Subsequent events have only confirmed the Pope's understandable conclusions. Chelsea's crucial midfield player Essien was induced by some malign influences to raise his voice to the referee during Tuesday's QF, prompting the official to book him and thus ensure he misses the next game against the said devil worshippers. An outbreak of the deadly "custodian lurgy" has already rendered Chelsea's two first team squad keepers also unable to play and leaving Chelsea only enough time to teach a possible replacement from Aston Villa how to clap his hands without missing one of them.

The Pope was heard to utter a primeval scream from his quarters today at the news that the devil worshippers were hoping to play their trump card against the forces of light by ensuring that Chelsea are managerless for the next game by exerting pressure on Mr Grant to live up to his racial obligations (as a member of the "Chosen One's") and refrain from his duties on Holocaust Day that the devil worshippers have ensured falls on the day of the game.

We are all asked to pray for the pope in his current dilemma but to reassure him that thousand upon thousands of Evertonians world-wide fully empathise with his despair.

The season is over and the transfer rumours begin
We are linked with quality and eventually buy shite
We check the internet 10 times an hour just in case we sign somebody
The transfer window closes and we feel kind of flat
We get denied another penalty
And Liverpool win again.

And don?t you just hate it when,
We never get penalties
Liverpool always get penalties
The fat waiter smiles
Gerrard scores a goal
More glory nights at Anfield
We lose a game
We get denied another penalty
And Liverpool win again

And don?t you just hate it when
Kenwright talks about Kirkby
KEIOC talk about conspiracies
Mark Lawrenson talks about Everton
Wyness talks about ANYTHING
We get denied another penalty
And Liverpool win again

And don?t you just hate it when
Neville plays in midfield
Neville plays at fullback
Neville misplaces another pass
Neville is in the starting eleven
We get denied another penalty
And Liverpool win again

And don?t you just hate it when
To finish Fourth becomes a goal
We loose to crap teams in the FA cup
We bottle it when we play the big three
We bottle it when we play Liverpool
We get denied another penalty
And Liverpool win again

And don?t you just hate it when
Mark Clattenburg referees our games
Mark Clattenburg wakes up in the morning
Mark Clattenburg takes a breath of air
Mark Clattenburg does anything
We get denied another penalty
It's no fucking wonder that Liverpool keep winning!

Like father like son and now my own kids are fanatical blues. Despite the Red silverware, supporting Liverpool to me seems like watching ITV on a Saturday night, keeping a Rottweiler on a chain outside, wearing a baseball cap backwards, wearing a medallion, driving a P reg Corsa with fluffy dice, watching tribute bands and having holidays in Benidorm.

In short LFC are common oiks. All fur coat and no knickers. I pity their poor supporters who watch a corporate circus rather than a football club.

Although I?m well aware that Everton are pushing for inclusion in next year's advertising extravaganza, a part of me can?t help wishing we don?t make it. I?ve heard it said by a million lottery winners that money changes a person; therefore the same might be true of us. You don?t know what you?ve got ?til it?s gone, we most certainly will the day we finally grace this most prestigious of product placements. I don?t want to get all bleary eyed with sentimentality, but I think we?re better than all that hoopla.

I don?t want to turn into Liverpool, so entrenched in the razzmatazz of European football they forget all about the people back home; waiting eternally for a first Premier League trophy. We may not be any nearer the prize than they are, but we would certainly never give Harry Kewell a game through choice.

I?ve heard all the arguments about returning to our rightful place and that the Champions League is the only way to get there. But what is our rightful place? I would suggest it was some time in the heady days of the 1980s. When the European Cup was played out by League winners and when players would not feel duty bound to associate with the fans and did so because they wanted to, not because it was good PR.

Do we really want to associate ourselves with the money obsessive of the modern game? Sometimes you should be careful what you wish for. The Russian and Texan oil barons will be readying themselves for the latest gold rush as we speak.

