Roker Rhymes: It Certainly Wasn't A Thriller, But Here We Are Talking Aston Villa

So, there you have it. Proof if it were need that if I don't see the game, we win. If I do, we get the kind of indifferent offering that Saturday threw up. I need to start watching us less often!

Anyway, here's this week's poetic take on the weekend's action, which in itself was far, far from poetic...

The hype was huge for this one, Darren was coming back.
And although he would call us hysterical, defeat might have got Bruce the sack.
But thankfully it didn't come to that, although it was a difficult one to see,
As I don't know if I liked what happened, or whether to be happy about what we did see.

Well their first goal was a corker, although questions should be asked of the defence,
And when Petrov's shot hit the top corner, the atmosphere did get quite tense.
But thankfully Brucey played Connor, and our youngster replied with aplomb,
As he unleashed one with his left peg, and we weren't actually trailing for long.

There was lots to be happy about with Wickham, he worked hard and he led the line well,
And his potential is actually limitless, it's just a case really of time, it will tell.
But for now let's just celebrate his first goal, for our team in the red and the white,
And laugh that at the other end, wor Darren played rather... poo.

Lots had been made of his comeback, the ill-feeling was there for all to see,
Though he only touched the ball about six times, so now it's gone, we can all let it be.
Safe in the knowledge we don't miss him, and the atmosphere seemed to take its toll,
As Westwood stuck out a leg to save, what should really have been quite a simple goal.

The second half was a poor ordeal really, played at a pace not much more than a walk,
It really does make you wonder, about the quality of Bruce's half-time team talk.
And utter dread it did come over me, when Dunne leaped and headed Villa in front,
Which was strange as he normally notches at the other end, the big, massive, huge Irish ....

But thank god we still had stuff in the tank, and we still had something to cheer,
As little Sess met Seb's cross, and we could all go enjoy a nice beer.
How the smallest man on the pitch scored a header, only Alex McLeish will know,
And although we didn't get the three points, at least it wasn't our usual horror show.

So onwards we march to Old Trafford, to take on the devils of red,
And let us all make a prediction, using our heart, rather than head.
I'm going for a two-nil victory, Sess and Seb are my goal-scoring picks,
Infact, do you know what? Sod it. Let's go there and knock them for six!