This is a new feeling. I want to kick everything I see, I’m wishing horrible things on people and last night when the plane hit a spot of turbulence, my first reaction was a weary look out the window and a mental sigh of “Plane crash. Annoying”.

From wherever you were sitting yesterday, last night’s performance was painful. Painful that there was no excuse, painful that there was no evident reason, painful that it happened at all. Possibly what is also hurting today, I expect, is that we seem to be lacking a particular scapegoat. Somehow that always helps a little. Today, however, there are no scapes to be goated. The players we’ve come to know and love and rely upon didn’t seem to turn up yesterday. And who knows why.

Thomas Vermaelen has said as much. It was really weird seeing him play so badly. And Bacary. And Arteta. A small positive from the match was that Gibbs did well after a shaky start and on his first full match back from lengthy injury.  Also, Rosicky was alone in his efforts. Where was everyone else? AC Milan were good. But they weren’t great.

I don’t really know what else to say. What went wrong? Everything. What went right? Sod all. Even our penalty claim moments after theirs went ignored. Surely when a team is 4-0 down and has JUST had a penalty given and scored against them, then is the time to give one when it is that blatant? And their second goal was offside. And Koscielny got injured. At least no one got sent off. Or exploded into a million pieces in the middle of the pitch.

Statistically, we had slightly more possession and equal shots on target to them. Oh Arsenal. You never fail to create new levels of WTF, do you?

I was trying to think of positives on the way back to the coach last night. I came up with:

-       Well, at least I don’t have to stand there holding a Thomas Cook Sport sign up in the air while waiting for everyone to get back to the coach.

-       Thankfully only one of my hamstrings is hurting after that epic bitch of a journey down that FUCKING toilet roll ramp at the stadium.

-       At least England is an hour behind Italy so the boys will have an extra hour to prepare for Sunderland than if we were Italian.

-       At least we won on Saturday.

-       At least we’ll remain fourth for at least another ten days.

-       At least at least at least.

Then we got back to the coach and were sat near the most disgusting human beings I’ve encountered in a long time. Even in this era of Arsenal fan hell, they were a new low. God alone knows how the players felt on the way back home. Hopefully, like shit. It’s only fair that they should too.

Grand scheme of things, it ain’t a nightmare. Again, we’re fourth (yes, not an achievement in previous seasons, but an achievement this year). We’re still after an FA Cup (more than can be said for the chosen teams of the fans gloating at Arsenal’s failures once again). And wow, we actually ARE still in the Champions League (ditto previous bracket sentence).  To get twatted in the first leg will avoid heartbreak like in previous years when we’ve bollocksed up the second. In fact, maybe we’ll be better playing with no expectation.

I reckon we’ll win at ours. Yesterday’s result reflected on us more than them. Our pitch is also not a patchwork of shit, and we’re better at home, obviously. Will we win 5-0 though? Well. Another sad point of yesterday was the farewell to Thierry. Kind of wish his last match had been Sunderland now. Would have saved a few tears from me! But Titi, you’re still an absolute superstar who is welcome back any time, ever.

Wenger was very harsh at full time, and rightly so. I know plenty want him gone, but he was let down by the players he cares so very much about last night. He’s not used to being let down so horribly by players he lo-*flashback to the summer*. Oh.

There are two ways we can go about it now: The much-marched pathway of collapse as in previous seasons, or an absolute rocket up the backside as we fight our way back into this one. I will forgive last night completely if we choose the latter. ‘Cause see, in spite of what happened, we still love them SO much. Even when we’re shit. I want nothing more than for each and every member of our squad to be happy with their football, all the time. Here’s hoping they’re happy with it come Saturday evening.

As for the Champions League, we’re still at half time really I guess. Keeping a clean sheet while managing to score even just the one in the first half would go a long way to helping us believe we’re still in it. I’m not stupid enough to think we’re going through, but I think we’ve a greater chance than Wenger said we had last night. Because if you do not believe you can do it, then you have no chance at all.

In other news, thanks to Milan for having us. A great day was had in you. The actual match was spent sat with the fammo and Akhil (@10akhil), Sarah (@wolvenal: Comment from after the match: “Well, one positive… I’m not as cold as I thought I’d be”) and Lia (@cryptogirl). They made the unbearable slightly more bearable.

Back after Sunderland a little more smiley and less disturbingly relaxed about plane crashes. If you please, boys!

There is a painting of Thierry Henry on the outside of the Emirates Stadium. It appeared a couple of summers ago as part of the ‘Arsenalisation’ of our new home. It was the one we were concerned we’d have to form a human chain around when Ireland played there shortly after the handball incident that saw them potentially miss out on a World Cup place. There he ‘stands’ alongside Brady and Adams and Bastin, and the club crest. And even on that painting, where his face is unseen, he is unmistakably Thierry.  Even faceless, he has that arrogant swagger everyone has come to know and love.

I like to think it was that swagger that saw him surge forward to collect his third (and 229^th) goal of his time back at the club, during our match against Sunderland yesterday. It was a 3pm kick off here in the UK, thus only streams and Arseblog liveblogs and tweets and Soccer Saturdays were there to communicate the goings on at the Stadium of Unharvested Crop… er… Light. So, when word came that the first half had been, well, basically shit, I don’t think anyone was very surprised at all. It was that same old problem of plenty possession but no murderously ruthless instinct going forward.

Time ticked by with little or no action. Sunderland, having done their best to park a massive fat-arsed bus in front of goal while giving us no room to work with whatsoever, were actually the ones to bring the game to life in the second half. Wojciech Szczesny and his Thirties hairdo were called upon twice in quick succession as suddenly, we were on the back foot. Familiar story? I think so.

Robbie Fowler was first to tell me the news of their goal. It seemed Per Mertesacker had come over all John Terry (except, you know, with morals and stuff) and had gone down while under no pressure to allow James McLean to break the deadlock and put the home side ahead. There can hardly be any calls of “Why didn’t they stop?!” when (you’d like to think!) we’d have done exactly the same thing. See, Per hadn’t just slipped. He’d completely done himself on that shitpatch of a pitch everyone had been complaining about all afternoon. There really was no excuse for it. That said, it isn’t like Sunderland’s boys had little mini patches of perfectly grown grass attached to their studs. Everyone was playing on the same surface, so complaints that the pitch got in the way are pretty blunt. Still, it’s unlikely anything will be done about it in advance of our next match there, and it was also probably the largest contributing factor to Per’s knacked ankle. He’s supposed to be having a scan on it today, so fingers crossed for him on that front.

With poor old Per stretchered off with his ankles sticking out the end of the stretcher, on came the downtrodden Aaron Ramsey as Alex Song moved into defence. The really, really rubbish Ramsey who’s had ridiculous abuse sent his way in recent weeks, took only five minutes to pull us one back. It was a strike from far out – by our standards – and took a hit off both posts before finally nestling itself in the back of the net, but it was a goal we and he really, really needed. So, can we lay off him for a bit? He’s lovely and I love him. Shut up.

