The angry brigade: why are Liverpool fans perpetually annoyed?

If you've been to the cinema recently you can't help but have seen the Chanel advert starring skimmed milk-made-flesh, Nicole Kidman. Directed by Baz Luhrrman, Kidman is some big shot star who hitches a ride in a cab to escape the paparazzi only to find herself copping off with the bloke inside like some tanked-up chicken factory worker on a staff night out.

Truly, this advert is crap. Expensive, "glamourous" – yes, but crap too, really, really crap. 'I was the only person in the world who didn't know who she was,' breathes the male lead, sounding like a befuddled grandad who's been forced to watch T4 by a gang of tufty-haired teenagers. 'But that didn't stop me shagging her on the roof of my preposterous flat with a big Chanel sign on top of it' -– he should have added.

None of this would be worthy of note if it wasn't for the despicable, utterly self-indulgent credits that come after this tosh. Really, do the people who made the advert really think that a load of fatties waiting to watch Casino Royale really give a shit about the "team" behind it? It's an advert, nothing more. The real scandal is how much these pricks get paid for producing rubbish like this. If those figures came out then perhaps more of us would take an interest. And then torture them with pliers.