Week Fifteen – Arsenal are back
By the time you read this the last international break for a while will be well and truly forgotten, and we will be free to focus on The Arsenal for a few months.
We are going into a crucial period now, and the fact that we are top of both the Premier League and the dreaded deadly Champions League deadly Group of Deadly Death means our destiny is in our own hands. Win all of our remaining games, and the longest period any team in the history of any sport has ever gone without a trophy ever will be banished for good. Simple isn’t it?
Seriously though, as I’ve said before, if you would have asked any of us if we would take being in this position now after the Aston Villa game we would have Luis Suarez’d your arm off.
On that note, I don’t know about you, but I’m chomping at the bit to get back to watching The Arsenal, and a Saturday three o’clock kick off is the best way to get back to it. Not just the 90 minutes either, but the whole match day experience.
This got me thinking about something…..
Let’s be honest, these days we spend a lot of time between games on Twitter. We also do it on the morning of a game, on our way to a game, even during a game.
This has its good and bad side.
I probably don’t need to tell you about the bad side do I?
There are plenty of arseholes about on Twitter, just as there are everywhere in life, and as in life it is entirely up to you how you choose to deal with them.
The good side for me is that I have met some fantastic people through Twitter, and will continue to do so. This has meant that recently my pre and post-match experience and my Twitter timeline have become intertwined.
There is something surreal about someone introducing themselves or being introduced to you by their Twitter handle (you’ve done it, you know you have). It’s almost like walking through the doors of the Tollington is like physically walking into my timeline. This then got me thinking about something else that we’ve all done – how many times have you referred to Twitter as “this place” or “here”? As in “this place does my fucking head in sometimes” and “there are some right cunts on here”. Yes you have, don’t lie. These two things then got me thinking about something else…Imagine if you somehow got sucked into Twitter, and it became a real place, some surreal, twisted virtual reality.
(If you are new to this column and are slightly concerned about how my mind works to have got to this point, I feel I should warn you it gets worse…)
Of course, you could argue that this is the case anyway, and it’s too late for a lot of people, but I’m thinking more along the lines of Tron here (don’t say I didn’t warn you). What a scary world that would be.
If real life mirrored Twitter, the match day experience would go something like this…
Arsenal supporters are separated into WOB’s and AKB’s. The pubs around the ground reflect this, and anyone unlucky enough to stray over to the wrong side is, depending on where they’ve strayed from, either brainwashed into accepting everything the club do as fine and great, pouring scorn upon anyone who dare criticise a player who puts a foot wrong, or immersed in a sea of black scarves and negativity, like that bit in Ghost when the baddie is dragged off to hell, emerging wrapped in an anti-Wenger banner, consumed with an overwhelming urge to complain about everything the club does.
The WOB’s and the AKB’s make their way to the ground separately, until they come together outside the Armoury, like something from West Side Story, circling each other, then from time to time someone steps out into the middle and makes a snidey comment, intent on winding the other side up.
All this while the GoonerFamilyFollowTrain circles the ground, full of people who don’t go to games as they bring shame upon all real fans. During the match, there is only one game taking place, but everybody watches from their own little bubble, where they can see it exactly how they want to.
If we lose, The Cult of the Überfan meet outside the ground, chanting the words “Gooner Family” over and over, declaring their undying support forever and ever. If we win they do the same. Also, if we win, the WOB’s magically disappear.
I could go on, but the point I’m trying to make is that when you look at things this way, it’s quite easy to separate the perception some can get from immersing themselves in the crazy world of Twitter, and what the reality actually is, which is nothing like this at all. I’m just trying to highlight the extremes to which things are taken through the joys of the Chinese whisper infected social media and the Internet in general. Those of us lucky enough to attend matches regularly should know this, and it worries me what sort of perception those who aren’t have of what it’s actually like. Arsenal is there for us all to enjoy, so support the club in whatever way you like.
This might all sound a bit “out there”, but this week I watched a man who can’t tell the time eat a turkey’s bollock…
Yep, this got my international break addled brain thinking yet again (I did warn you didn’t I?)
I’ve made no secret of the hatred I have for a lot of people in football, I’ve compiled hate lists and created dartboards for this column in the past.
