The story of Parcival is practically word-for-word the story of our hunky French striker! It’s like History repeating itself! History repeating itself! And here’s the good part…
“They’re all on the same plane. They’re all going around in the same direction…It’s perfect you know. It’s gorgeous. It’s almost uncanny.”
Today we’re going to make a meal out of that simplest, most traditional of breakfasts…
Exclusive! Excerpts from Arséne Wenger’s personal diaries*… Le Prof, as you’ve never seen him before: Raw and exposed.
What do you do when your throat’s on fire, your sinuses are exploding and your fever’s rising? You wake up in the middle of the night and write a haiku for each member of the Arsenal squad, that’s what. See if you can figure them all out…
I’ll gladly take an away point from the reigning Champions. We remain unbeaten this season, and that’s fuel in the tank for next week’s game against the European Champions. But I’m NOT going to comfort myself on how close we were to beating City. Shoulda, coulda, didn’t.
I’m not the kind of person who lets facts and stats get in the way of what I believe. (You’ve probably realized that by now.) So I have to rely on other things to support my fantastical Arsenal theories, such as the Tarot, or silly quotes. That way, I’m always right, and no-one can argue with me or prove I’m an idiot.
Is it a bird? is it a plane? is it Superman? No, wait… It’s just dust on the lens…
It’s like Arsenal, as a snake-entity, has shed its old skin: Pat Rice gone, money-grabbers gone, an attitude of zero-tolerance towards disloyalists, and a group of players remaining that look coolly desperate to convince. It’s a privilege to witness, this rebirth.
Every season is make-or-break for Arsenal.
At least that's what you'd think if you paid any attention to any of the millions of things that delivered opinion to the 21st Century Gooner: Boobtube, Arsetube, Twit-tube, Intertube… Hell – I reckon there are even carrier pigeons out there with “MAKE-OR-BREAK SEASON FOR ARSENAL!” scrolls attached to their scaly little sky-rat diabys.
At the beginning of each new season, there is a collective urge – after patting ourselves on the back for last season's Bronze medal – to pile pressure on the Manager, and whatever players remain at the club. The dizzying height of our recent (who'm I kidding!) glory days was as addictive as that blue meth in “Breaking Bad” – we liked being at the top of the food chain. It suited our self-image, and gave us the right to puff up and gloat and insult all those other scumbag clubs out there.
But The Seven Year Itch is upon us. And after losing our Captain and key players for two years on the trot, there is a sense that one more year of settling for Champions League qualification just won't crack it. Arsene Wenger himself, while squashing rumours of a … Read More »