In view of Liverpool?s latest success, I tried to imagine ways that could ease my guilt were we ever to qualify for the tournament via the back door. It drew me to their much lauded victory in the 2005 final and the fact that at the time of their success, they had failed to win the English league in 15 prior attempts. To make me feel better, I devised three requests to put to UEFA in readiness for our inclusion in next year?s tournament. Only then would I feel able to face all those turgid glamour ties and properly digest my Amstel.

1. The word ?Champion?s League? be removed from the trophy for the year 2005 and be replaced with a more suitable moniker such as ?European Exhibition Vase? or ?The UEFA Commemorative Cup for Effort.?

2. That Liverpool FC be expelled from the tournament until such a time as they stop devaluing all domestic competitions with the presence of Dirk Kuyt.

3. In the interest of fairness, every single team who have won the top division in England since its conception in 1888 is awarded yearly entry into the Champions League qualifying draw. This would go some way towards explaining Liverpool?s annual appearance and the baffling use of the word ?Champions.?

I will await Monsieur Platini?s answer with anticipation?

?Another person?s success does not make you a failure.? Noel Edmonds (The Cosmic Order)

?I see God?s team did it again? (Dave the Blue from my work)

Baulking and biting your lip at the same time is a difficult facial configuration to pull off. But as I dived out of my red infested work?s canteen yesterday lunchtime I experienced this involuntary spasm, I?d like to say for the first time, but alas for what seems like the zillionth time.

For this is the product of being an Evertonian in a time where red is the colour and reality defying logic is their game. Time and time again I approach these ?Anfield Glory Nights? (Copywright the Meeja) with a steely willed intention to go for a drive or take my annual visit to the gym. Obviously, this never happens; I sit there, convince myself this could be the night where it turns to rat shit for them and then watch the inevitable unfold in front of my eyes. A red commented on Wednesday morning how nervous he was watching it on telly, I can?t really believe that; if I was a red I think I?d just chill out, sit back and watch the LFC victory unfold ? no need to get uptight because it always turns out ok for them in the end. Bitter and twisted? You betcha.

My escape from the canteen took me straight to the sanctuary of Toffeeweb, where I admitted my feelings in a post to the mailbag, conscious of the response from a following who prefer (quite rightly) to keep the site strictly blue and not anti-red. I was pleased with the support my posting got because it seemed to reflect the views of all the Evertonians I know ? they hate Liverpool, simple as that.

On one hand, there is no shame in that, it?s what football is all about ? good old fashioned rivalry ? and lets face it, they don?t like us much either. However, Micky Norman?s succinct post has got me thinking: is that the way to cure my bitter angst? Is it time to admit they belong to a different footballing stratosphere and save my emotion solely for EFC? That would certainly make life easier, but then as I sit here at midday waiting for Football Focus to start I can?t help but think, ?how can they belong to a different stratosphere when we could be level with them in five hours time?? Perhaps that?s were the ultimate heartbreak lies for me: the fact that we are, on one level, so close to them; the fact that our tremendous improvement coincides with their incomprehensible successes; the fact that our most successful season in years is coming to an end and all I seem to feel is apathy.

So, do Oldham Athletic fans spend hours consoling themselves after Manchester United victories? Of course they don?t. They knew very well that they wouldn?t be winning European Cups the minute they committed to the Latics; they doubtless celebrate beating Tranmere as much as United celebrate beating Tottenham; they look back to glory days like FA Cup semi finals in the nineties and winning at Goodison with as much fondness as United fans do reminiscing about the treble. The joys and despairs of supporting a football club are relative to the expectations of your own club, not the size of the others. So, by bowing to the media and applying this logic to our grand old selves, can we ease our woes? Is it time we held our hands up in the air and admitted we are a smaller club than them and so finishing top of a sixteen team league is comparable to finishing fourth in a four team league?

I know what my answer to this is, but is there anyone out there who believes this is the way forward? I hope not, I really do: I became a football fan when it all seemed so much fairer. Back then, it seemed that if they won the league one year, we won it the next; if they were in the cup final, so were we. So I?ll never accept the Oldham analogy, but I just wonder of there are those who think it is the way to ease the anguish.