Dooooom. Gloooooom. Not really though, shut up.
Remember the first Arsenal match of last season when we played Newcastle and scored loads of goals and Gervinho got sent off for not throwing his weight into it and knocking Joey Barton flat on his arse? Ah, how much van Persie made that match. I’m pretty sure that even after all those goals and that spectacular performance, they had still written us off before we’d even left the pitch.
Same old, same old, this year I’m afraid. A nil-niller against a north-east side again (because van Runslikeagirl didn’t score at all in that match actually, he didn’t want to, you see), and it’s all doom and gloom among us Arsenal supporters.
Er, is it? I’m ever so sensitive to the grey mist of depression befalling my comrades, you see. Like a dog. But I didn’t notice it too much after Saturday. Did you? It seems everyone noticed the miserable mood among us except for us. The fear and the worry and the frustration so written about over the past 48 hours seems to be very much absent from the source from which it is alleged to originate. Not that that’ll stop ‘em of course!
Olivier Giroud and his spectacular face entered the field of play with about 25 minutes to go and had two fairly clear-cut chances, both of which he failed to put away. Ever since, all that has been written about is how disappointing we all found him and how concerned we are that we’re never going to score a goal again. Yet all I’ve seen is people saying ‘Don’t be silly, don’t be disappointed or concerned.’ I haven’t seen anyone be disappointed or concerned. WHERE ARE ALL THE DISAPPOINTED AND CONCERNED PEOPLE, MEDIA? Anyhoo, he said the following afterwards:
“Last season was wonderful here for Robin, but before that, he took time to settle. I am just asking people to be a little patient with me. I am not here to make people forget Robin, because he has made beautiful things here, but I just want to bring something new.”
Something new, with reinforced ankles and an unblackened, lying, tongue, one hopes.
“I know Arsenal is a great club and needs a striker ready and efficient quickly. I need games to get confidence, and it is up to me to succeed.”
Really, if he’d scored on Saturday, while it would have been good and excellent, it also would have activated the worries in me a little. We know only too well what it’s like to have a player hit the ground running and then end up doing little more than just running, headless-chicken style, as his career progresses.
Believe it or not, there were positives to come from the match. The defence for one. How we have missed Per Mertesacker. He’s just so cool and steady and sturdy and long. Meanwhile Jenkinson had a super game. And Szczesny, if he’d had anything to do, I’m sure would have done it quite exemplarily. Santi Cazorla was just ahhhhhhhhhh. So delightful to watch. I’m now torn between calling him Sexi or calling him Caphwoarla due to the sheer unf-ishness of his play.
It was a fairly frustrating day otherwise, with Sunderland fans going on like they’d won the league at the end of it, and us just wondering why we’d bothered really. But there’s no cause for suicide. It’ll all come good sooner rather than later, this is a really exciting season we’re about to see.
I feel this is a completely pointless blog to be honest, as everything that could have been said has been said. But don’t listen to any of the people paid to talk about it, because the only place they have been speaking from is most certainly not their mouth or brain.
Oh also, Song’s off. The more I think about that one, the less bothered I feel. Maybe naïve, he was key and good and bla bla bla, but if he’s being a prick, then bye bye, frankly. It’s great that Wenger seems to have become a bit ‘Well ta-ra then, gimpy’, because this has been needed to be done for donkeys’ years. If you don’t want to be here, don’t let the door hit you on the arse on the way out. He’s another player made by the trust put in him by Wenger and to all the people pointing the finger at the Club for getting rid, they might want to remember that a few years back they were probably pointing the very same finger at them for keeping the faith with a player whose style was more fit to a donkey exercise yard than a Premier League match.
Same goes for van Tooth. I’m sure we all feel like mugs for having lapped up all his words last season, and sung his name, and loved him, and been fiercely protective of him, but hey, aren’t we silly to believing the best in people! He plays tonight. May locusts fly up his nose and the tendrils of Medusa’s hair wrap themselves steadily around his ankles and squeeze. May his dinner be cold, his water bottle broken and his eyes crossed, and may it rain on him until the end of eternity. He’s moved to the right place for that last one.
I now eagerly await the arrival of Nuri Sahin, a player I have absolutely no idea about, but that apparently does want to be here – how unfashionable! – so he is as welcome as a really welcome thing.
Next week’s blog will be less shit, I promise. Oh by the way, there is someone who keeps coming onto my blog using different names (but the same IP address, deerrrrrr) and just copy and pasting other people’s blogs into the comments. Stop that.
Bye for now!