He is not injured. He's not fit. He's not fit to play football, unfortunately. He played in a reserve game the other day and I could have run about more than he did. I can't pick him.

You come here to Anfield, you stand there and listen to that crowd, and it's the greatest sight in football.

Scholes was playing tiki-taka football when nobody in England knew what it was. He was another of those players, like Denis Law or Bobby Moore, who at 15 probably looked as if he wouldn't make it. Too small, you would think - can't run, dumpy little ginger nut - but then the ball would come to him and he would dazzle you. He was the best footballer in that Manchester United midfield, better than Ryan Giggs and Roy Keane.

I've found myself on some days leaving home at three in the morning. I'm outside the training ground at five but they don't open up until seven. I'm just sitting there, listening to the radio.

The only relaxed boss is Big Ron. He had me drinking pink champagne - before the match.

If you can't pass the ball properly, a bowl of pasta's not going to make that much difference!

I left a couple of my foreigners out last week and they started talking in foreign. I knew they were saying "Blah, blah, blah, le bastard manager..."