A return to the shallow end

Or the sleazy end, as it may be. I've been in the depths of finals and papers since before Thanksgiving, which is my not-that-great excuse for radio silence. Since I've been gone:

• Liverpool topped their Champions League with a game to spare. Thank god, since they proceeded to lose to Galatasaray in the last game, despite Fowler's double. At least they're through now, though I'll miss not hearing the Champions League theme song until February.


• First away win of the season, baby. I still think the yellow kits are cursed somehow -- note that they were wearing red this time. I'm a bit amazed that they're fifth in the league, but if they keep playing like this, maybe fourth will happen. (On another note, when the commentators are openly acknowledging that you have to play in central midfield or else you'll pout? You are not being a good captain, but just another mediocre diva. Time to step up, Steven.)


• Liverpool got maybe, possibly, hypothetically bought by Dubai. Xabi Alonso is skeptical, and I am too, a little. More on this later, when and if the deal goes through.


• Shevchenko is leaving Chelsea. Or maybe not. They don't really need him now Drogba's figured out how to stay on his feet, and Milan never found an effective replacement. Also, Sheva looks like he hasn't slept a night since he left Milan. Homesickness? Or is he a vampire? It's unclear.
  

All good stories, and all worth talking about. However, the topic of discussion today? Sex tapes. Specifically, this. DEAR FOOTBALLERS: STOP MAKING SEX TAPES. They will get out, you will be embarrassed, and if you're at Sunderland, Roy Keane will probably give you a hairdryer treatment so extensive even Sir Alex would be impressed. It's only a matter of time before that video shows up on Youtube or some blog, and yeah. The chants will be legendary, I feel. Especially for the guy "performing a sexual act" while still wearing his sweater. I just . . . what? I don't have anything else to say that hasn't been said better by the Fiver. Except. DEAR FOOTBALLERS. STOP MAKING SEX TAPES. Or you'll still be talking about it five years later, and making this humble blogger vaguely ill. Yeah, I definitely meant the sleazy end of the pool, and that's without even linking the Stefan Postma video. Sorry.