham match, things are a bit topsy-turvy in the Latin nations. Of which more later.
Everyone who wasn't talking about the Grand National today was talking about Shearer going back to the Toon (and I'm sorry, but Iain Dowie?? WTF??!!) and the hugeness of the popularity of this decision by the derisive Mr Ashley. But there they are. Fucked - again - by Chelsea and still teetering on the precipice. Similarly, Spurs are shooting themselves in the foot again (though I hear the ref wasn't up to scratch - but them's the breaks, eh? Loved Harry's sarcastic little rant on 5 Live as well. He's real value for money, isn't he?)
For the religiously connected actress role, this is how I see it. As it stands, the Baggies obviously, Boro looking dead certs now, and...? That's the $64,000 question. My gut feeling is that the Geordies (despite the presence of Mary P) and the Mackems (what a strange accent Ricky Sbragia has) are looking increasingly dodgy. Stoke are too hard and their ground is on a piece of land magically transported from Siberia. Blackburn are just bastards, as are Bolton, and they should stay clear. Pompey are likely candidates along with Hull.
We could of course see any of a number of teams sucked into the vortex - including Spurs and City. I didn't see the game up the Arse today, but the little I've heard hasn't exactly given me the feeling that we battled hard and didn't deserve to lose. From what I can gather, there were some naughty tackles and a fair bit of luck that we didn't lose by a lot more than the two. Additionally, Robinho has again attracted negative publicity. We should be safe, but it's been a largely underwhelming season, enlivened only by the endless 'Europa League' adventure and the bringing on of Martin Jol and his bunch of hamburgers.
My second favourite footy story of the week has been the lifetime ban for Barry Ferguson and that other twat. Hail hail!
But, on to my favourite footy story, set in North America geographically, and South America spiritually. The shock hammering of the Argies high up among the coffee beans comes hard on the heels of the recent sacking of the Mexico manager. Anyone who has been reading this for a while may remember that I originally styled it 'I Am Sven's Love Child' and spent many pointless hours spewing words on to the page about the great man. I was genuinely saddened when he left - especially as he was replaced by the Welsh breeze (wind is too strong for him) bag. So I look forward (thanks to my non-football-following friend for the surprise tweet) to the possibility of a return.