It was a surprise to learn that Fernando Torres wants his children to grow up and be Scousers.
Many would say it's impossible to do both.
The thing about Liverpudlians, as Torres has no doubt found, is that to a man they have a childlike sense of fun.
I'm not talking about the famous Scouse wit - like money, some Scousers have it; most don't.
I'm talking about the ability to find enjoyment where none should exist, like a funeral, an industrial strike, or an Everton match.
In London, those who have any dosh left after paying the mortgage rush home at 11pm because they have to work the next morning. In Liverpool they stay out until the wee small hours because they have to work the next morning.
I told a Cockney mate that I was writing a piece about why it's great to be a Scouser and asked if he had any advice.
"Lie," he said.
That's the thing about non-Scousers. They really haven't a clue what a joy Liverpool is to live in.
They rely on Merseyside stereotypes, perhaps because Merseysiders have nicked most of their stereos.
They shudder when they see our boarded-up shops - but rather those than boarded-up minds.
They shake their heads when they read of Croxteth gang crime, ignoring the inconvenient truth that Liverpool is the safest of all English cities for everyone bar Sun readers.
My missus is a Cockney who would never dream of leaving Liverpool now, even if I untied her. Thousands of the students who spend three years here on half a lager choose to stay on and have their homes here, their homes repossessed here, and ultimately their homes burgled here.
They put up with the bad eggs of the city - as bad as any eggs you'll find - because the good eggs, the vast majority, are the warmest, most generous of all.
That's exactly what Torres has discovered in less than two years on Merseyside. He has opened his heart to Liverpool and in return Liverpool has opened its heart to him. It helps of course that he scores bundles yet doesn't nick our orange girls off us, but we'd love him anyway.
And as for his daughter speaking Liverpudlian - a hybrid of Spanish and Scouse would sound most appealing, unless of course it was called Spouse.
Many would say it's impossible to do both.
The thing about Liverpudlians, as Torres has no doubt found, is that to a man they have a childlike sense of fun.
I'm not talking about the famous Scouse wit - like money, some Scousers have it; most don't.
I'm talking about the ability to find enjoyment where none should exist, like a funeral, an industrial strike, or an Everton match.
In London, those who have any dosh left after paying the mortgage rush home at 11pm because they have to work the next morning. In Liverpool they stay out until the wee small hours because they have to work the next morning.
I told a Cockney mate that I was writing a piece about why it's great to be a Scouser and asked if he had any advice.
"Lie," he said.
That's the thing about non-Scousers. They really haven't a clue what a joy Liverpool is to live in.
They rely on Merseyside stereotypes, perhaps because Merseysiders have nicked most of their stereos.
They shudder when they see our boarded-up shops - but rather those than boarded-up minds.
They shake their heads when they read of Croxteth gang crime, ignoring the inconvenient truth that Liverpool is the safest of all English cities for everyone bar Sun readers.
My missus is a Cockney who would never dream of leaving Liverpool now, even if I untied her. Thousands of the students who spend three years here on half a lager choose to stay on and have their homes here, their homes repossessed here, and ultimately their homes burgled here.
They put up with the bad eggs of the city - as bad as any eggs you'll find - because the good eggs, the vast majority, are the warmest, most generous of all.
That's exactly what Torres has discovered in less than two years on Merseyside. He has opened his heart to Liverpool and in return Liverpool has opened its heart to him. It helps of course that he scores bundles yet doesn't nick our orange girls off us, but we'd love him anyway.
And as for his daughter speaking Liverpudlian - a hybrid of Spanish and Scouse would sound most appealing, unless of course it was called Spouse.
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