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We shall briefly touch upon the affliction known as Total Impotence Torture Syndrome, or ‘T.I.T.S.’

Arsenal have been suffering from various strains of T.I.T.S. for some time now. We first contracted the disorder in the middle of January, with precisely no goals against the Staffordshire Cave Dwellers. T.I.T.S. got slightly worse against Chelsea, before the patient slightly recovered against Burnley, before regressing against Southampton on Tuesday night with the most ball-aching, pox-ridden, pustule infected case of T.I.T.S. we have known since … last season.

The result against Burnley provided some respite against the onset of T.I.T.S. Mr. Saunders, himself seemingly immune from T.I.T.S. despite only recently recovering from a spell at the quack’s, once again saved Woolwich’s bacon. Mr Kanvar Kumar, hitherto a somewhat underwhelming performer and indeed a bit-part player in the infection of T.I.T.S. displayed quite the jiggery-pokery, showing Pisces’ Cheek* to the ball to open our account. Rather than kill the game off, Woolwich suffered a bout of mid-game T.I.T.S. This particular strain of T.I.T.S. occurs when we are in the lead. We rarely, for some unfathomable reason, increase our lead. We get a touch of the T.I.T.S. and Mr. Vokes bobbled on in for the equaliser.

Saunders, despite this being his first game since November, became something of a nose to tail eater, going from hamstring sufferer to bacon-saver once again. He has been involved in 15 goals in his last 14 games for Woolwich. What a signing he has proven himself to be. Thanks be to Liverpool FC for facilitating the move.

Mention should go to young Fenton, who seemed to be suffering from acute T.I.T.S., something he is well used to. Mr. Alexander Webbley was wonderful, I thought, and a bright future beckons for him. His cousin, incidentally, is John-James O’Connor, who survived being managed by Sam Allardyce. It was the debut of Malcolm Elleray, our new mid-fielder, and he looks quite the player; energetic, accurate and full of spunk. Let us hope we can keep him free of T.I.T.S.

We moved a step closer to emulating the feat of a highly overrated Blackburn Rovers side back in 1886, by winning a third FA Cup on the bounce. I should add that when Blackburn did it they only had to play a bunch of 50-year-old Crimean amputees and a gang of rickets-ridden orphans from Preston, so for this feat to be achieved in an era of unimaginable wealth would be quite something.

To the Emirates then, for a full-blown epidemic of T.I.T.S. which lasted the whole 90 minutes. This was a very troubling outbreak. Médecins Sans Frontières were called. Field hospitals were set up for the walking wounded, afflicted by this awful disease. Due to T.I.T.S., Woolwich are now the official Winless Wallies of the school. Not a single victory in four league games. Not a goal in three. TWO POINTS BELOW RUDDY TOTTENHAM and five points beneath LEICESTER FOSSE, who await us for what is looking like a St. Valentine’s Day massacre on February 14th. Let us hope we find a cure for T.I.T.S. before then.

I shall be away for a fortnight in the North American Colonies; Mr. Disney’s hellhole awaits, as do the fly-blown smuggler’s haunt of the Keys. I shall make sure to take my twelve gauge and my mosquito repellent.