I must say, this is what I feared might happen.
Just when it seemed that history was about to beat the delusion out of the average Mouser, they go and get a lucky result against a very ordinary Swansea XI.
Sure, they'll have all been out tonight, in their shell-suits, partying hard to Cilla Black and Holly Johnson records, and I would not want to deny them a little bit of "party" time, to let go of some of the hurt and misery that has dogged them these past three or four seasons, but the problem is that the average Mouser finds it extremely difficult to separate fact from fantasy. Idiots like DayDoDoeDon'tDayDo will be, once again, proclaiming BRENTan Rodgers to be the resurrected Bill Shankley, and Zingy will be dusty off his scarf from the 70s (the one with the faded image of Stevie Highway on it).
This result changes nothing. Indeed, it will do nothing other than to invite more misery into the lives of the average Mouser, since the next match, and the defeat that is surely to come will prove the Swansea match to have been nothing more than a false dawn.
And, you know what? It's not even the thought of chirpy Mousers invading our board with their misplaced bravado over the next few days that concerns me, since they are entertaining enough; it's the fact that complete and utter numpties like Stan Collymore, Mark Saggers and other assorted Klanfield-loving media pundits will be rubbing their cocks with glee, and telling us all how 'Pool really do have what's needed to finish in the top 4. It's all so bloody predictable, and so very tiresome.
