From bad to worse for Liverpool

Few of us like Monday but The Fifth Official does, for it brings with it a chance for him to point the finger and laugh. Here he pulls out the pretty, the puzzling and the downright pig-ugly from a five-star weekend.

Bye bye, Benitez

Rafa may have lanced the boil with last week's ambush of Manchester United but who'd have thought little old Fulham would have pushed them back towards the precipice? They're such a nice, accommodating club, led by such a nice, accommodating man, that you somehow thought they'd instruct Bobby Zamora to continue his policy of trying to reach Mars with any open goal chances that fell his way.

It took 20 minutes of Voronin, Degen, Kyrgiakos and Lucas stroking it around for Fulham to realise just what a second rate shower they were up against, after which they set about dismantling Liverpool's title hopes like excitable five-year-olds attacking a block of jelly. Zamora even managed to right the wrong of Man City with a cool finish from six yards out, before shushing his own fans, as if it was an example of what a top-drawer striker he really is. You were six yards out for heaven's sake, Bob.

If having the profligate Zamora pot one against you was bad enough, allowing Erik Nevland enough freedom to score signalled a collective loss of consciousness from those in red. Degen was dismissed for a robust tackle on Clint Dempsey, before Jamie Carragher got the red card that's been in the post for a week after hauling down the now unstoppable Zamora. His squeaky protests were so high-pitched only dogs could hear them and he took an age to slope off the pitch. He finally disappeared, seconds before Liverpool's title aspirations.

How interesting to note the teams that have beaten Liverpool in the league this season: Fulham, Aston Villa, Chelsea, Tottenham and Sunderland. Those, Rafa, are indisputable FACTS.

Sympathy for the Devil

Yes, I admit it. For a split second on Saturday I actually felt a pang of sympathy for Phil Brown. By the time I realised what the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach was it had gone, and just to make sure it never came back I asked Mrs TFO to give me an almighty slap round the chops with a particularly meaty turbot she happened to have to hand.

Not only did Burnley get a penalty after Tyrone Mears fell over the ball but the Tigers had a perfectly good Geovanni free-kick ruled out for a non-existent push. The Brazilian was booked for his understandable reaction, then given his marching orders when he slipped into Steven Fletcher. Those talking points aside, Hull were woeful once again.

Brown strode off the field purposefully, applauding the away fans, most of who were probably flicking him the bird in return, but in his post-match interview came the moment when the realisation hit and you could have snapped his dwindling morale like an anorexic sparrow's leg. When asked about the referee's performance he responded by saying: "Gee, it's hot in here isn't it?" Yes it is, Phil. And its getting hotter.

Deep down Dindane's deadly

In truth, I'd never heard of Aruna DIndane before he pitched up at Pompey's bring-and-buy sale but that didn't stop me writing him off at break-neck speed. For weeks it seemed as if he was locked in his own "miss of the season" battle with Bobby Zamora but after the Fulham's striker's nadir at Man City last week Dindane knew he'd lost and vowed to start scoring instead.

And to be fair to him, he can finish. Just ask Wigan. Granted, it helped he caught Roberto Martinez's side on a day when they looked about as much use as a chocolate fireguard, but they still needed to be put away.

Not only did Dindane get off the mark but Frederic Piquionne registered his first league goal too. The Fratton Park faithful had to rub their eyes as the players ran down the clock with a string of passes that attracted the ole treatment. Paul Hart could at last get home on a Saturday night, throw off his tracksuit, run a bath, listen to some Kenny G and relax. Despite their emphatic win they are still bottom, although a victory at Blackburn next week will change all that, and provoke a Kenny G encore.

Don't go there, Keano

Spurs just can't help themselves can they? Despite being dropped like a leper by Rafa in favour of David Ngog, Andriy Voronin and Ryan Babel, chirpy Robbie Keane somehow found the stones to say that Harry now had a better squad at his disposal than Arsene Wenger ahead of Saturday's norf Laaahndaaan showdown at the Emirates. The Gunners put that to bed in 10.8 seconds, roughly the same time it took Rafa to realise Keane wasn't his cup of tea during his first training session.

Heck, it was such a quick-fire double even broadcasting monolith Sky missed it. There we were happily reviewing Robin van Persie's opener when the pictures cut back to the ball resting snugly in Tottenham's net. Again. It was only the fact that Fabregas was peeling away in celebration that convinced us it was 2-0 and that Arsenal were home and hosed.

Spurs have had a rotten time with their centre backs already this season, so the last thing they needed was the usually reliable Ledley King turning in the sort of performance associated with Jean-Alain Boumsong circa 2006. Never has Ledley corpsed so badly, except when he's falling out of nightclubs of course. No doubt Robbie will be looking about as sheepish as a sheep in training this morning.

Allardyce, your patter honks

There will be fans of Big Sam out there, God knows why but there will be. I can't stand the man, as you have probably deduced over the past year or so. People often ask why I loathe him to such an extent, and after Saturday's defeat at Manchester United he offered up a perfect, unprompted example, in reply to a question about the goal Rovers had wrongly chalked off. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, allow me to introduce exhibit A.

"He [Nikola Kalinic] was so far onside it is unbelievable that the assistant referee got it wrong," he whinged. "It wasn't even close. People will say 'Sam's moaning again' but I like to moan when I know I'm right. And I've been right for ten years managing at this level."

Now, I'm pretty sure Sam's got a sizeable pair of cojones on him but how he can pluck up such a foul-smelling mix of self-righteousness and arrogance after his side had sat so deep at Old Trafford they may as well have been quoffing Bovril with their away fans is beyond me. Were you right at Newcastle, Sam? Were you right when you signed Joey Barton, Sam? I rest my admittedly brief case.