I’d like to start by thanking all of the people who expressed concern over my mental health due to yesterday’s blog. It’s absolutely fine, I assure you.
I have not cracked. The lack of transfers has not driven me around the bend. Indeed, I heartily enjoy the correspondence which begins with ‘Worst blog ever!’ and then goes on to tell me how much of a twat I am. It’s fun, seriously. Serious fun. You know, a change is as good as a rest for me as much as anyone else. Apart from the people who deem it the ‘worst blog ever’, obviously.
To them change is weird and scary and possibly a bit arousing in a way they don’t want to be aroused. I get that. I’m beginning to think that Arsene Wenger is one of those people. Not that he emails me to express his displeasure at the free blog he gets every day for no cost whatsoever, but he doesn’t like change.
Perhaps he’s viewing this current Arsenal squad like a party after a nightclub. I’m sure many of you have been in the situation where you’re out with all your good old friends, having the fun and the laughs, and someone says Back to mine and that’s a great idea except nearly always there are one or two hangers-on who somehow get involved and come back and everybody’s really uncomfortable with them there.
So much so that you might all start yawning and going Oooh, it’s so late, better call it a night and you share the lift down with the stragglers and the light in the lift is so bright and holy shit my eyes and your eyes are massive and why does my face look so wurbly and then outside a taxi comes along and you say to the weird people you can have that first taxi we’ll get the next one and they do and they go and you go straight back upstairs and everyone’s relaxed and then someone puts on a tune.
A tune.
Arsene has been sharing the lift with Santos and Denilson, a Brazilian couple he got talking to, and because he was feeling so lovely he gave them the invite. Don Vito and Johan Djourou were ushered into a taxi as the boss scarpered back up the stairs to chill out and spark up a bifter. Although there’s still Chamakh and Bendtner and Park, they’re in a different room and everyone’s kinda forgotten about them and so the party is good now.
It’s just Arsene and his real friends. The ones he really wants to hang out with. Everyone’s comfortable together. Nobody’s gonna take out an acoustic guitar. The blinds are down so even when the sun comes up it’s gonna be nice and dark in the room. And the party can go on and on.
Why would you ruin the party by bringing new people to it? New people are difficult and strange and ultimately have to be chased off or tricked into a taxi. Everyone’s safe now, feeling groovy, nobody wants to be the one to break it up. Least of all Arsene because what if the new people he brings in are hated because they have stupid hair or they insist on talking when everyone wants to just listen to that one noise in the background on that song which once you hear you can’t not hear?
It is now August and nothing is happening. Nothing. The top story in the Arsenal section of the Mirror website today is about Quincy Owusu-Abeyie possibly going to Crystal Palace. Although I consider myself a man of words, I don’t think I have the vocabulary to express how little of a shit I give about Quincy Owusu-Abeyie. Which is no slight on the man himself. I remember he scored a good goal once some years ago, but that’s the top Arsenal story on the website of the UK’s biggest national tabloid that isn’t featuring pictures of John Terry on a special cover.
Quincy Owusu-Abeyie. Think about that for a moment. I’d say he was one of the guys who nobody wanted back at the party because he couldn’t take jokes about being a Los Angeles county medical examiner and would probably try to fight people who made that quip over and over again just to get a rise out of him.
Quincy Owusu-Abeyie.
Quin Owu-Abey. The name of a crap Jedi.
Qu Ow-Ab.
Q.
Personally, I think we’re now heading towards gatecrashing territory. The party is great, but it could be greater. Some cool cats could add something to the party. Someone who could come in, put a light-shade on their head and say look I’m a lamp. Podolski would be annoyed he never thought of that but that would simply make Podolski up his game. Competition for places, and all that. That’s what it takes to make a good party a great party, but we seem content with the shindig we have.
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Interestingly, ahead of the Emirates Cup, Arsene Wenger is doing a Google Hangout today. I suspect everything will be completely and utterly vetted, but perhaps we might get some hints as to whether or not Arsene is going to invite the guy who has all the new stuff on white label or if we’re just gonna use that mix-tape that everyone really likes but wouldn’t mind listening to something new. I think that’s a 2.30 today. It’ll be fun or a train wreck.
And finally, the winner of the VIP tickets for the Emirates Cup, answering correctly that Emmanuel Eboue was the guy tricked into a taxi a few years back, is Darren Pinnock. Well done to you, I’ll be in touch we’ll get everything sorted for you.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, somebody’s just put on a song I really hate. Time to change the record.
