The Story of The Kopby Andrew Lindsay

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This is an urgent appeal on behalf of the Mickeys you see pictured. After years of believing that they are the loudest, funniest, most feared and respected group of fans in the country, no, the world, they have recently been deflated.

It stems back to the sixties, when all Scousers, to a man, would get up at three o’clock every Saturday morning (after a hard Friday night touring the country, being ‘witty’) and do two milk rounds for free in the interests of the community. After this, they would go for an honest pint and then down to Anfield (the Mecca of football stadia, where Liverpool FC played at home every week) five hours before kick-off. They would not, under any circumstances, steal anything (such as cars, bikes, wallets or entire streets of cobbled stone) on their way to the ground from the pub.

Once at the ground, they would invariably head for THE KOP. This was the largest, loudest and funniest terrace in the land. And the world. And everyone knew it. If they didn’t, any Scouser would be only too happy to remind them. More than once if need be. Entry to The Kop was free as Liverpool were a kind and caring football club who cared only about the love of the backpass, sorry, beautiful game. However, all Scousers used to give a voluntary donation (roughly double the entrance fee to any other ground in the country) to a charity of their choice – usually the local police force or hospital, both of which were unfathomably more expensive to run than in any other British city.

Once inside the ground, the Mickeys would find a decent spot on the massive terrace. This often proved difficult as even at ten in the morning the Kop was full. It was packed to the rafters every week. Statistics prove this. More or less. All Scousers would carry with them a copy of The Liverpool Echo. It didn’t matter which one, as they never had time to read it due to their enormous amount of charity work. As sanitation in Liverpool was notably poor (they liked it this way as it brought them closer as a community) the Echo was used as a pipe, down which one would urinate into the back pocket of the person in front. Please don’t be offended by this: although it may seem vulgar, it was thought of as a sign of affection by the Mickeys, who were eager for everyone to smell roughly the same in the interests of the community.

For the next seven or eight hours (Scousers would stay in the ground well after the game to ‘bond’), The Kop would become a hotbed of banter and singing. As it’s so famous, there is no need to detail just how loud and funny it was, but here’s a little anecdote you won’t have heard, ever: once, the Leeds goalkeeper, Gary Sprake, dropped the ball, and the Kop… sorry, I’m laughing so much just thinking about it… started singing ‘Careless Hands’, which was a hit for someone at the time! I know, I know…

Anyway, after Liverpool had won the game (which they did every week, especially if they were playing Manchester United) and Mickeys could finally drag themselves away from the ground (again stealing nothing on the way home), they set about planning their evening. Actually, there wasn’t much to plan. As Liverpool fans (all Scousers) watched their team play at home every week instead of every fortnight, they would alternate between nightspots on a Saturday evening. As they were such a close-knit community, they would easily agree to separate into two groups and take it in turns to go either to the Albert Dock to watch one of Liverpool’s many brilliant comedians (the City is well known for this, just look at Stan Boardman, Les Dennis, Craig Charles etc.) or to the most famous music club in the whole world, The Cavern. This is where The Beatles played. All Scousers would watch the Fab Four every other Saturday night, as well as the many other brilliant bands who started ‘The Mersey Beat’ and whose names, unfortunately, have now been completely forgotten.

Now, however, these poor Mickeys need your help. They have been starved of success due to an evil conspiracy between Manchester United, all referees/ the FA/ the Star Signs/ Mystic Meg/ Satan, and have taken to ever more desperate measures of clown-like behaviour in a bid for some sympathy. The photograph above displays what is now considered normal match-day behaviour and it is getting worse. As recently as last season, in a game against hated ex-rivals Manchester United, the Mickeys even forgot which team they were support and started singing for Bayern Munich.

If it gets any worse it will be your fault. Any Scouser will tell you that: you are clearly victimising them. You have help to stop this. Please send any cheques to VanceProductions and we will pass it on. After all, there are only two things scarier than the thought of Mickeys worse than this: the ‘This Is Anfield’ sign and a Tommy Smith tackle. And we all know how scary they are…

'Against the grain, we shall remain...' - Leftfield, Dusted

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