Oh, it’s quiet today.
How quiet? Well, let me put it like this. I was going to write an entire blog post reliving the day – in great detail – when Jack Wilshere was the hero at the Arsenal training ground. It all started when a nefarious West Ham midfielder came and stole some of the chef’s green vegetables as he was trying to make a lunch for a very important visitor (I don’t know who. Maybe an ex-president or Sterling Mallory Archer or someone).
Anyway, poor old Rob the Chef was distraught for without these vegetables all would be lost, for some reason. He tried to get Frimpong to help him, because he doesn’t have much else to do, but he was too busy hacking Samir Nasri’s voicemail, changing the message to a high-pitched screech of ‘BENCH’. Then posting it on Instagram. With the hashtag #zany.
However, seeing the chef in distress, Jack bounded into action to save the day and after a tumultuous chase – which would probably have included scenes designed purely to pad the whole thing out so it looked like there was actually a decent amount written today (much like this very sentence) – he finally apprehended the villain in question. There might have been a fight scene, something like this I’d imagine (raaaarrgh!), before Jack wrestled the goods from the sinister clutches of the West Ham man who fought to keep hold of them right until the end.
After which, at a ceremony presided over by Charlie George in a tuxedo, he was awarded the Noble peas prise.
Yes. That’s how quiet it is. But I love you too much to put you through 15 paragraphs before hitting that punchline. Ok, I know there have been times when I haven’t shown the same consideration, but look, we all have our moments and I’m sure you, during your working day, have often done something similar.
But now, here I am with just a few words written and an entire blog post still to produce and I feel that perhaps I should have played this out longer. There’s certainly a market, perhaps niche, perhaps somewhat disturbed, for football related punnery. Good ones mind you, not the kind that appear on the back pages which are, for the most part, the Zenith Data Systems Cup quarter-finalists (on a bye) of football puns.
Thinking about it, there should actually be a Nobel Prize for Puns. They’ve got one for all the important sciences like physics, chemistry and medicine, plus awards for literature, economic science and best supporting actor in a sitcom without a laugh track, so why not inventive wordplay? They’ll never be taken seriously until they sort out this outrageous oversight.
They could get that bloke from The Office to host it, enrapturing the audience with his laughter which isn’t at all very obviously fake and put on, and at the end the show could close with a overly-rehearsed musical number which would see a famous crooner sing, “I’ve grown accustomed to Gervais.”
No? Just me then. And probably the man from East Lower. Here’s a Twitter trick very few people know. Simply type in any kind of pun, no matter how small, and without 8 minutes he will have replied with another pun at which point you can pun off each other for hours at a time. I’m told he hasn’t slept since 2010.
Ultimately though, there’s little to tell you from a football point of view. Tonight the first games of the Interlull take place. Ireland are in Germany to get a Mannschafting from Ozil and co, while England, with Wilshere and Gibbs involved, play Montenegro. What? I got nothing. I’ve set the bar too high.
Laurent Koscielny is missing from the France team as he hasn’t been able to train due to a calf injury. Obviously they’re hoping to nurse him through to the game on Tuesday, but it’d be nice if they just let him come home instead. Finger crossed there’s no drama tonight.
Finally, thanks for all the entries into the Mesut Ozil print competition. The winner, as drawn by the Random Number Generator, is Anthony Fletcher. Well done, I’ll be in touch with you and we’ll get the print sent out to asap.
For now though, have yourselves a good Friday. More nonsense tomorrow. Probably. Like the conclusion to Prometheus, it’s the weak end.
I’ll stop now.