Then came the bargaining portion of the afternoon. “Well, this is technically a point gained… away… we have one eye on the Milan match… always better to come from beh- OH WHO ARE WE KIDDING THIS IS HELL!” And it would have been. With Liverpool having lost to Manchester United earlier in the day and Chelsea minutes from losing to Everton, our failure to capitalize would have once again been awful. That said, I had an odd Aston Villa-style feeling of “We are so gonna win this”. Survival instinct?

I got Twitter jailed for refreshing too many times, time was ticking by and the only upside was that Fowler is such a quiet spectator that there was never any danger that any of the constant yells being heard off-screen were coming from him. And then finally, it happened. Charlie Nicholas screamed. We all knew. Well we didn’t, but we hoped at least. Here is that moment from @MattWigley, who recorded it. No, it’s not the actual goal (they can all be found at Arsenalist’s site), but it’s always nice to remember the moment you first heard some news. Unless it’s bad news, obviously.

Superb cross from Arshavin (massive props to a similarly abused player), and what a way to end Thierry’s last Premiership game for us. As always, check out Sha’s site for photos and gifs etc. Clearly, the three points were more important than the fact Thierry got the last goal, but it doesn’t make it any less special. He and his swagger also had time to ‘Shush’ Martin O’Neill before full time. Perhaps this could be considered disrespectful but given O’Neill and Wenger’s history I reckon he was just trying to get one back for his main man AW.  Thank you, once again, to the man, the myth, the legend, the second best Frenchman to have ever lived, ever. Given his last departure felt so abrupt, it’s amazing that he’s been able to come back (post-statue no less!) and truly cement himself in the hearts of us all, including those who were not even into football when he left us almost five years ago. That sentence was, yes, a bit vommy but whatchagonnado?

Clearly, we were not allowed to end a match unscathed and Per Mertesacker’s absence from the Milan game on Wednesday is a big blow. It hopefully does mean that Vermaelen will get to play back in his favoured position and we will get to see the coming together of KOSMAELEN THE DESTROYER. Gibbs was back on the bench yesterday, so it’s unlikely he’ll start in Italy, but his return couldn’t have been much better timed.

I’m going to Milan on Wednesday and it seems like so are most Arsenal fans, which should be good. It’s only the first leg, but given the brilliance of the last time we played there, a good performance from us would be juuuust lovely. Ooh, and we’re now fourth place in the table! Also, given Newcastle’s collapse at Spurs yesterday, we will remain fourth for another two weeks. Not bad. So, we’ve began our Sunderland-Milan-Sunderland sandwich in a tasty fashion.

On to the filling!

In case you’d not heard, it snowed in London this weekend. But I’m sure that unless you died in 1996, you had already heard that. Every winter we get surprised that it gets cold. The fact we have yet to recognise that cold weather occurs in winter, and to greet it with anything less than shock and awe, just shows you how doomed our species is. Check out these photos by Club photographer Stuart MacFarlane nevertheless, because if anything can make a beautiful building more beautiful, it’s the blue white powder of sky dandruff.

So. Bit funny not having anything to complain about this weekend, is it not? Even the eventual 3-3 result of the Chelsea-Mancs match (also known as the “Have your eyeballs spooned out or your tongue stretched until it snaps off hmmmm which is less awful, which which which?” match) didn’t end with a disastrous result for us. Chelse are still three points ahead of us, which means we’re still three points off fourth, but it doesn’t really matter what other teams did/do this weekend: because this weekend, we were magnificent.

After the pointless (literally) month of January and the puddle of grey slush that was the Bolton match, it was imperative that our first home Premiership match of the month ended with us unwrapping the three point present at full time. An emphatic win would have been greeted with glee, but I don’t know many who would have suggested the scoreline to have eventually been 7-1. Now, before people jump in with their “BUT IT WAS 10-MAN BLACKBURN” comments (and ohhhh, how people have been jumping in with their “BUT IT WAS 10-MAN BLACKBURN” comments), just a few factors to remember here:

Yes, they are really struggling this season.

Yes, Yakubu did not play.

Yes, we should really expect to beat Blackburn.

Yes, they were down to ten men.

BUT

Their last three away matches have won them five points. Our last three away matches have won us one point. They’ve beaten Swansea, who(m?) we failed to beat. They’ve beaten Manchester United, who(m?) we failed to beat. They drew with Liverpool, who(m?!?!?!) we lost to.

Oh, and they beat us. In an utter bloody nutcase of a match granted, but they came to the Emirates on Saturday having already taken three points from us. It’s not like we were playing a dead and beaten donkey. More importantly, we’ve hardly set the world alight in recent weeks. Plus let’s be honest, would ANY result surprise you these days?

Exactly.

Sooooo, I think it’s perfectly acceptable that yesterday I for one, celebrated that match like it had been worth nine points. Not only were we after (and desperately after) some points this weekend, we were also after a big boost. There are few things boostier than 7-1 wins. And there was very little one could complain about after the performance. Of course next week we face Sunderland away and will have to go into it with a completely fresh head, but that’s what Thursday and Friday are for worrying about.

I mean, when you drink a lovely bottle** of wine, you should think about how lovely the bottle of wine is as you are drinking it. NOT how rough you may or may not feel the next day. Because you may not feel rough at all the next day, and then your enjoyment of the lovely bottle of wine will have been tainted by fret and for what? Nothing. Nothing.

And if that makes me a deluded wine drinker, then by jove I am happy being a deluded wine drinker!

Really though, it was nice to see we can still score goals. From RvP’s 2^nd minute opener to his almost carbon copy second (props to Theo for both of those), to Foxy Oxy’s beautiful decision-making for his first and sweet striking for his second, to Mikel’s fortunate but nonetheless really thwacky boot, to Robin’s hattrick completion moment to King Henry’s ever so apt and perfect concluder to the day of goals, it was full of bright moments yesterday.

There was a mini-wobble when Morten Gamst Pedersen bashed their first shot on target home, and also some moments of panic when RvP and Vermaelen went down injured at different points but all in all, there was never really a feeling we were going to lose the game. Mind you, with this season having been as stupid as it has, when Givet was sent off for his tackle on Robin, there was a part of me that thought “Oh Christ, watch them get themselves back into this now that their backs are against the wall”. Pessimist.

We were back to looking like a bit of a team again, and it was good to see. Even if it was “Just 10-men Blackburn” (and by the way, it was 3-1 at the point of his dismissal #justsaying). When all’s said and done, you can only beat what’s in front of you, something we have failed to do on numerous occasions this season. But I fail to see how we could have done much more than win 7-1 there. Of course there are still people who think this doesn’t mean much, but that’s OK. They get to be the cautious ones while others of us get to be the cheerful ones… it’s how this ship sails along so successfully. Teamwork, guys!

