Happy new *boilk* to you. A very quick preview of today’s game against Cardiff, mostly because I can’t feel the ends of my fingers because of rum (but this is the best rum ever).
The difficulty we have ahead of this particular game is that every single one of our players is injured. We’re without Ozil and Ramsey, and Gibbs and Giroud, not to mention long-termers like the Ox, Diaby and YipYip Snowcone, but the rest of them are all doubtful due to various malaises. It’s true, seriously:
Theo Walcott – Bloody flux
Wojciech Szczesny – Grocer’s itch
Bacary Sagna – Brucellosis
Per Mertesacker – Constable’s lethargy
Laurent Koscielny – Rising Of The Lights
Nacho Monreal – Gambas delight
Carl Jenkinson – Consumptive eclipse
Thomas Vermaelen – Milk leg
Mikel Arteta – Distemper
Mathieu Flamini – Existential melancholia
Tomas Rosicky – Ronson’s canker
Lukasz Fabianski – Yaya Lumbago
Serge Gnabry – Membranous Croup
Santi Cazorla – Miasma of the soul
Lukas Podolski – Hilarious quinsy
Nicklas Bendtner – St. Vitas Dance
Jack Wilshere – W0mb fever
Suffice to say they are all completely bollixed and this is going to be a tough game. We’re going to have to throw them out regardless of their illnesses and hope for the best. Pestilence is our key weapon today, and by Captain Haddock’s beard we’re going to have to use it.
Three points a must against a team owned by a man who wears his trousers just below his nipples. There can be no excuses for failure today. The idea of this man being happy, and rubbing his belt buckle off his engorged puffers is just too much to even think about right now.
So, the answer is: pig meat, coffee and toast and then attempt to find some kind of a stream for the game. If I can, there will be live blog in the usual place.
Hope you had a good one and that your 2014 brings you everything you desire. I’m hoping John Terry gets Milner’s Thrombosis.
Until later. Or tomorrow. Or whenever my head stops hurting like a bastard.
