Woke, exhausted the usual array of man noises, rubbed my eyes. Peering back at me was yet another beautiful morning pouring through my bedroom window. Nothing, but nothing, could make me feel better. Nothing, but nothing, could improve the overall elation of being alive – then I mused upon the latest Arsenal Press Release. Thank you, Arsene F.C. You’ve truly improved my day…
‘We are THE legendary white sleeves’
Come on, guys; do you REALLY believe that the sleeves you attached to your borrowed Nottingham Forest shirts are TRULY more famous than a host of others? Now let me think!… So YOUR sleeves are THE white sleeves; THE definitive ones. More so than Leeds United’s, or Real Madrid’s? Even more than a team whose nickname is known globally as The LilyWHITES? Conclusion; Deluded.
‘We are THE ones who always pick the cannon when playing Monopoly’
Let’s be fair, you quite rightly boasted of being the best team around during various eras, much to our annoyance, while we sat back with lump in throat; our green eyes filled with despondency. Then, when the success subsided, we endured your endless prattling about ‘being the best footballing team’, which, again, and for a while, was true. Now you are neither, you boast of your Monopoly prowess… Maybe, next time you open Waddington’s box of tricks, you’ll chose the hat… the mad hatter’s most distinguishable feature. Conclusion; How the mighty have fallen…
‘We are THE ones who know the real ‘Dennis the Menace’. He’s not a cartoon. He’s a genius.
You’re wright [aren’t you ALWAYS right?] Bergkamp is a total genius, and surely one of the best-ever imports to grace these shores. Even so, it heartens an old Spur, very much so, that one of Arsenal’s greatest sons was, in fact, a Spurs’ fan, and even named one of his sons, Glenn, in awe of the genius, Hoddle and the men in truly white shirts, not just the sleeves. So while you finish your gloats about Tim Sherwood’s gooner past, please remember that, it wasn’t only Mr. Bergkamp who held an emotional candle for your good old neighbour, but Mr. Chapman, the 1930’s version, who also had a Tottenham-related past!!
Are you genuinely so consumed with yourselves that you honestly believe all players are with the team they supported as boys???? Conclusion; Read more history books and leave the comics alone. ‘He’s one of our own!
‘We are THE ones who call our uncle Arsene, even though his name is John’
Then you must be drunk! John must be drunk! Realistically, from over the fence, I’ve seen the way you treat your ‘uncle’, and I’m thinking of reporting you to Social Services. After all he’s done for you, after all those years of personal dedication, after all those trophies, all you can muster is a half-hearted Civil War between fan and club, board and fan. Then, when the hired plane engine comes to a halt, and the blood is wiped away from warring Gooner faces, you have the audacity to tell us what a great club you are! Conclusion; Call John, John, and stop confusing him. And leave the ‘Dear John’ letters to uncle Arsene till October, at least. Uncle Arsene IN!
‘We are THE ‘invincibles’ even when we are playing against mates on a Sunday’
Even as a Spurs’ man it’s difficult, possibly picky, to crab the so-called ‘invincibles. There again, last Sunday, a big group of lads were playing football beyond our fence, when a dark-haired, red-shirted Frenchman, with devilish goatee, threw himself through the windows of our greenhouse… Conclusion; You’ll always remember the good, but the worst always seems to have to take a dive..
‘We are THE ones since 1999 who have never known the second division’
Of course, with Arsenal being of such sound morals and scruples, and selflessly hiking themselves a level or nine above the rest of us mortals, they’ve never tasted the pleasures of lower division football. How quaint! Now, were I to explain the reasons why, they’d close ranks, put it down to ‘history’, although boasting about history is what we have to endure if last year’s league positions are mentioned! Somewhere lives an irony.
Back in history – when history doesn’t count, apparently – Arsenal arrogantly left Woolwich without permission, moving in to Tottenham’s catchment area. To add insult, palms were greased in order for the Forest impersonators to stay up, while Spurs’, who had finished in the League, were relegated. Had Jeremy Kyle survived at the time, Arsenal would have done some serious time on the naughty step, probably bolting out of the studio with ‘victim’ stamped over their heads. Conclusion; History clearly only counts when it is recent. Nobody else’s history matters at all when cheat, lie, squat in Islington and deny your horrific past.
‘We are THE 228 times that Thierry Henry found the back of the net’
Great player; of that there is no doubt. But, does the 228 also refer to those who stayed loyal to ‘uncle Arsene’, or the number arrested for fighting each other at various recent matches? And does that figure also include any he may have played ‘basketball’ with?
Anyway, I think he may’ve been one of those lads who smashed my greenhouse last Sunday! Conclusion; Enjoy your past, whenever that was, and pay for the sodding glass you broke, including shattering the thousands of Irish hearts! Sadly, Terry, handling illegally is the closest you’ll ever get to being Maradona!
‘We are THE ones that are never wrong but always Wright’
I’m sure we’re all great believers in doing the right thing, and for rewarding those whose ideas affect our lives and history. I would now like to advocate that the Press Officer who wrote the aforesaid words is made Chief of the Tribe of the Nomadic Gooners! Those few succinct words thoroughly describe most of those I meet, give or take a realist or three. That P.O. seriously deserves recognition and his new promotion.
Yes, we know you’re always right, because you always tell us so – even when Mr. Wright moved on to West Ham and beyond. Yet, even a diehard Spur like yours truly can admit, that now he’s stopped playing, I actually quite like the fella, and his heartfelt passion that is sadly lacking in the present team, bar three or four games a season. Conclusion; It’s a sadness of modern-day football that most Arsenal fans have little time for congratulating others, but crawl out of the woodwork in their droves when successful. If a child showed similar traits, he’d be sent to sit on Jeremy’s naughty step…
‘We are THE ones riding our motorbikes with Petr Cech’s helmet’
When you’re truly struggling for something positive to say, why not drag up Petr Cech’s helmet?
Don’t you guys realise that’s illegal?
Conclusion; You will come to a sticky end without a proper [crash] helmet… Somebody call the Police!
‘We are THE 13 times winners’
Excellent, well done! Hope you don’t fall off the motorbike at the parade. For goodness sake, don’t fall on Petr Cech’s helmet!
Conclusion; The worst of worse losers; The worst of all the winners, too. Goodbye ‘Boring’ Arsenal; Hello ‘The Boastful ones’.
Now, even though the gushing exhilaration of that flood of daylight has gone, along with those wonderful, Wedgewood blue skies, nothing improves your day more than when the Gooner’s innate arrogance comes shining through. Must sort that Greenhouse, though… Keith THE Palmer
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