This week I’ve gone a step further (towards what I’ll leave you to decide)
and I’ve devised a new reality TV show.
I’ve submitted the idea to Channel Five, as I thought that a channel that once showed Keith Chegwin’s penis will take anything as entertainment…
I’m A Twat Keep Me in Here Until I Die
Andre Villas Boas
Mourinho and AVB would be this year’s Peter Andre and Katie Price, as the obvious sexual tension between the pair finally boils over after the group are given a few bottles of wine and AVB flirts with Jose during a drunken rendition of Never Gonna Give You Up round the camp fire.
It needs a bit of work, but I have ideas for the bush tucker trials, which are set uniquely for each contestant as follows:
Hansen is bound and gagged, forced to watch this over and over again.
Terry is suspended above a pool of hungry crocodiles on a giant shin pad and forced to watch Didier Drogba give his wife one, only for Wayne Bridge to sidle up next to her when he’s done, in full kit wanker mode complete with shin pads, and take the credit for it.
Owen is simply forced to listen to his own voice for 90 minutes.
Lineker has Walkers crisps shoved in his earholes, followed by an army of bulimic cockroaches.
Pulis’ trial obviously can’t be a swimming task, due to the advantage having webbed toes brings with it. Instead he is forced to wear a baseball cap filled with scorpions. Not the wanky little scorpions that made that soppy cunt off The Fresh Prince of Bel Air cry either. No, proper fuck off killer scorpions. May as well kill him off anyway, saves that awkward moment when he walks across that bridge thing to be met by his wife, who is also his sister.
Like I say, it still needs a bit of work. I’ll keep you posted….
You see what an international break can do? All that has been going on in my head this week due to a lack of Arsenal to write about for you. I don’t just prat about all week waiting for football you know…
One thing I did find entertaining this week, and I know I’m not the only one, was the fact that it took a fine goal against England for the English media to suddenly decide the BFG isn’t just a lumbering oaf. I bet that shocked you too, eh? Never mind the fact that right now Per Mertesacker is possibly the best central defender in Europe, at least eh?
The squad were pictured suited and booted in an old school photo looking type thing later in the week, which was met with universal approval among Arsenal fans (yeah, read that again) and rightly so.
The word “class” is bandied about a bit too freely these days, often used by us when being derisory about other clubs, but make no mistake this is proper Arsenal class. Love it.
Oh For Fucks Sake, Theo!
Fucking hell Theo!
Yeeeesssss! Theeeeeo! Theeeeeo!
Has your timeline ever looked like that?
Southampton should see the return of Theo Walcott against his old club, and a welcome return it is too. I think we notice how important Theo can be to the side when he’s out. I do chuckle to myself when I see so many people mentioning this when he’s out, and when he’s playing how often you hear or read the words “For fucks sake, Theo!” He can be a frustrating player, of that there is no doubt, but his very presence in the team so often affects the way the opposition are stretched, as well as how we play.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the perceived lack of effect of Mesut Özil recently has coincided with Theo being out. Remember the instant impact Özil had with Theo in front of him? It’s a mouthwatering prospect, and I think there’s every chance Özil could be the spark Theo needs to move his game up to the level we all know he can.
Arsenal 2 Southampton 0 –
Not the best game by any means, but make no mistake this was a very important win. Important to get the loss to United out of our system, and with some of the other results going the way they did it was important we made the most of it.
Talking to a few people before the game, there was a feeling that we just wanted a win, no matter what the score or the performance was like, which is understandable. I think this shows that we are getting the feeling that we really can win this league, although none of us want to admit it, which is again understandable. I say this because it’s almost like the run-in last season when fourth place was in our hands – just win our games, that’s all we need to do.
Performance-wise, we did pretty well against a well organised, in-form Southampton side.
Olivier Giroud was the best player on the pitch in my opinion, and his harassing of the hilariously shit Artur Boruc for the first goal summed his work rate up. He scored that with the outside of his foot too, the flash git.
Watching Tottenham getting well and truly stuffed was the icing on the cake.
Remember when people were cooing over their summer signings? That was funny.
Until next week, have a good ‘un.