Well F*ck Me, What A Start!

Well Fuck Me, What A Start! Susan Boyle’s Sitting On My Face!

Well fuck me, that went well. What  a disastrous start to a season. Gone
be with the days where we could 
look at these first 8 or 9 fixtures and confidently say – “nice, 7 or
8 wins before we meet any of the top teams”. Gone be with the days of even
feeling confident of a win at home, granted sometimes walking away bitterly
disappointed after a bad result (Shit Happens) but at least we still had the
confidence of winning before the game. We’re even proving shitty tabloid  journalists right, after their
predictions of one or two injuries or a red card away from disaster. “I want my
Arsenal back”, they say, confuses me. Which one?. Don Howe’s?  George Graham?  Riochs? Another dose of Stuart
Houstons? I don’t get it.

Well I tell you what one I want, and I’m
not asking too much, I want The Arsenal back, that I could defend, a manager
who I can stand up for in arguments and slagging matches with work colleagues,
friends, family or just about any other fucker who wants to have a go really, (yes of course to challenge would be great, to win something, sure everyone
wants that, but at least give me enough so I can defend you ffs).
 And trust me I have been doing that,
defending them,
  even through the
recent 3rd and 4th place finishing years, the knocked out
of cups by Barnsley’s, the playing weaker team even in the final of league cup
years, etc. As @Bradyesque7 said to me (I’m sure it was him anyway), “I’ve spent
years defending Arsenal and Wenger to cunts who don’t support the club, and
I’ll defend them against cunts that do.” It has come to that stage, having to
defend your own club against your own supporters. The most positive and ardent
supporters of Arsene and club have turned, and at this stage I can almost say,
can you blame them?

Can I just say, that I’d usually scribble
down a few notes down during the week when thinking about the following weeks
blog, if a good point enters my head, If I read a good tweet that someone has
posted, or most importantly for me, if I think of something funny, or at least
some way of making a serious issue a little bit more humourous and bareable,
but I couldn’t do it this week, Jesus if I’d read back on scribbled notes since
Saturday it would read like the suicide note of the most depressed man ever to
live in the most depressing apartment, in the most depressing, wet, grey place
in the world ever, who’d just found a load of downers and a crate of gin before
writing – yes it’s been that bad. So to stick with the current situation, I’m
going about this without a plan – something we’re getting used to at this
stage. (This is just coming flowing out, I myself won’t know what it reads like
til the end, but fuck it, have to get shit off my chest).

I’m getting pissed off, cos I can no longer
answer my Man Utd mate at work when he says his usual remark that he’s been
throwing at me for years now –

“You lot need to get an actual football
manager, not a bank manager” –

I could always answer him, I could always
mention the masterplan, the building of the stadium, the building of a squad
from within, with a young British core and classy imports too, who would’ve
been nurtured from a young age to play The Arsenal way so they could seamlessly
mix with the 1st team when they were required to join it. The fact
that when the money finally arrived we’d have a suitable foundation to then add
the proper quality to make us a serious team, a team actually capable of
domination for a generation, something like Fergie achieved at Old Trafford. I
could always say that the other premier league managers would shit their pants
at the thought of Arsene having money in the bank, for if he could do so well
with peanuts, imagine what he could do with cash.

Then the club go and announce that the cash
had arrived, we had reached the promised land, and all we had to do now was to
purchase the couple of gold keys that were needed to open the gates and push on
through. And so we were all filled with the euphoria of reaching the promised
land, we were sold the fact that the last 8 or 9 years of drought had finally
paid off, and now after the drought and famine we were about to stick our
napkins on and tuck into a feast of the amber nector, food and drink fit for
the gods. But here we are, just lost our first opening day game in about 13
years, with an orderly  queue being
formed outside of the physio room, and large groups of forwards and midfielders
being sent to extra training with Steve Bould as they’ll probably be required
in defence. Fuck the gates of the holy land, fuck the keys required to open the
gates, we were told we at least had the keys to open the room where the
chequebook is kept.

It feels like we’ve been going on dates
with super models for the last 16 years. The first 8 years we were playing the
field, going out with the best of the best. Turning down some stunners, even
taking Naomi and Heidi out at the same time, and when I say out, I mean not
just for dinner, but for dessert in the Jacuzzi afterwards too (nudge nudge,
wink wink, ooh matron).  Then we
started saving money. We could still attract the supermodels, we were still
getting dates, but we just couldn’t seal the deal, got back to the hotel door,
and got a peck on the cheek. Always fell at the last hurdle. The supermodels
needed to know we had cash before slipping into their sexy little lingerie and
settling in for the night. Now we have cash again and the
supermodels know it, but we refuse to splash out, ask them out to dinner in Mc
Clunky’s rather than The Fat Duck. It feels like we’ve got the cash to wine and
dine supermodels but we’re being greeted with Susan Boyle hiking up her skirt,
whipping off her 2 inch thick brown tights and lowering herself on top of us,
and smothering us in the process.

Anyone that knows me/follows me, will now
how much this irks me to criticise the club, or the manager, it feels as bad as
having to crawl around on all fours acting as Stefan  Freund’s shadow for a week,  but I’m afraid they’re no longer helping me defend them.
They’re telling us nothing, and I don’t mean tell us the transfer targets, as
that would help nobody, but explain when things have gone wrong, or at least
let us know that they realise things are have gone wrong. And yes I do realise,
it’s only been one game, and yes there is plenty of time to make signings. But
some of the shit that has happened has been so obvious to everybody. Yes we
were unlucky with a fuckwit referee, with injuries, etc. But it’s all been
said, it’s all been foreseen by most, that with a paper thin squad all it took
was a red card (and let’s be honest with refereeing standards in England this
one should definitely be considered), or a pulled hamstring to leave us down to
the bare bones. And here we are.

On Monday it was confirmed that we’d bid
£10m for Cabaye from Newcastle, and it just reminded me of an article I’d read
when Man Utd were linked to him a few weeks back, after just having 2 bids
turned down for Fabregas, and it basically mirrored our own situation. It said
that by Moyes and Utd going so public with the Fabregas bids that if they ended
up with Cabaye instead of Cesc that the fans would be disappointed, whereas,
had they kept the Fabregas bids quiet or realised that they’d no chance of
getting him, and just bought Cabaye that the fans would have been delighted. I
think it’s the same situation with us, had we not been built up by club, or
insiders or whoever that we ourselves were in for Cesc, Rooney, Suarez etc. and
now ending with bidding for Cabaye we were always going to be disappointed. But
had they just admitted to themselves that they were never going to get the others
and just bought Cabaye then we would’ve been a lot happier with the idea of his
signing, so now the selling us a pup as the club seem to have done again , has
really come back to haunt them as unless the players signed really are top,  top quality, then the fanbase will still
grumble, regardless.

So as I said, I’d love the Arsenal back
that could mount a serious challenge, even The Arsenal back that might fade
away late on, The Arsenal back that used to break at such speed that we’d
counter-attack and score goals with 12 seconds of winning the ball back in our
own penalty area, The Arsenal back that used to have teams scared shitless of
coming to our ground. But most of all Arsenal/Arsene, I want The Arsenal back
that gets Susan Boyle to get off my face, 
hike her tights back up, and never return. I’d be content with that and
the ability to defend you again.

At this point every week I’d normally say
‘Keep the faith’, but I won’t this week, as I know it’s so hard to do at the
moment.

But as always I will finish with this,
regardless –  #UTA



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