It’d be nice to think that this is the start of another run of success, but that may be a little too positive even for me this season, so we can but hope. But all in all, a great day at the office. And the home support was better. It has to be said that the Blackburn fans, who had a hell of a lot further to travel than Arsenal station, DIDN’T start leaving at 6-1 while many of our home fans did, but it just meant that they got to see Thierry’s last goal at the Emirates like the rest of us who stayed did, unlike the leavers, so SUCKS TA BE YOU, LEAVERS.

Anyway, in a season of gloom, it’s important the good parts be celebrated. Work still needs to be done (more than ever), and efforts will be judged week by week, but nevertheless, for yesterday: well played the Arsenal!

*title nicked from Alan

**(er… I mean glass. Just a glass… obviously just a glass. Who drinks more than just a glass? Not I.)

Looking back over the last few months since my last blog post, the thing that strikes me most is how quickly things can change in football. It’s not so long ago that I was brimming with confidence about this ‘newly mature’ Arsenal team, daring to dream of far more than the now-elusive 4^th place.

At the start of February last year we were coming off a series of 3-0 wins, unbeaten in 2011, about to beat Barcelona and dreaming of greatness and trophies. We all know how that turned out. This time last week Gooners the world over were deep in post-United depression, agonising over a controversial substitution. It was our 3^rd consecutive loss. (Wouldn’t it be nice if we could reverse the pattern of last season?)

Just a few days ago we had a moment of shared euphoria and renewed optimism – the unlikeliest of comebacks executed in ferocious fashion over a seven minute period, including the award (at last!) of two penalties. It seemed our luck had finally turned.

And yet… and yet. Today, twitter is once more awash with the suicide-inducing depressed haze of petulance, abuse and frankly ridiculousness. And over what? A goalless draw in a challenging away trip. I feel for our much-maligned defence – they might have had some shaky moments today but a clean sheet is the most any of us could have possibly asked for. Yet it still wasn’t enough to seal the win. Well, I say Twitter is flooded with these things. My timeline isn’t. I seem to have managed to follow only like-minded sorts of people – those who yes, are disappointed, in the extreme, at many aspects of the club. But who know that with 15 games still remaining in the league, there is an enormous amount of support that still needs to be put behind this (admittedly deficient) team.

I’ve read many people’s opinions on the state of this Arsenal squad in recent weeks. I read with interest, and with respect, not merely because they are the voices of my fellow human beings, but because I was raised to respect my elders. And when it comes to football, I tend to assume most everyone is my ‘elder’. My experience with our beautiful game is shorter than most, having only been introduced and converted to the sport during the 2010 World Cup – yes, less than two years ago. This is only my second season following the Arsenal. As such, I’ve never experienced our glory days. Never witnessed us raising a cup. Merely listened with awe to the tales of our legends and Invincibles. And do you know what? For every sideways pass Denilson made, for every calamitous centreback miscommunication, for every goalkeeping flap, for every chance skewed wide or shot straight at the keeper – through it all, through every game, win, draw or loss – my overriding emotion has been one of pride.

Pride in being part of something great. Something representative of history, tradition and class. Pride in our style of football, in our sensible business model, in the loyalty and consistency of having the one manager for 15 years. Pride in the community of amazing people who likewise bound themselves to the Arsenal.

That pride maintained itself throughout everything that has gone on for the last two seasons, through the humiliation of the Carling Cup final to the mauling at Old Trafford. But I can tell you that last weekend, during the United game, I began to question its sense.

And it wasn’t because of anything that went on on the pitch.

Yes, we lost – but with a severely depleted squad, we fought hard and were good value for a draw. We could have even nicked the win. In the end, a 2-1 scoreline against Manchester United is nothing to be ashamed of. No – the source of my shame, the thing that made me question my unwavering pride in my community, was the incredible reaction of large portions of the home support (obviously not the entire home support – I wouldn’t dare to include the mistress of this Blog amidst this generalisation, and of course there are many others like her). However. The lack of singing when the chips are down is bad enough. I understand you feel dispirited and not particularly inspired to sing. But the booing? Frankly it’s disgusting. For me, hands down, it was the booing that lost us that game. Say what you like about the substitution – and I disagreed with it as much as every single other fan around the world, including Robin van Persie – but a substitution does not kill morale. A substitution does not destroy belief, cause heads to drop. It might have the potential to – but a good crowd could always raise it right back up.

What happened last week was that after a period of the game where we had just scored an equalising goal, where we had all the possession and all the momentum, and looked likeliest to score again – at that moment, our most creative player was subbed off. But instead of getting on with it and putting all our support behind the player coming on – a player so woefully out of form that he needed all the support he could possibly get to attempt to display some of his considerable talent – the crowd in one fell swoop destroyed not only his belief in himself, but also his motivation, and the spirit of the players around him.

For me, it’s that simple. People can say what they like about these players being professional footballers, about how earning obscene wages should make them thick-skinned – but at the end of the day, these guys are just human, same as you and me. And humans are ruled by their emotions before and above their mind, or their body, no matter how professional the athlete. So for me, some of our ‘supporters’ ‘supported’ us to a loss. And to me, that’s just not good enough.

You hear a lot about fans who are ‘self-entitled’, who think that their matchday ticket is a transaction that deserves a trophy at the other end. There is nothing wrong with this per se – ambition is a healthy virtue. But when that very ambition is the cause of your own self-destruction when you can’t handle anything other than perfection, well I’m afraid then it’s a very destructive quality indeed. And I think it is this, above all else, that is dividing our fans. Those who are expressing their discontent with the state of the team are perfectly entitled to do so – but likewise the rest of us are entitled to take issue with how and when you choose to express yourself.

Booing, at any point during a game, is simply unacceptable. Likewise, verbally abusing our players on Twitter, whether you feel they gave a lacklustre performance or not, is not OK, nor is it productive. Do you think that the team are blind to their failings? Do you think they like the feeling of losing? Do you truly think our manager, so widely respected and who has led us to such success, cannot see the blaring deficiencies so obvious to the rest of us? If we are frustrated by his seemingly inexplicable lack of movement in the transfer market in January, we have every right to be perplexed – but to me, it reeks of politics behind the scenes that have left his hands tied. Or perhaps he’s just a very stubborn old man. But regardless, he is OUR stubborn old professor. Those are OUR boys out there in the red and white. They are bleeding for us, and they need our support. Our real support. Now, and every day, until the end of the season. Then, let the judgement befall them.

How I would love for us to have an FA Cup and 4^th place secured by then as well. (Note from Sian – Errrrr and the Champions League!) Come on Arsenal – and by that I mean all of you – keep making me proud!

