"There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. But always — do not forget this, Winston — always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face . . . for ever"

This is one of the most striking passages in George Orwell's novel 1984, and to me, his description of a future dystopia is the perfect metaphor for the Premier League Big Four and their chokehold on domestic honours, aided and abetted by Sky Sports and the horrific carousel that is Grand Slam Sunday - a phlegm projectile in the face of supposed 'random' fixture lists.

And if you really want to be sick with outrage just look at this: Manchester United, Chelsea, Arsenal, Manchester United, Chelsea, Liverpool, Arsenal, Arsenal, Manchester United, Arsenal, Liverpool, Chelsea.

'It is a slingshot aimed at the eyes of those four footballing leviathans - a rare occasion, and one to savour'


That disgustingly repetitive mantra is the list of all the FA Cup winners since Everton won it in 1995, not only is that the last time an upset of even vaguely seismic proportions happened, but it is the last time any team outside the Big Four has had their hands on the FA Cup. A shockingly depressing statistic, akin to an Orwellian boot stamping on the faces of the plucky underdog.

The absence of the Big Four from the FA Cup finals is brilliant for football; it is a slingshot aimed at the eyes of those four footballing leviathans - a rare occasion, and one to savour.

It is brilliant because the trite guff that gets trotted out about the magic of the game was exposed as just being a method of anaesthetising the proles. "Look everyone!" bellow the tabloids as they point to a Premier League team getting beaten by a minnow. "It's the magic of the FA Cup!" No it isn't - one individual game isn't magic - it is just an upset; three non-Premier League teams in the semi-finals - now that is magic.

For too long we have been satiated by the occasional Premier League pratfall, with Big Brother Sky happy to give the plucky club 15 seconds in the spotlight, and then sweep it under the carpet moving on to the ritual crowning of one of the Big Four. That's your lot, folks. You've had your fill of magic for another season.

The glorious thing about this year is that the small clubs have p***ed in the big clubs' tea; this could finally be the year that things change - that we finally go back to unpredictability rather than the usual parade of star teams.

I felt like a Jedi rebel 13 years ago when a menial Everton side beat a stellar Man Utd team, and we were still a Premier League side; the last team to raise the FA Cup from outside the imperial walls of the top flight was West Ham in 1980.

This can be the year of the underdog, a year when the Lilliputians truss up the big boys - the rich giants have had a stranglehold on our game for too long, and the fact that all four big teams are in the Champions League quarter finals shows just how much these teams take from the English Leagues, and the lack of competition or variety, is also illustrated by this.

Barnsley winning the FA Cup, the Ashburton Grove kids winning the Premier League, Everton finishing fourth, add that to Tottenham's Carling Cup win and you have some real magic.