Arseblog, the arsenal blog

A morning visitor

What an odd morning.

I woke up to the dog barking and somebody knocking on the back door. This is unusual for a couple of reasons because most of the time people who call knock at the front door and even if they do they don’t do so at 7am. Naturally I was suspicious.

I had a look out and saw a tall, imposing figure carrying what looked like some kind of futuristic weapon. Now I was even more suspicious and, I’ll happily admit, a bit nervous. What if I opened the door and they bashed my head in? Or what if they were coming to steal my extensive wine collection of three bottles? At this point Archer was getting quite antsy, barking and growling but the person wasn’t going away.

‘To hell with it’, I thought, ‘you only live once. If you get your head bashed in, you get your head bashed in’, so I put on a old motorbike helmet and opened the door.

“Hello,” said a voice.

“Oh, it’s you,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s very simple,” said Daniel Day-Lewis, clutching his Golden Globe to his chest. “I’m here for you.”

“You’re going to bash my head in now, aren’t you?”

“No!” he laughed unhappily, “I’m a man of peace. Like Gandhi. Or Joey Barton. Violence is never the answer. Unless the question is ‘What is the best way to deal with a situation involving John Terry, four Water Sheringhams and the people who made the latest James Bond film which is overly long and probably one of the worst films ever made?’ In this circumstances ultra-laser violence is the only answer but I wouldn’t carry it out myself, I’d hire a hit squad, my hands are clean.”

Archer, having realised that Abraham Lincoln’s left foot is no threat, pottered off down the garden to perform his morning ablutions.

“So when you say you’re here for me, what do you mean?”

“I could sense a shortfall in the universe, and in preparation for my next Academy Award winning role as God in Wes Anderson’s quirky new film ‘God and a Lobster’, I am at one with every living creature, with every thing in this vast – but at the same time quite tiny – world of ours.”

“I see.”

“I could sense that you were missing something.”

“Well, I haven’t been able to find the iPad charger for a couple of days.”

“Look inside yourself.”

“It’s definitely not in there.”

“No,” he method-actedly said, “I mean search your feelings and all that. You know something is missing.”

I searched my feelings. I could only come up with the fact that I needed to wee.

“JD,” he sighed. “You’re missing JD.”

“Steady on now, Daniel,” I said, “I love a drink as much as the next man but whiskey at 7am is a dangerous road and one I’m not prepared to go down.”

He sighed.

“Not Jack Daniels. Johan. Johan Djourou.”

It hit me like a hammer blow.

“My God.”

“I’m here, my son,” said Daniel Day Lewis. “Since Djourou’s departure for Hannover you’ve known there was going to be a problem.”

“I have. It’s true.”

“After a poor result who was going to come out and tell Arsenal TV everything was going to be all right? Who would talk about the need to regroup? To focus on the next game? To keep our spirits up? Who could possibly be so in touch with the fans? Who would stress the need to keep heads upwards rather than downwards? Who would say that we have to keep looking forwards, not backwards, and remain twirling, always twirling?”

“Oh, Daniel Day Lewis, you are so wise!”

“I know, God is wise and I am God and God is me. We’re screen testing Benedict Cumberbatch for the role of the lobster, by the way. My suggestion. Wes wanted to go with Bill fucking Murray. Always with the Bill Murray. However, I digress. They took JD and what did they do?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“WHAT DID THEY DO ARSEBLOG?”

“THEY FILLED IT WITH BS!”, I wept.

“Yes, yes they did. Total BS.”

“It hurts.”

“I know.”

“I love Bacary Sagna.”

“We all do, we all do.”

“How could they do this to him?”

“Life isn’t fair, you should know this by now. The bad guys never get what’s coming to them and it’s the good guys who suffer.”

“Poor Bacary.”

“There there. Dry your eyes,” he said handing me a monogrammed handkerchief.

“So, are you going to save him?”

“I’ve got lots of this God shit worked out, but saving him is beyond me just yet. I’ve simply come to you on a day between games when there’s little news simply so you don’t have to write a blog post about how Bacary says we need to keep our spirits high and show character.”

“You are a kind and benevolent God, Daniel Day Lewis.”

“God is love-”

“Baby, don’t hurt me no more!”

“Don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry.”

“Now, I must go. I have other errands to attend to, people to see right and peace to bring to this world.”

“Are you going to sort out the flag problem in Northern Ireland?”

“What am I, a miracle worker?”

And with that he turned on his heel, hopped over next door’s wall and ran through gardens into the distance. Archer came back in after doing his business.

‘What an odd thing to happen,’ I thought. ‘Perhaps I was just dreaming,’ but then I looked down and saw his cloven footprints outside the back door. Oh, and his Golden Globe which he’d forgotten. I might pawn it.

I might just pawn it.

jackwilshere_mancity
Previous post

Arsenal 0-2 Man City: Gunners self-destruct again

Arsenal tactics
Next post

Tactics Column: Arsenal's system prone to individual errors

arseblog

arseblog

Fan of Arsenal, Robert Pires and most everything to do with rum and whiskey. Writer, podcaster, ace flintknapper, sluggish centre-half. Smiter of those that ought to be smote.