- – -

Follow Gabi on Twitter: @GabiBoyd

With the exception of ‘That’s football’ and ‘Not that kind of player’, there are few footballing clichés more wall-punchingly irritating than ‘A game of two halves’. Unfortunately, it’s time to lock up your walls because yesterday… yesterday was a… oh, ahhhh… a game of t-… a game of two-… nope, nope, can’t even say it. It’s just too annoying.

Perhaps it was instead a game of two Arsenals. I sat with a cracking headache at half time yesterday afternoon (half thanks to Arsenal, half thanks to the invention of gin and tequila), really and truly having a right good panic-up. From my point of view, we’d played quite well in the first half, and were very unlucky to have been two goals down. We’d had more possession, more shots on target and were playing better, as far as I was concerned, than we had done for most of the month. So what in the ever-loving name of sod was going on? In addition to this, their second goal from Darren Bent had gone in at a ridiculously acute angle after a fairly good save from Fabianski. WOULD WE EVER CATCH A BREAK?

At 0-1 down, it was a case of “Keep calm, it’s still doable”. The fact Villa were lucky to be ahead boded well for us. Besides it’s usually better to go behind than ahead in the first half, no? But then when the second went in… well, we all know what we were all thinking. There were boos at half time. Lots of boos.

Somehow managing to access Twitter as we froze in our seats at half time, I was actually taken aback by the fury taking place on my timeline. And that’s saying something. For a football fan, Twitter is never a cuddly place. But this was unprecedented. “This is a huge 45 minutes for Arsene Wenger… I am ashamed to be here… we are a shambles… In Arsene I no longer trust… HAHAHAHAHAHA [OK so I follow the occasional non-Gooner]” It was not a pretty sight. In fact it was like my timeline was booing. For the first time, people were defending people’s right to boo. Which is some bollocks we’ll get to later, but for now let’s continue with half time.

It was a truly blue fifteen minutes. The only thing for it was to applaud the boys back out and hope for the best. Then something magical happened. You know how you normally get a tingling in your Spidey senses that we’re about to balls it up to the max? You can feel the bulge of the wrong net, the roar of the wrong set of people, minutes before it happens? Well, this was opposites day.

Suddenly there was a bit of urgency, a bit of fight, a bit of fire in the belly. I can honestly say that from the moment we kicked off, I thought “We’re going through to the next round”. In as much as it was a collapse courtesy of Aston Villa, it was a comeback courtesy of us. And yes, we had one lucky Theo goal sandwiched between two penalties. Given we’ve had precisely eight hundred and forty seven perfectly legitimate penalty shouts overruled over the past four weeks, it must now be widely accepted that we will never again be awarded another penalty.

Ever.

But that’s fine. A few minutes in when a Per header was blocked on the line by Stephen Ireland, the stadium shook with “YOU LUCKY BASTARDS!!!” Given that Given had already saved an absolute rocket of an effort from Thomas Vermaelen in the first half, and that Theo had squandered our next most realistic chance, and that Given had also managed to avoid a goal by Oxlade-Chamberlain, there was an inkling of “Oh God maybe not…” I mean when was the last time a visiting goalkeeper didn’t make a wonder save at the Emirates?

Anyhow, in the 54^th minute the penalty gods were to shrug off their Arsenal-proof noise-cancelling earphones and look up from their newspapers and doughnuts for the first time in SIXTY FOUR YEARS just in time to catch Richard Dunne bringing down Aaron Ramsey in the box.

Robin, who has not had to take a penalty since 2003* (*not true) fired this one home to make the little lifeline we’d been clinging onto in our heads a very real and tangible rope indeed. The best thing was that it actually was a penalty as well. There were arguments as to whether Dunne should have been given his marching orders given it was a second bookable offence by him, but let’s not get carried away here.

Speaking of luck, our second goal courtesy of Theo’s… shoulder, was it? Was one of the dopiest goals you’ll ever see but who here is complaining? Not I. Having leveled the scores, there is always a worry a team will take their foot off the intensity pedal and instead wedge on the stupid handbrake, but yesterday we seemed to have learned something of a lesson. And we were obviously still celebrating opposites day, as KOSCIELNY was brought down by BENT to hand us another penalty. Which RvP slotted home once more.

Never in doubt.

If you wish to cry and whinge and bawl about the half time result, then you must sing and jump and celebrate at the full time whistle. After all, how many times have we done the very opposite of yesterday? It will probably be healthier for our hearts if we don’t now assume that yesterday might have been a turning point, but it was still nice to end the month of January with a second win.

My personal highlight of yesterday was the return of the Bac. They will continue to try to make humans as good as Bacary, but do you know what? They will keep on failing. The Bac can not be replicated.

So on we march to the fifth round of the FA Cup, where we will face either Middlesbrough or Sunderland away. Both of which are far, so my only prediction ahead of this clash is that someone will post a photo of someone else sound akip on the journey up there. Still, yesterday’s result coupled with the mildly positive injury news that seems to be trickling through lately, and it is not all fog and marshlands and toast without Marmite. Except for the RvP controversy. Not gonna lie to you, it’s elbowy. Not brain rattlingly so, but he has a look before he sticks it out. He’ll be unlucky to receive any kind of punishment from the FA given the things they’ve let go in recent months, but then we’re Arsenal. Also, RvP comes from the Balotelli school of Englishness, so we’ll have to see about that one. That’s all there is to say on the matter, because anything else might make me sound like a hypocrite of Alex McLeish proportions.

Oh yeah and back to the booers. Thankfully, it was eradicated by the second half when our support realised that support means support and not BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, but I still think it would have served us right if the Villa fans had replied to our “You’re not singing any more” song, with “And were you ever, you big fat booing pillocks?” But that doesn’t fit very well into many tunes, so I can see why they didn’t.

But still. Booing is ugly, and it makes you look ugly too. The support in the second half was brilliant. Let’s continue that into Bolton away on Wednesday and hopefully the boys will keep up their end of the bargain too.

Arsenal 1-2 Manchester United

Well, when it rains it bloody well pours.

Little seems to have been made of the fact the last time we played Manchester United, we got tonked 8-2 (hey, remember that one?!) Of course yesterday we played players that we’d had missing that shitty day in August, but given the injuries we nevertheless have at the moment, the team was far from our strongest. So, that so many felt outright ill before kick off yesterday was fair enough. In fact after the match, my dad, a fellow super-believer, said, “Part of me did think we were going to get battered again”. So when all’s said and done, a 1-2 loss was a lot less scarring than the away version of the fixture. However, yesterday was much, much nastier than the 8-2 defeat. And how very sad does that sound.

There were whoops and jives and high fives galore an hour or so before kick off when Julien Laurens became the first to announce that Thomas Vermaelen would start after a three match absence. The subsequent teamsheet also filled us all with that least loyal bitch in the world: hope. OX-CHAM!

