First of all, I must apologise to the Ole Ole Auditor, who text messaged me last night to ask if I was all set to write the blog today. My initial reply was “who the fuck is this?” since my phone didn’t recognise the number. I knew it wasn’t Arseblogger, since I know his number. So said text messager replied to me and said he was the Ole Ole Auditor, and I decided that was licence to send back a rather rude message. I may even have mentioned his mum (I’m not sure. I’ve deleted all the text messages since; I find myself increasingly doing that of an evening). Anyway, he phoned me, I hadn’t a fucking clue who it was cos I was so blind drunk, and I had to text Arseblogger to find out. Anyway, long and boring story short, I now know who it was, and I apologise. That’s what happens when you talk to a drunk cunt.
Secondly, being madder at work than a badger on LSD that’s just been taken to the circus and pumped full of mescaline, I haven’t had time to frequent the forums recently, and I had no idea that Arseblogger was going to London today (until earlier in the week when he asked me to write the blog – right enough, with the benefit of hindsight that should’ve been a clue). So when he texted me last night to say it was only his fucking birthday today, I felt like a right cunt. Even more so. So I’m sure you’ll join me in wishing Arseblogger many happy returns on his 43rd birthday. There’s no doubting, he looks good for his age. I’m glad he’s chosen one of the game of the season nail-biters for his trip. Fingers crossed for an 83-0
So, enough of the frivolity. What’s happening in the world of Arsenal today?
Firstly the bad news. Tomas Rosicky has no fixed date of return, leaving the manager speechless. I’m not sure that’s too much of a problem, frankly, since barely anyone can know who he is anyway. I don’t know what we do about him. Not a lot, I suppose – it’s not like we can sell him, and having signed a contract, (quite rightly) he’s going to carry on trying to get fit. He doesn’t strike me as the sort that would drag an injury out because he’s a lazy cunt that just wants to sit and earn his tens of thousands of pounds a week for doing fuck all (unlike, say, me, perhaps), and he’s a talented player. It’s very frustrating.
Worryingly, Samir Nasri also remains sidelined by a knee injury, and joins Rosicky, Diaby, and Eduardo as the only other injured members of the squad. Nasri, as you know, picked up his knee injury on international duty. I fucking hate international duty. I hate it more than I hate being poked in the eye with a fucking hot poker. And I fucking hate that.
In better news (sort of), Silvester is fit and ready for his first game of the season. When Gallas joined us, he’d been agitating for a move, and I think it’s fairly common knowledge that we’d been after him for a while. But Silvester is a cunt. A proper cunt. A right cunt. He played for *those* cunts right at the time when we were having our most intense rivalries with them, and he was a fairly significant part of their team (who are cunts). I think to get himself out of My Book of Cunts (of which I have two – he’s in the bad one), he’s going to have to do something very special. Like kill Gary Neville.
What else is going on? Gael Clichy feared the worst when that fat Bolton cunt tried to break his leg (I don’t know why the Chester Chronicle gets the credit for those quotes; it just seemed one of the more obscure reports on News Now!). Some people, including Craig Burley, commenting on Setanta, thought that challenge was fair “because he got the ball”. I didn’t. I think that “if you take the man after the ball that’s just the game” is a big load of old hairy bollocks. That way do very, very serious injuries lie, as we’re all too familiar with, and I don’t blame the team one little bit for the way they reacted on the pitch. They’ve seen it happen – horrifically – to one of their mates and unsurprisingly, they’re not keen to see it happen again. People can bitch about Cesc waving imaginary yellow cards all they like, and I don’t like to see that either, but the fact is that Clichy could’ve been seriously injured, because of some fat no mark Bolton cunt being “committed”. Fuck off. I really do fucking hate Bolton (not as much as I used to, mind). And yes, I’m probably overprotective and hypocritical. So?
Top man Cesc Fabregas has been talking about how he’ll never leave Arsenal. He seems to qualify the statement slightly by saying that he will only stay as long we keep playing our football, but it’s so refreshing to hear a footballer who isn’t *just* interested in the money (and regardless, I’m sure he’s very well paid indeed). Also, I’ve no doubt The Sun has spun those “quotes”.
So, Hull today at home. It’s on TV at half five on Setanta 1 (so no doubt we’ll have to put up with that cunt Burley again). George Boateng has been talking up Hull’s chances, and there’s no doubt that they’ve made a great start to their season. Let’s hope we can bring them crashing back down to earth today and take the three points.
Once again, many happy returns to Arseblogger, and I’ll see you all tomorrow for post match ramblings and other nonsense.
Come on The Arsenal!!