Considering our uselessness up front and our really quite rubbish goal difference, it was exciting to see the manager had finally decided to give him a go after months of trying to protect him from the spotlight and/or injuries. Emmanuel Frimpong has now been added to the Conor Henderson/Benik Afobe/Jack Wilshere/Carl Jenkinson list of young person doom, so while the Ox does look strong as a… well, yeah an Ox, I would imagine it’s a combination of the two factors he’s been trying to save him from.

So, the 18-year-old newbie started over the captain of the Russian national team. Against Manchester United. In a ‘must-win’ game (was a more bollocks description ever uttered? No, no it was not). Strange that this was the way we felt, but when you’ve seen poor old Andrei’s performances for much of the past six months, an understandable way to feel.

The first half was fairly even (I thought). We had one obvious weakness and it was a weakness those wily Mancs sought to exploit. He was Swiss. Bless poor Johan. He seems the nicest guy in the world, and looked like he was shaping up to be a vital cog in our machine last season. Remember the feeling when he was injured in that FA Cup match against this very opposition? Then he came back this season with his feet on back to front and then got stuck in a position that is not his. Arsenal Report gave a brilliant drumming Lady Gaga analogy during the match on this point.

In addition to this, JoDjou was not helped by the fact his support was baby Ox-Cham and Theo Walcott. He looked about as slow as a Marouane Chamakh/Per Mertesacker/Cesc Fabregas hybrid. Anyway, United were ahead just before half time, at a time in which we looked like we really needed half time. Nani had just had a shot saved by Szczesny, while Sleepy McWifeSwap had another go at Szczesny and also failed to score (for a change, fnar).

In the 44^th minute, the same man’s cross was not-blocked-at-all by JoDjou for Antonio Valencia to take his side into the break with a lead. Oh God, we thought as the players traipsed off, this could be a long afternoon. We all know Wenger never makes a substitution before the 70^th minute… how many can they score between now and then?

Happily, he seemed to have seen what we’d all seen. Djourou was off to make way for former Junior Gunners mascot Nico Yennaris. I mean, really. Man Utd in a must-win game (vom) and we’re dancing at the thought of a player hardly anyone had heard of coming on to rescue us. Arsenal, you make me weep.Rescue us he did though. He was pretty much faultless for the second 45 minutes – oh I’m sure I’ll be corrected on this by someone – and was a big positive in a bleak day. The other positive was good old Ox-Cham. As well as being generally Oxy (can I call him Foxy Oxy?), it was he that provided the goal for Robin van Persie.

RvP had missed an absolute SITTER in the first half. Why didn’t you take it yourself, Rosicky? Why why why? Of course I know why… your goaliscious captain was to your left and you’ve just celebrated two years without a goal yourself… still why why why! And that sitter was way sittier than the goal he did score. Great work from Foxy Oxy to set him up, but brilliant from Robin nevertheless. Happy 91^st Grandad indeed.

MINUTES later, Chamberlain’s number came up on the substitute scoreboard thing. I was obviously staring into the middle distance at the time, as my first thought upon hearing the reaction was that someone had been inexplicably sent off. I have never heard a reaction like that in response to a substitution announcement, never in my life. His replacement was, unfortunately, Andrei Arshavin. I choose to believe the reaction was more a consequence of Chamberlain’s brilliant performance than a consequence of the announcement of the arrival of the Russian. We were looking much sparkier and much of the threat we were providing was coming from the debutante. Still, the venom sprayed forth onto Arsene was quite unprecedented.

I understand the confusion. It was a “Whaaaaaaaaaa?” moment from wherever you’re sitting. But has anyone remembered the reaction we had to his signing? “Ah brilliant, another fucking kid” was one I heard in real life. I know we as football fans are fickle but. There were reports of “You don’t know what you’re doing” being sung, but I can honestly say I did not hear them. I would have noticed. And don’t give me “But there were, I heard them!” because all I’m saying is that I did not. Thus, it may have been sung, but not near me and not overwhelmingly so that it rang out around the Emirates. ‘Kay? There were definitely boos though, audible to all, including our little out-of-form Russian. Which he’ll have enjoyed, I’m sure.

While it was most definitely a baffler with regard to the substitution, if you’re going to cane Wenger for that one, then give him credit for the Yennaris sub. Arshavin’s arrival changed the game? Well so, I think, did Yennaris’s. Arsene scrabbled around for injuries as excuses for both substitutions, once again protecting his player. Obviously, he’s been rinsed for not starting Yennaris the new guy over Djourou the experienced defender as well.

Anyway, minutes later, Man United were ahead again. Arshavin has been directly blamed for that goal, but there were defenders missing when Wellbeck slid it home. As Vermaelen’s biggest fan, I have to admit that (I tried to say he’d had a good game last night, and got absolutely BULLETED)… but again, out of position, and just back from an injury.

We had a few more opportunities afterwards, but, well. We lost, so obviously they didn’t get taken. There were more boos at full time. I don’t know what gets into people’s minds, really. Arsenal are the only team I support but, maybe due to the Bobby connection, I’m quite fond of Villarreal. Maybe it’s that we beat them to get into the final in 2006, I don’t know. Anyway, they’re currently sitting four points off the bottom of the Spanish league and got beaten by Atletico Madrid 3-0 at the weekend. I follow their Twitter account, and properly welled up when I saw the banner their fans had made ahead of their match. It read: ‘Creemos en vosotros’. I took A level Spanish but despised my Spanish teacher, thus in my 17 year old wisdom decided I was going to be crap at it, just to spite her… but I believe that translates pretty much to ‘We believe in you’.

Imagine if we were down at 19^th in league. Reckon we’d have banners like that made? No, we have ‘Ta-ra Wenger!!! Don’t let the door hit you in your French arse on the way out Wenger!!! See ya Wenger, wouldn’t wanna be ya Wenger!!!’ banners made instead. Of course everyone has a right to their opinion, and on blogs and Twitters and Facebooks and general conversationings, it’s cool to express that (annoying sometimes, but cool all the same). But how productive is it going to be at an actual match? They say Eden Hazard was at the match yesterday… well he’ll have loved that, won’t he? And as @Hayesymemories said post-match yesterday: “After that great reception I can’t believe Arshavin’s poor display”.

It was just quite vicious yesterday. Not from everyone, not at all. But it was vocal enough. A poisonous atmosphere which was in massive contrast to the support the players received when we lost 8-2. And that’s the funny thing: I thought our performance yesterday against tougher opposition than the matches we’ve ballsed up before, was really pretty good. I actually feel more confident for upcoming fixtures than I did before. Odd, but that’s the way it is.

Much has been made, also, of Robin’s reaction to the substitution of Chamberlain for Arshavin. It was a face. OK? A face. We can all see where he’s coming from, but a face does not make a move to another team. “Oooooh it’ll be the straw that broke the camel’s back”, shut up. OK? Just shut your stupid mouth with its stupid words coming out of them.

I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be nasty. Don’t shut up. Well do, but you know. Gentler than that. I realise fourth place is still looking dodgy, but there are fans of teams in worse places than still in the Champions League and the FA Cup and fighting for fourth, and not embarrassing themselves at home matches. That’s all. I also realise securing fourth is a big factor in Robin staying or leaving, yet I still think there’s more to it than that. Cesc buggered off because he had a Barcelona. We are Robin’s Barcelona. He could flit off to Real Madrid or Bayern Munich or someone and (possibly) win some stuff, and he’ll be happy and smiley and love it, and he’ll still regret leaving. They always do.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fantastic support they get here.

Swansea City 3 – 2 Arsenal

Alright here’s the deal. In May 1998 I woke up one morning and watched this team called Arsenal (who?) win this trophy shaped like a head with big ears, against a team dressed as bar codes. I know that at the time I’d seen this strange team in red and white play before, because my parents were fans and because I remember knowing the names of the players on the team back then. As it stands now, however, that morning is the earliest memory I can gather of an actual match.

Simplicity. One match and a trophy – how easy is this football malarkey? You can call me a glory hunter if you wish, but I simply like to consider myself as having been born under a lucky star. Christ, think of the other options. I certainly did not know, dressed in a red t-shirt and white shorts that morning (I didn’t have an actual Arsenal shirt back then… nor any kind of fashion sense) that this team of men hoofing a round thing made of leather would go on to become such a massive source of emotion for me. If I had known (and had a brain more mature than an 8-year-old’s), would I have still got so sucked in?

I sodding well hope so. It was the start of a beautiful relationship.

Today was a cack day. We were in a no-win situation all along. Win, and oh well it’s Swansea. You’re Arsenal, of course you’re supposed to beat them. Forget their frankly brilliant home record for a minute – you’re the big bad Arsenal from the big bad city, you winning is like the big bad wolf eating the fragile little red riding hood chick, who FRANKLY, I always thought should have been more cautious anyway. No nan’s chin is as hairy as a wolf’s, no matter how much she’s let herself go.

The team we fielded was not first choice by any means at all. And let me prefix this by saying I thought Swansea were great today. I know my opinion will matter to them of course. Their home support actually drowned out our away support, which rarely if ever happens, and the team on the field was good. That we were the first of the season to have managed more than one goal there says a lot more about them than about anyone else. So good for you, Swansea. Just make sure you keep that up against all the teams I hate, and you and I will get along juuuuuust fine.

So back to Arsenal. Like I was saying, definitely not a first choice team out there today. Look at the injury room, which bulges at the seams at the moment. There’s a Vermaelen, a Santos, a Sagna, a Jenkinson, a Wilshere, a Gibbs (who?), a Diaby (… no really though, who?), a Coquelin, and an Arteta (arguably). There is nothing but laughter, gut-stabbing laughter, caused within me when I look at that list. How. I mean, how. How though. Really, how. It’s all very well saying “WHEN so-and-so is back…”, but really… when WILL so-and-so be back? It’s utterly frightening luck we seem to be having this season (and the one before that, and the one before that, and the one before…)

So I had had a disgusting feeling about this match ever since about Wednesday anyhow. We started well, with a goal, which can never be bad. It was well taken by RvP and settled the nerves a little. Then they pulled one back through a penalty. I bastarding well called it as well. The second the player went down, I went “Not a penalty”. And I never see these things, ever. Then when I saw him grinning his really small ears off, it was confirmed. Looking back at it, HE (Nathan Dyer) treads on Ramsey. I’m not sure why Ramsey didn’t protest harder but then, well, protesting has never got anyone anywhere before, has it?

I cannot remember the last time we didn’t have a penalty call go the wrong way for us. Not grizzling, not wallowing in self-pity, it’s just a simple fact. Of course we had 75 minutes to rectify that situation, but nevertheless. We then turned to shit. Theo was nowhere to be seen, Miquel was being properly tested, and Swansea had really started getting on top of us. I’ve got to say, though, as a seasoned Gooner, bugger the possession stats. We’ve out-possessed every single team that has ever graced the planet and it’s got us nowhere, so those little Sky number imagey things that come up, can do one.

They then scored fairly early on in the second half. Then we leveled the scores through Theo, who had had a rough day. Then, while the cameras were still showing replays, suddenly it was 3-2. It was sooooooooo last season’s Arsenal. I think it was Danny Graham who scored their third. Tom Daley Divey Diverson had scored their second.

We kept going. Rosicky and Henry and Chamberlain on to help out  – Arshavin went off… he had been dreadful. And there were chances, but we obviously didn’t convert them. Basically, another bad day in a bad season for the Gunners. There are big worries cropping up all over the place, and over-reactions a-plenty. Obviously there’s glee from warty faced idiots elsewhere, but that’s expected. The real worrying reaction is the one from within the Arsenal support.

Of course complaints are due. Why DO we still have players in our team who simply don’t cut the mustard? Why HAVEN’T these issues been addressed further? That’s all very well, and you crack on. But then you get people sending abuse – and I mean abuse – to our very own players from behind their tiny little computer screens. How anyone could ever take issue with Aaron Ramsey is beyond me. For what it’s worth, I didn’t think he had that bad a game today. He went for it in spite of probably having been the most pressured player on the field (something about Cardiff or something). Besides this, he seems to be one of the least offensive humans on the planet.

It’s deceiving, because he’s not the sparkiest of interviewees, and doesn’t seem an especially strong character. But take a look back and see how he’s always one of the first on the scene when a team mate gets into a bit of argy-bargy on the field. He reinforced the idea of possessing a captain-like personality earlier this week when his comments regarding the position of Wales manager came into question. I’m not sure if the words he wrote on Twitter were all his own, but I tend to think it’s likely they were.

Then look further back, at the life he’s had at 21. He’s suffered a terrible injury that could have seen him never making another appearance for us or Wales again. He’s been made captain of his beloved national team by a beloved manager. He’s then gone on to face the death of said beloved manager in utterly horrendous circumstances. And he’s 21. When I was 21, I’d broken my foot, come first in a 100 metre sports day race, and had four teeth taken out. Those events were also much more spread out than the ones in Ramsey’s life.

I personally love him, and hope he’s with Arsenal for a long time to come. He’s like Theo in that he’s had an awful lot of attention focused on him and, unfortunately, in Britain, attention tends to be nothing more than an appetiser for the feast of criticism up next. If you think it’s alright to send death threats to ANYONE, you’re nothing better than the scum on the old, dried out pond in the park no one goes to any more.

Anyway, I digress. So, 1998, I’m watching the Arsenal. They’re looking pretty tasty to me. 2012, I’m watching the Arsenal. Tasty? Not so much. They’re testing my bloody patience, and there’s a hell of a lot the powers that be have to do in order to fix the issues at hand.

If the Arsenal was a friend I’d had since I was 8, I’d say that this is the year in which his problems have really come home to roost. This is where the friendship is tested. The same goes for everyone else wondering if continuing making an effort with him is worth it. I know there are issues at the moment, but what happens to a person in a tricky spot deserted by his mates? He ends up mugged and homeless, that’s what happens. If you really don’t think it’s worth it, that’s cool. Say goodbye. I know he’s a pain in the neck and you could find other mates elsewhere anyway.  But he’s my mate, and I love him. His problems are fixable, a mere liking for prescription drugs as opposed to a full blown heroin addiction.

Spend some money, sort the board out, face realities, blah blah blah. I could try and talk about those issues, but I don’t know enough to do so and it would be even more boring than the rest of this blog has been so far anyway. It’s a hard time right now, and the question looms as to whether anything will be done about it in this little transfer window we have going here. It took a bad result to properly set the cogs of any visible movement in motion last time, so I guess there’s hope there as well. Perhaps the little run of form pre-December was misleading, but I do still think that when (there’s that word again) the players waiting in the wings DO come back, we’ll be seeing a more accurate representation of the stuff we have to work with here. Either way, I’m banking on my mate to pull through. I have to… we have United next!

Arsenal 1-0 Leeds Utd (Henry, 78′)

I left the stadium last night with a massive grin on my face, thinking “Wow, I’ve just seen my all-time favourite player score for the club of my life in his first appearance back here.” It was brilliant.

I got home, watched it back again, talked to some people, had some tea, and went to bed. Five minutes later I sat up and burst into tears. It was only a 1-0 win. It was only an FA Cup match. It was not against a huge current rival. It didn’t win us a trophy. But remove rivalries, competitions and allegiances for a second and think about what happened yesterday.

One of the greatest players to have ever worn our glorious crest returned to the Club that he loves. He returned slightly older, slightly slower and slightly hairier of chin. He also returned as a fan. Thierry Henry is a swaggering, confident, beautiful superstar of a man in my unbiased and accurate opinion, and yesterday’s goal celebration was one of the best I have ever seen. In a world of bought loyalties (THEY KNOW WHO THEY ARE), no number of superyachts in Formentera or penthouses in Monaco could have bought that emotion.

Listen to this. John Motson’s description of it sounds made up, like one of those comic strips in the Mirror. Seventy-eight flaming minutes it took us. Twelve minutes it took him. This is not to take anything from the exceptional pass put in by Song. Nor is it to take anything from the fact we had loads of possession and opportunities and no end product. Which is another issue for another day. But though I’m not really a fan of all that ‘written in the stars’ nonsense, it really wasn’t ever going to be anyone else, was it? I mean, half because no one else could finish, but half also because last night, Thierry Henry was going to be Thierry Henry and no one was going to stop Thierry Henry from doing so.

It was such a Thierry finish too. Pre-match, when everyone was discussing how great it would be to see him bag the winner, I plodded quietly along, thinking “It’s not going to happen, but it will still be nice to see him”. As people scrabbled around for tickets, I thought “Oh man, I really hope he gets on the pitch after all these shenanigans”.  I don’t know why I worried, really. The scriptwriter has been an utter bastard to us in recent times. It was about time he got drunk and kindly, and decided to give us a happy chapter for a change.

So, as I was saying: the celebration. The run to Wenger was reminiscent of Robin last year and Cesc in 2008. Cesc’s heart may have sadly been previously violated by another lot in another city far away thus rendering his continued undivided attention to us impossible, but he still knew that Wenger was the one he had to run to. Ditto Robin last year. And so did Thierry. His beloved Highbury may now be gone, but the man that brought him to Arsenal in the first place is still here and thank God for that.

As he made his really uncool and unpracticed run toward the boss after his goal, his team mates bounced off him one by one. They wanted in on the action, but also looked a little scared to get involved. Even Woj ran up from his box to have a feel. I think what I loved the most about yesterday though was that Thierry actually seemed slightly surprised that he’d scored. As the coolest customer the world has ever seen, it would have been great to have seen one of his ‘Bov’d!’ celebrations – but to see him all wide-eyed and roary was a million times better.

Believe it or not, there were other players out there last night. Nico Yennaris, replacing the twanged Francis Coquelin (who’s also just signed a new deal- get in!) was brilliantly speedy yesterday. He wasn’t tested a lot, but what he showed was good. Captain Mikel Arteta was his usual reliable self, Ramsey had a great match and Miquel also looks brighter by the day. That said, it was not a great match in all. Before Mr. Henry arrived on the scene, I’m pretty sure it was going to a replay. In fact, given the two late saves Szczesny made, it could have been even worse than just a trek up north for an extra match.

Nevertheless, we’ve progressed to the next round, for Aston Villa at home. It was Henry what did it. Suddenly I’m 15 again. And that’s what brought on the tears. Most of the time eternal optimism does nothing for you but make you very, very resilient. But occasionally, the fairy tale dream does come true and does allow Little Miss Hopeful to continue to believe in magic. The King is back. He may only be here in a playing capacity for six more weeks, but in reality, Thierry Henry is with the Arsenal for keeps.

~ ~ ~

My three favourite images from last night. One, Two, Three. (All courtesy of various Tumblettes. Get on the Thierry tag right now. It’s a beautiful place).

Well, there’s no doubting we’ll all be hoping Arsene is planning to bolster his squad in more ways than simply the loan signing of a 34 year old former Arsenal player, but there’s a time and a place for that kind of talk and it’s not here today. Upon hearing the news a Thierry return was a possibility, there was a mixed reaction from most, including myself. There are many questions and queries as to what it will mean or what it will do for the team, but pretty much as soon as the chances went from ‘possible’ to ‘probable’, my ever-reigning heart took over from my rarely used brain.

As Thierry said himself in his Arsenal.com Arsenal Player interview today:

“When it comes to Arsenal my heart will always do the talking.”

Last day at Highbury

As both he and the manager have been at pains to stress since the rumours gathered speed, Thierry is not returning for The Thierry Show. I’m sure if and when he does get his time on the pitch, it will be a focal point of the match, but the bottom line is he’s being brought in on loan to help out the team. I’m not sure if you watched the Fulham match or not but if you did, you’ll have noticed: we could use a bit of that up front these days. By all accounts he is still stunning in training, and I’d be willing to bet he’s still faster than most of the men he’ll come up against over the next few weeks.

But no matter what he’ll be bringing us on the pitch, it’s important to remember what he offers off it as well. He is Thierry Henry. He was the idol of millions of children, most of whom are now currently in or around our starting line-up. Imagine being Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain or Carl Jenkinson today? It’s THIERRY BLOODY HENRY! I personally am thrilled to see him back, albeit temporarily. Of course he’s not the answer to all our problems, but again I’ll state: IT’S THIERRY BLOODY HENRY!

The man has won everything a human man can win, besides a Nobel Peace Prize and a Costa First Novel Award. He is a winner and a competitor and both of these are excellent attributes to be bringing to our little squad. Let’s not forget, also, that in the four years since he’s been gone, we’ve won ourselves an army of new fans who will have never got to see Titi play for the Arse for realz. I don’t think bringing back a player as loved and admired as him can be a bad thing at all and today I’m as smiley as can be. And no matter how the next couple of months go, I’m still planning on giving my first-born son the middle name Henry. They’ll all think it’s English Henry. Only I will know it’s the vastly superior French ‘Onnnn-ree’. Well, and all you lot now. But shh. Ah mon Dieu, just look at him. No wonder we were so good.

Swaggah. (photo courtesy of El Greco who took most of the photos that day!)

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go do more ugly-crying while watching videos of the day my second favourite Frenchman of all time, came home to the Arsenal.

Welcome back Thierry. 

Fulham 2-1 Arsenal 

It’s 11.03am on Tuesday 3^rd January. It’s raining heavier than I can remember it having rained in a long time. Dorothy passed by my house in her flying cottage last night. And we lost yesterday.

Happy bastard new year.

Someone must have drained all the sunshine and light and positivity out of me overnight because I am struggling to see a point to this stupid month otherwise. Let’s just call the whole thing off. No more Januaries. We can keep the 31^st, because it’s the only day we need in a transfer window anyway, plus it’s my birthday (though today I hate birthdays too as they’re simply a sign you’re one year closer to death WOO!) But besides that, just sod it all right off. Take February with you too, and don’t let the door hit you in the backside on the way out.

And now we must commence the post-mortem of yesterday’s monstrosity. I went to the match at Craven Cottage. For those unaware of the geography, Wigan may be far, Hull may be a pain to get to, but nowhere is as far as Fulham. London-dwellers, is there anything more disconcerting than venturing over to the opposite side of the river to your usual? I forget whether it was Craven Cottage or the pre-match pub that was on the wrong side, but either way it feels like your head is on back to front when you get near there. Bleurgh.

Now. Allow me to watch the bitesize highlights on Arsenal Player, as all the stuff happened up the opposite end yesterday and you have little or no perspective as to what is going on. Bear with me…

BITESIZE HIGHLIGHTS COMMENTARY

Ooh what a miss from Gervinho! MEGA GOAL FROM KOSCIELNY! Some very brilliant if very frustrating football going on from us here. Arrrrrghhhhh how did that not go in, Song?! Shiznit, that was also close from that Fulham man with bad hair. Ruiz? Another solid save from the Fulham GK on an RvP shot… and another one on Ramsey. Is their keeper still Mark Schwarzer? Typical if so. If not, I don’t care who Fulham’s goalkeeper is*. Wow, we really are as shit as we looked in this second half. Ugh, another missed header by Clint Dempsey… we were truly hanging on there. 

At least our fans were brilliant. Great save from Szczesny. Fuuuuuuck, kill it off, kill it off! Ugh, Djourou. “Two yellows make a red”, thanks for clearing that one up, Mr Commentator. Djourou off.  Replay… OH YOU SLAG, YOU’RE 27 STONE AND YOU GO DOWN THAT EASILY! Bollocks. This month just gets worse by the minute.

Ooh. The Fulham fans are alive! And there goes their inevitable equaliser. Arse. Annnnnnd now Zamora in High Heels wins them the game. Prickety prick shit arse bollocks.

*Goalkeeper was David Stockdale. So now you know.

~ ~ ~

ARRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH. And I didn’t even mention the penalty we should have had. I am definitely a believer in “A decision didn’t go your way? Boo hoo, play on and fix that”. Unless it’s RvP being sent off for having a shot at goal. I will never be over that one. Never ever. But how many weeks have there been in which we should have had a penalty this season? SEVENTY TWO????

Ultimately yesterday, we were great in the first half but did not take our chances and then were shit in the second half in which there were no chances to take. We were second to everything and surrounded every time we got near the ball in the second forty-five. Djourou’s sending off may have contributed to the Fulham comeback, but the fact remains that had we scored three or four in the first half  – and we could have – it wouldn’t have mattered. And they probably wouldn’t have made a comeback anyway.

Koscielny was man of the match by far. Szczesny made some good saves until he contributed to their comeback (which he’s ‘fessed up to already). Coquelin was superb for 95% of the match yesterday, and Aaron Ramsey’s first half work rate was immense. Ultimately though, that sodding killer instinct we keep having to talk about, was severely lacking. There’s too much a case of being presented with loads of opportunities early on but thinking “Oh well, we’re only seven minutes in, good effort anyway” as it gets skied over the crossbar.

No. No, no, no. You get a chance? You score that chance! You don’t go “Ah, damn it, better luck next time”. If we did more of that, we’d be battering teams as opposed to just about winning by a goal all the time. Or drawing. Or losing.

Oh Arsenal. What are you like. I thought we were past this. We hadn’t had a ridiculous, unbelievable result in ages. The last was probably Blackburn and that didn’t count because we were brand new and it was freaky. Since then our successes have been greater than our failures. And then you go and do this. Oh Arsenal. Just allow me to wallow for a while longer.

*Wallow*

It might be easier to get over it if it wasn’t raining so hard outside, and if it wasn’t the most depressing month of the year. It also might be easier to get over it if it didn’t feel we’d come so far this season. And we really have. In case the thirty nine thousand million references to the start of our season had managed to elude your attention over the past few months, we really didn’t start our season very well. In fact, if you were unaware of this, you may also be unaware we’ve not won any silverware for the past six years. At an average of sixty five times per match, we’re really not reminded of it enough, so I thought it best to let you in on that one.

But to go from hovering above relegation and having received more red cards than goals we’d scored, to finishing the calendar year in at fourth, and one of only two English teams remaining in the Champions League, was quite a magnificent turn around for us. I didn’t blog about last weekend, which is a shame because last weekend was great. Everyone we wanted to drop points, dropped points, while we won. Little old us, plodding along like we do, largely ignored by everyone until something goes spectacularly wrong. Like the unliked child of the family. That child always goes on to be a millionaire, so JOKE’S ON YOU SUCKAAAAAHS.

Anyway. Yesterday was really poor. But, lesson learned and all that. The group of players we have now are more mature and experienced than any groups we’ve had in a while, and if anyone can learn from it, it’s them. In addition to this: THE KING LIVES. LONG LIVE THE KING! In spite of being a bit wary of the return of the Titi, I have now thrown my brain feelings out the window and my heart is bursting at the thought of seeing him back in red and white. There may be tears, not gonna lie.

A whole six days off until we play again, against Leeds in the FA Cup next Monday. We may have to float there if this weather keeps it up. Apologies for the tone. Polly will be back next week.